Fragile

Couldn't sleep, wrote a short poem: 

I was describing this analogy to several people today, how I am beginning to feel like a broken vase that has been glued back together a few times. Then late tonight, I came across this: 

I have a feeling God was trying to tell me something...

"How Deep the Father's Love for Us"

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

“How deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure.”
I doubt that we as humans will ever understand just how much God actually loves us. It is so great, we are unlikely to ever truly grasp the entirety of it while we are still in our earthly bodies. This hymn has always been one of my favorites, for its attempts to demonstrate the depth of God’s love, but even eloquently put as it is, the words still fall short.

I remember a camping trip I attended with the St. John’s youth as a counselor a few years back – it was in Kernville, and I had taken a short hike to the top of a hill, waiting as the “mountain guru” for the kids to find me so I could bestow some sage advice to them.

I remember sitting there in the quiet, waiting for the kids to show up, and looking out across the vast valley below me, and the words of Ephesians 3:17-19 coming into my head: “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge”. Well there was all the proof I needed that I would never understand how much He loved me – it said right there, “the love that surpasses knowledge”. But I looked out on that canyon and thought about how large it was – how high the mountains reached, how deep the valley was, and how utterly small I was. I pictured God’s hands, in the shape of a great big bowl like that valley, holding me. For a fleeting moment, I saw and felt the vastness of His love. And that wasn’t even the Grand Canyon!

“That He should give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure.”
These words strike me because they indicate the enormity of the price God was willing to pay for us. He chose to sacrifice something priceless, in order to redeem something worthless – sinners like us.

"How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns His face away.”
Both Jesus and the Father were enduring pain during the crucifixion. The idea that God himself felt such pain that He couldn’t even bear to watch what they were doing to His beloved Child, grips my heart with guilt and sadness.

“It was my sin that held Him there.”
Lest I wonder why I should feel guilt, we are reminded in verse three that we are responsible for Jesus’s death on the cross. What a humbling thought – that it was our sin, and not the nails – that held Him there. Not even our sin – MY sin alone would have been enough. Even those we consider “good” had sin enough to keep Him nailed down.


“Why should I gain from his reward? I cannot give an answer.”
Sadly, these words are so true. I don’t even know why God would do something like this for me. The idea that I would receive anything from God but death is inconceivable.


“But this I know with all my heart, His wounds have paid my ransom.”
The suffering of Jesus paid a price. As a country still at war, we understand all too well the phrase “freedom is never free”. Nowhere is this more true than in what Christ did for us on the cross. He paid the price we should have, so that our freedom from sin would be eternal. How great to know that because of His deep love for us, we are free to walk with Him forever!  And I know, Lord. With all my heart.



My beloved Jesus, words cannot express my gratitude for the suffering You endured for me. Father God, never let me forget that You too, felt searing pain – so great that You were unable to watch Jesus suffer. I can never repay the debt I owe in return for You giving up Your only Son, but for some reason, You love me so much You have cancelled that debt through Jesus’s death. I cannot thank You enough. I only hope that the life I live now will reflect my love for You in return. And I do love You, so much, Lord. Amen. 

The Valentine Ninja

Love is in the air!

 

After a very long, tiring “romance drought” in my life, I officially started dating someone 2 weeks ago. Which means 2014 marks the first year I will actually have someone to celebrate Valentine’s Day with. Oh, happy day! Ironically, I’m heading out of town with my church today and won’t be around this evening, but I have a Valentine just the same…which is a nice change. I haven’t been this happy in a while. In fact, let’s just be honest here…I’m smitten, people. He’s a pretty amazing guy. 

 

However, as a female who just turned 30 and has been single for many years, you can probably imagine that Valentine’s Day hasn’t always been my favorite holiday. Sheldon understands…

 

No, I was not one of those bitter girls who would weep uncontrollably while hugging a bottle of wine every year to display my distaste for the rosy day, nor would I throw “I Hate Valentine’s Day” parties…but I’ll admit, facing this dreaded day becomes difficult once you are of a certain age, would really like to have a partner, and have to have the fact that you are single thrown in your face all day long.

 

However, one of the best Valentine’s Days I can remember was 3 years ago, so I thought I’d share the story as a reminder that this holiday is not just for sweethearts – but for ALL the special people in your life that you love and care about. Like friends. I was truly blessed in my late 20’s, to have formed a core group of really amazing female companions – the kind of friend you normally only find a few of in a lifetime. That particular year, I was feeling all sorts of warm fuzzies when I thought of my friends, and I wanted to do something special, to let them know how much I loved and appreciated them. Of course, I had procrastinated until the last minute…so there I was, the night before the big day, trying to figure out a way I could do something special to surprise them all. Then it hit me – I could hide valentines for them, in places they would find them the next morning. My first thought was on their doorstep, or on the windshield of their car. So with this weak plan forming in my mind, I got started writing cards.

 

After I had all 7 written out, I got on the computer to check out google maps and plan out my driving route. I was already having fun at this point, thinking about how sneaky I was going to be. I only wish my brain had caught up with the excitement and well intent in my heart, because there were really some things I should have thought out a little more thoroughly, before attempting this endeavor. Such as:

 

1. Make sure you actually know where your friends live.

As I was halfway to the first house on my route, I realized I didn’t actually know her address - only the general area and cross-street. I then had to figure out a way to non-chalantly and inconspicuously wake up my friend with a text and ask her for her address at close to midnight. That was interesting. Luckily she is a pretty trusting friend who doesn’t ask many questions. I was halfway to the second friend’s place when I realized I only knew the apartment complex in which she lived, no idea which number. Again, I was fortunate enough to know her car well and was able to find it amongst the hundreds in the complex parking lot. Note to self – identifying necessary key elements to your plan is an important part of the preparation.

 

2. Take into consideration who may live in a gated community.

Halfway through my route, I arrived at my destination, only to pull up to the housing community gates and realize I had no idea what her gate code to get in was. I idled for a while outside the gate, wondering what I was going to do, hoping someone might pull up behind me who I could follow in. However, it was a little after midnight at this point, and the likelihood of that happening was slim to none. So I parked the car and got out to look around and think. My friend’s house was just up the road from the gate, I could almost see it from where I was standing. Then I noticed how there was quite a large gap in between the bottom of the gate, and the road. Quite enough room, in fact, for a person to squeeze through…the cogs in my head were now spinning. Leaving my car on the side of the road, I checked to make sure no cars were coming, then got down on the ground and wiggled my way in. Easy peasy! In my head, I was cackling at my brilliance and feeling rather pleased with myself. From there, it was a simple task to walk to my friend’s house and drop off the card at her door.

As I walked back to my car however, I was suddenly hit with a horrifying thought – coming from this side, I would have absolutely no way of checking the road entering the gate to make sure there were no cars coming. At this hour, I didn’t think it would be a problem, but this is ME we are talking about. It would be just my luck to be halfway under the gate and all of a sudden have a car roll up and open it with me stuck there. I can only imagine trying to explain to a cop how and why I was pinned between an electric gate and the road by myself in the middle of the night. Somehow I don’t think my “single on Valentine’s Day” sob story would let me off the hook. My hands were sweating just thinking about it.

I figured my best hope was to get through the gate as quickly as possible, so as I got close, I picked up a little speed and then literally dove under the gate. This approach backfired. Not only did it leave road burn all down my hands and arms, but in my haste, my hoodie snagged on the gate and yanked me back. Now officially stuck, panic began to rise in my throat. I tried to tell myself to just calm down and slowly untangle my sweater from the gate. But just when I thought it could get no worse, I heard a sound that made my stomach drop to my toes – wheels turning in the gravel just up the road. I froze in place. I could see beams of light growing closer, and like a deer caught in the headlights, I was frozen in the approaching tractor beam. Then, like a miracle, the car zoomed past the gate, onwards toward some other destination, without so much as a brief glance my way. I was safe. My insides now trembling from the adrenaline rush and sudden relief, I caught a case of the giggles and laughed there on the ground for a minute or two, before calmly untangling myself and getting back safely to my car and driving away.

 

3. Sneaking around your friend’s garage at 1am may end with you getting arrested.

Don’t fret – this story doesn’t end with me being thrown into cuffs and a jail cell. But the possibility was definitely present. My final destination of the evening. I had made it past barking dogs, floodlights, and gate-diving. I was in the home stretch. As I pulled up at the last house, I realized this would be the most complicated case yet. This particular friend I knew never used her front door – her car was parked in the garage and it was from there she entered and left her house every day. So now I was faced with the dilemma of where to leave her card where she would actually find it. If I put it on her front door, she would not see it as she drove away.

To add another level of complexity, I did happen to own a garage door opener to her house, so I could potentially open the door and leave the card on her car. However, this ran the risk of having the sound wake her up and make her think someone was breaking in her house, giving her a heart attack. Since I was trying to do something nice for a friend, and not frighten her to death, I decided this option was out. So now what? The only option left that I could see was to slip the card under the garage door and hope she saw it on the ground before getting in her car in the morning.

So I got down on my hands and knees and pushed it hard through the small gap between the door and the ground. I clearly heard the card slide across the cement and come to a stop. I realized I might have pushed too hard, and was suddenly concerned the card may have ended up underneath her car and out of sight. There was really nothing I could do about it at this point, but I wanted to know if the card would be visible the next morning. My friend has small windows at the top of her garage door, so if I could just take a quick peek, I would know for sure. However, since I am vertically challenged, this presented a new problem. I also noticed the stucco walls of my friend’s house had a small ledge running all the way around the house, about 3 feet off the ground. If I could just stand there on my tippy-toes and lean over, I might be able to see through the windows. So I start looking for a good place to get a hand-hold, and with a jump, hauled myself up onto the small ledge.

This took several tries before I was successful – I eventually had to slip off my shoes to get a good grip with my toes. Now that I was up, I had to maneuver over to the windows so I could peer in. I began inching my way that direction, when I suddenly heard a car coming to a stop nearby, an engine turn off, and a car door slam. I froze there, clinging to the wall like Spiderman, too afraid to turn my head to check if anyone was approaching. My eyes were squinted tightly shut, as if my inability to see meant nobody could see me either. I thought surely this was it, I won’t get two free passes in one night – but as the seconds passed, I realized no one was walking up behind me, no one was pulling me down. I slowly turned my head and saw a car parked across the street, and a man walking up to the front door of the house there, where he knocked. The first thought that crossed my mind was “what on earth would somebody be doing coming over and knocking on someone’s door at 1 in the morning”, until I remembered that I was currently hanging on the wall of my friend’s house trying to peek into her garage windows at 1am, and I had absolutely no room to talk.

Having no way to tell if this person had spotted me, I decided not to stick around to find out…making sure his back was turned, I tried to jump down from the wall as stealthily as possible, but of course landed with all the grace of an elephant, thudding into the ground and jarring my knees, cursing under my breath. I grabbed my shoes and crawled to my car, at which point I realized I couldn’t get in without making any noise and attracting attention my way. So I hid by the front wheels, occasionally peeking out to check if this person was gone yet. Not at all suspicious-looking behavior. As soon as I heard a door finally open and this person went into the house, I leapt into my car and drove off as fast as I could, wondering how I had escaped so narrowly, twice in one night.

 

Of course, once I was home, and all reason for true worry had passed, I laughed maniacally at the craftiness of my covert operations. Clearly I was a ninja. A valentine ninja. And all joking aside, all of the trouble and injuries were well worth it the next morning, when I started receiving calls and texts of thanks from my dear friends who were touched that I had thought of them, and poured out love to me in return. Not to mention, it made for a great story later.

 

So don’t forget your loved ones today – whether it’s a sweetheart, a friend, a family member, or a pet! We all have someone in our lives who means something special to us, so make sure you let them know! :)

Dirty Thirty

In 2 hours, I'm turning 30. I'll admit it, I'm freaking out a little bit.

Lately it seems like it’s a fad to write articles about entering this decade of life. Maybe it’s just because it's happening to me soon, and so they’re actually catching my attention. Either way, they seem to be either trying to make a person feel good about this milestone by listing with over-the-top enthusiasm, all the reasons it’s way better than your 20’s…or, pointing out all of the really depressing things about no longer being in your 20’s. I have definitely been spotting the good and bad myself, and also some things that I’m still not sure how I feel about. They may not be the same for everyone, but they’re definitely true for me. So, while it might be the trendy thing to do right now, here is my list of pros/cons and other tidbits I’ve noticed about turning 30:

1.      Your Christmas wish lists look really different.

This year, mine consists of: a new vacuum and dishes. Woo-hoo, exciting! My “secret” wish list also has two items: no credit card debt, and a husband. Don’t you wish they were that easy to get? Like, you could go to Aisle 5 at the local hardware store and pick up a husband?

2.      There’s no way of escaping the word “thirty”.

I’ve started to realize, when people ask how old you are, even if you’re 29, you still get to start by saying “twenty” which makes you sound younger because no matter what number comes next at least you’re still in your twenties. Where as when the word “thirty” comes out of your mouth, it doesn’t matter whether the next number is a 1 or a 9…you’re still in your 30’s. This bums me out a little bit.

3.      Your social life is dwindling, even if you’re still single – because most of your friends are married and have families.

The few friends I have left who are not married have significant others not to mention busy lives, so I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to go out on a Friday night, and literally texted everyone in my contacts list to try and find a buddy to go out with, but still ended up sitting alone on my couch watching Disney movies all night instead.

4.      You have nice stuff now.

Chances are, you finally have enough dough to get a nicer place, whether it’s a better apartment or buying your first home. And you finally traded in that old, beat up, used POS for a REAL car. You even have art on your walls and matching furniture in your house instead of garage sale items or hand me downs. Hooray!

5.      People actually care what you think.

I have realized that with age and experience, my opinion has started to become more valuable. Recently I was asked to be on a special committee for my church. Because I still feel like I’m 16, my initial reaction was “why would they want me on this team? Why would they care what some kid thinks?” I had to remind myself that I was now an intelligent adult woman, whose thoughts positively contribute to my church community. It was an eye-opener.

6.      You are starting to sound more like your mother than yourself.

Which is probably why people will actually listen to you now. She was always right about everything and much wiser than you’d like to admit.

7.      Everyone looks younger.

I am still young enough that high school and college still don’t feel that long ago for me. I still feel like a teenager myself much of the time. So it boggles my mind when I actually get a good look at these kids – college students look young, high school kids look 12, and Jr. High kids are practically toddlers. Seriously. I had my first real boyfriend when I was 14, and I remember how mature I felt then. When I look at the 14 year olds I work with now in my church, I am horrified that I was even dating at that age. They really are children still.

8.      You are having more and more “freak out” moments where you feel old.

Like when they re-release Jurassic Park in theatres in 3-D and you realize you saw it in the theatre when it originally came out TWENTY YEARS AGO. Also, that kid you used to babysit when he was a newborn is graduating high school now. Yikes.

9.      You understand how your parents can be 60, but feel 30.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw a picture of my parents when they were 30. It was of a party they had thrown at the house – with people laughing, making faces, and the table littered with red party cups in the background. I realized though I would have been about 8 years old at that time, and only saw my parents as “old mom and dad” they were actually the age I am now – young and vibrant. It reminded me they were fun people too, who liked to have a good time, just like I do now. And as they got older, they didn’t feel any different, just like I am experiencing now. I definitely do not feel 30. I feel about 20, and mentally have to remind myself that was a decade ago. So it’s easy to see how that feeling will grow exponentially with age.

10.     You start to view older people as mentors, instead of rolling your eyes at things they say.

In my mid-20’s, I suddenly had quite a few older women in my life who acted as mother-figures, since my own mom passed away when I was 23. While I had matured quite a bit already, and had started to understand these older role models were usually right, I still didn’t agree with or like everything they had to say. Often times, I would have a hard time listening to them because I felt like the age gap was too large and I couldn’t relate to them. This has changed. A year ago I was at a Bible Study sitting at a table surrounded by these amazing women, and my perspective suddenly shifted. I realized what a wealth of wisdom was right there at my feet, to learn from. I no longer saw these women as “old” or “un-relatable”, but wise and experienced women with the heart of a 30 year old, just like me. And I found that I desperately wanted to learn from them.

11.     YOU are now a role model.

I work with the youth at my church quite a bit. In my early 20’s, it was things like chaperoning or volunteering, not necessarily running the show. The older I’ve become, the more I have been pushed into a leader/teacher role. As I approach 30, I feel a much heavier weight of responsibility. I understand there are many young people who are watching me and looking up to me, listening to what I say. I also represent my church by singing on the worship team every Sunday morning. People know who I am and trust me. This also means I need to be more responsible with my life. I have the ability to influence, lead, and teach. This can be very rewarding, but it’s also very scary and requires great care.

12.     You don’t have to be a student anymore…and if you are, at least it's for things you're actually passionate about.

I enjoyed college, but, I’m also pretty lazy. So I’ve constantly said for the past decade how happy I am to not be in school anymore. However, if I do ever decide to go back, it’s going to be for a very specific niche of my choice. No more Gen Ed classes, no more prerequisite courses. Just the meaty stuff. It’s amazing how much more enjoyable and easy the academic journey can be when it’s about something you actually like.

13.     You're pretty sure you know what you want to be when you grow up.

even if you’re light years from getting there, or currently working in a completely different career from your dream and have no idea how you’re going to transition, you probably at least know what it is you REALLY want to do. I learned too late as a senior in college that I should have majored in something else. 8 years later, I’m still working at a job that’s related to the major I DID graduate with, all the while knowing it’s probably not the right fit for me. When I tell people that, they always ask what else I would be doing, and for years, my answer would be that I have no clue. That’s changed. I still have a few different paths of opportunity I’d like to explore, but I’ve narrowed that list down and have finally figured out what I really love and what I’m really good at.

14.     You've finally figured out how to do your hair and makeup.

These high school girls who can do all sorts of crazy things with their hair baffle me. I could barely put mine in a ponytail at that age. And I’m horrified when I see pictures of myself with make up on at that age. What is up with all that eyeliner? Hadn’t I ever heard of a smudge brush? And honey, get an eyebrow waxing kit. I looked like Elvira and Brooke Shield’s love child. As I’ve matured, my beauty skills have vastly improved. I know how to properly contour and shade my eyeshadow. I’m still not great at the hair stuff, but Pinterest is starting to change that…

15.     Your wisdom finally outweighs the mistakes you make.

In my 20’s, I made a lot of mistakes and learned from them. However, I wouldn’t always apply what I learned. I now knew when something was not a good idea, but I would do it anyway. As I approach my 30’s, I’m glad to say I’ve gotten better at this. Not only do I have the self-discipline to say no when I should, I have the wisdom to entirely avoid situations I know are not good for me. I still make mistakes, but I’ve found that when I do, they are smaller, less often, and don’t have consequences as severe. What a relief.

16.     You can afford stuff.

Remember when you used to go to the store with your parents, or with college friends, and see things you want, and think “man I can’t wait for the day I will have my own money and I can buy myself things.” Well, that day is now. Granted, you probably can’t go buck wild…but you fancy eating out today? Go ahead. Harry Potter special edition box set released on Blu-Ray? Put that in my basket NOW. You can even go crazy and splurge once in a while on a new Coach purse, or new pair of Jimmy Choo’s.

17.     Even though you have a steady paycheck, credit cards are still dangerous.

You’re finally almost debt-free, and you’ve proven yourself responsible by making payments on time for the past few years. Guess what that means? More card offers, limit increases, and bucket loads of temptation. Don’t give in.

18.     You really start to not care what people think about you anymore.

Not everyone is going to like you. That’s ok. Haters gonna hate. I have learned that regardless of what I do or say, some people are going to think whatever they want about me, whether it’s right or wrong, and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ll find that won’t slow me down at all, not anymore. Just smile, brush that stuff off, and keep moving.

19.     My faith is my own.

In high school, many of us went to church because we grew up doing it or because our parents made us. In college, we had other priorities like joining acapella groups and tailgating at every home football game. Now, I go to church because I want to. Because it’s important to me. Because I LIKE it. Because I’ve taken responsibility for my own spiritual health. Because I’m done searching and have decided what I want to believe. Owning your faith is a very powerful and liberating thing.

20.     Health and vitamins are important.

Your body does NOT work the same way it used to ten years ago. Sorry, but it’s true. Accept it. It takes a LOT more effort and care to keep it functioning smoothly now. Go see your doctor and get regular check-ups. Do your homework and figure out what exams you should start getting annually, especially considering your family history. Take a daily vitamin. In fact, get some blood work done and figure out what vitamins you’re deficient in and need most. Eat a better diet. Get regular exercise. Go see a therapist. FLOSS. Be proactive! Your body and mind will love you for it.

21.     You have to be your own advocate sometimes.

You know yourself better than anyone else, and only you know when something isn’t right, whether it’s about your health, your personal life, or a social situation. Don’t let people tell you it’s ok or normal if you know it’s not. If you don’t feel good and doctors keep telling you you’re fine, keep getting a second opinion – or third or fourth – until you find one who will listen to you. If you are getting taken advantage of, working in a dead-end job with no end in sight, don’t let people tell you that’s part of corporate culture and it’s just how the world works – speak up and do something about it. Be prepared for certain times where no one else will have your back but YOU.

22.     You like sunscreen.

And moisturizer. And basically anything else that you neglected to use diligently the past decade and are now realizing the consequences of. Aka wrinkles.

23.     You are comfortable with your body.

In high school, one of my nicknames was “bubble-butt”. Seriously, it’s like its own shelf. It looks like Jennifer Lopez and Beyonce tried to squeeze into the same skirt back there. I used to HATE it, but the older I have become, the more I have learned to embrace it. College was the first time I was introduced to the concept that many men actually LIKE a meaty derriere. But it was still a difficult idea to grasp, and it hasn’t really been until my late 20’s that I’ve learned to work it. Ladies, and fellow badonkadonks of the world, WERK it. There are plenty of men who like all different body types, including one that is voluptuous.

24.     You love sleep.

I would give anything to go back to kindergarten where naps were an expected and required part of your school/work day. Naps are magical and amazing.

25.     The dreaded 2-day hangover.

It is real. The first day will be entirely spent in a pain-induced haze in bed or on the couch, trying to stay alive. The second day you will finally be able to get up and move around, possibly eat. After experiencing this phenomenon, you will think twice before over-indulging in the dizzy potions at your friend’s BBQ.

26.     You've lost most of the girl drama and you know who your real friends are.

There’s a famous saying that for women, you are gathering friends in your 20’s, weeding them out in your 30’s, and need them the most in your 40’s. I would say there’s some truth to this. In the last decade, I’ve gone through quite a few friends, and my social clique has changed drastically many times. A lot of times, this is because people’s lives are just changing naturally – they move away for their job, or they start a family. Other times it’s because we realized we were different people and needed to part ways. As I enter my 30’s, I am happy to say I can confidently count at least 5 girlfriends that I know will always be there for me, and that I will remain friends with for life.

27.     Dating is no longer just for fun.

In my early 20’s, my approach to dating had much less of a long-term vision. Sometimes you still dated people you knew probably didn’t have marriage potential, just because they were really fun or attractive. As I’ve approached 30, this has changed. Part of it is logistical – being a female, I feel like I have less time to waste as my window to have children narrows. But the other part of it is just learning how to guard your heart, and not want to waste your time or anyone else’s. Just because you meet someone of the opposite sex and you really like them, doesn’t mean you should date them. Sometimes those people are great just as friends. There’s really no point in dating someone you don’t think you would marry. This narrows the playing field A LOT, which can be a good and bad thing. I’ve had plenty of people tell me I’m too picky, but I don’t see it that way – I see it as having standards. Knowing what I want and what I deserve and not settling for anything less. And I think that’s healthy. I’d rather be alone than with someone I settled for.

28.     Wine.

It’s everywhere. The phrase “let’s go wine-tasting this weekend” will become a staple in your social conversations. You will learn things about wine you thought you’d never know. You will start collecting wine accessories. Gone are the hard liquor days, and now you like to CLASS IT UP with wine. Lots and lots of wine. Wine!

29.     Yoga Pants.

They’re wonderful. If I could wear them every day for the rest of my life, no matter where I was going, I would. This guy gets it.

30.     You love yourself more.

Without sounding completely narcissistic, I AM AWESOME. I love me. I’m not always funny, but I laugh at funny things, I am a loyal friend, I kill it in karaoke, I do 5Ks even though I suck at long distance running, and I can name every Harry Potter spell spoken in the books. I love the woman I’ve grown into, who still knows how to act like a kid. I am more confident about myself now than I’ve ever been, and I’ve learned it’s ok to geek out over things I’m passionate about.

Well, there you have it – my list about turning 30. And would you look at that – there happen to be 30 items. You would think I planned it that way… ;-)

Closet Compost

Kids have terrible logic. Seriously, sometimes they will come up with the most absurd ideas that no normal adult would ever think of, and their brains will tell them “yeah, do that…that’s a great idea.” It’s really unfortunate. 

When I was a kid, my mother used to hammer this idea in my head of not wasting food. She always used to pack our school lunches for us - brown paper bag with a healthy sandwich option, yogurt, piece of fruit. Never anything good like chips or Dunkaroos (for those of you not lucky enough to attend junior high in the 90’s and have the pleasure of experiencing Dunkaroos, this is what I’m talking about). 

On a side note, sometimes that sandwich option would be of a foreign variety, like Leiberwurst. On those days I would dread pulling my sandwich out. I would try to eat it quickly before anyone could spot the pale pasty colored mush in between the slices of bread I was holding. Never worked of course, some kid would always spot it and loudly ask “ewww, what is that?” (what IS it with kids and their sensitivity to food?!). Once I had informed everyone it was Leiberwurst, their eyes would pop out of their head as they processed the concept that I was willingly digesting mashed liver for lunch. I know exactly how Tulla from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” felt when she brought leftover Moussaka to school. 

Anyway, we’re getting away from my original story here - kid logic. So obviously, my lunches were leaving something to be desired, and usually it was the fruit that I chose to forego the most often. However, since it was so well instilled in me to not waste food, I would always save it and put the fruit, still wrapped in the brown lunch bag, back into my backpack. The thing is, my mom would get upset if she knew we hadn’t eaten our entire lunch. So as I rode the bus home, I would constantly be faced with the sudden panic of what to do with my leftover fruit. My mom had a habit of checking our backpacks occasionally, so I couldn’t leave it in there. My solution? I would walk in the door, rush to my room, pull the brown bag from my backpack, and quickly shove it in the back of my closet – right on the middle shelf where my tshirts hung and created a nice dark corner perfect for hiding items from plain view – before throwing my backpack down in its usual spot next to my desk.  Something told me this was a good idea. 

Now here’s where the problem really starts. This would happen several days in a row, and sometimes, I’m ashamed to say, a couple weeks in a row, and suddenly I would have a growing stash of brown lunch bags containing rotting fruit piling in the corner of my closet. Ah yes, the plot thickens. Someone might ask, “why wouldn’t you just tell your mom to stop packing fruit in your lunch? Or throw it in the trash right away? Or throw it away before getting on the school bus?" Those, of course, are all reasonable responses. Apparently I was unable to come up with any such plan. No, my kid brain telling me to create my own personal closet compost system sounded much better (on another related note – this is not my only experience with hoarding produce – check out my Pumpkin story here). 

My panic at the possibility of someone finding my food stash would keep me at edge at all times. I would look for moments to clean out my hoard, ideally when my mom was out of the house and it was the morning of trash pick-up day. Or worse, sometimes I would forget all about my stash, and discover it in the most unfortunate way – by digging for a long lost article of clothing and plunging my hand instead into a soggy lunch bag with mushy fruit. Sadly, more often than not my worst fears were realized. Inevitably, my mother (who I’m sure you’re now starting to realize REALLY liked to stay in my business) would be rooting around in my closet and uncover my little secret. 

One particularly awful time, I was in another room of the house when I heard the bellowing from the depths of my closet and immediately realized what had happened. You’d think after being caught a few times that I would have found another method of disposal for my fruit waste, but no. In that instance, there were a few weeks worth of bags on the shelf, and the rotting fruit had soaked through the bags and left a beautiful apricot-colored stain on the shelf for all posterity. After having a painful, tearful conversation/argument with my mother about my fruit storing habits, we both retreated to our bedrooms to process the emotional exhaustion we were both feeling – my mother mostly frustration, and me humiliation. 

That evening I happened to be reading another 90’s kid staple - Chicken Soup for the Soul, the Kid’s Version – and I came across a most relateable story – “Green Salami”. I searched the internet to find an online version of this story, and was met with success – you can read that story here. As for how it related to me, well, if you read it, it will be obvious. I was comforted to know that I was not the only child weird enough to hide food in their bedroom, and I felt the need to clear my name with my mother by presenting her with the story. I entered her room and announced I needed to read her something, and proceeded to narrate the story from the book. 

About halfway through, I noticed my mother biting her lip, and trying not to laugh. Maybe it was the roller-coaster of emotion we had both just experienced, but I found the sight gave me the giggles as well. By the end of the story, we were both laughing so hard I could barely breathe and had to keep pausing from the story in order to continue reading, and my mother had tears streaming down her face. Please don’t ask me how a story about hairy sausage brought a bit of healing to our uncomfortable encounter that afternoon, but that’s exactly what it did. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that we were not the other mother-daughter relationship to have this experience. It certainly provided a fun memory that I still remember to this day.

Geocaching, Sombreros, and Trundling, Part III

Miss Part I? Read it here

Miss Part II? Read it here

Full of Mexican food and high on life (or on sugar from the flan), we left the restaurant in good spirits and in the mood for adventure (aka trouble). I don’t remember how or why we ended up where we did, but I remember driving along a dirt path and seeing a bunch of discarded tires laying on the side of the road. The boys had a hankering to haul some of them up the nearby hill, and roll them down the side. So, we started gathering tires. 

Being as they were pretty heavy, we finally got the brilliant idea of roping them to the back of our vehicle and driving them most of the way up. Which is how we ended up driving the van up the side of the mountain, with 3 boys hanging off the back of the car, “riding” the tires on the way up. 

Once we were at the top of our destination, we occupied ourselves for a short while, flinging the tires off the side of the mountain and watching them roll all the way down. This easily segued into rock trundling, which is another favorite pastime of geologists, and is just a fancy way of saying “throwing small rocks and boulders down the side of a mountain”. We started small, finding individual rocks to throw, as heavy as we could lift. Then we started working together to dig out larger boulders and push them down the side of the hill. 

Don’t ask me why this activity is so entertaining. There is just something about watching the rocks gather speed and momentum and barrel their way down the side of a mountain, obliterating anything and everything in its path along the way. And the larger the rock, and the more effort it took us to get it moving, the more exciting it was when it flew down the hill. We would yell and cheer as they tumbled their way down to the bottom. 

Then, we discovered it – the mother lode of all trundling rocks. A perfect sandstone sphere, it sat there glowing in the rays of the setting sun, beckoning us. It must have been about 6 feet high and wide, and perched perfectly in a starting position at the edge of the cliff – all we had to do was loosen some of the rocks around the base. You could sense our excitement in the air. 

We got to work and suddenly realized this was going to be a much more arduous task than we first imagined. This rock wouldn’t BUDGE. Too much of the base was buried in the dirt, and no matter how many rocks we loosened, it seemed like it wasn’t helping. Too eager to give up right away, we kept at it. 

30 minutes later, we were still working on this stupid boulder, and had officially passed the point of giving up and were now hell-bent on digging this thing out. It was one of those situations where you had already invested too much time and effort to give up, and there was no going back. With the sun down and us quickly losing our light, we worked at a feverish pace, all five of us digging away. 

Occasionally we would stop digging and all push together, to see if we could get the rock to move. Every time, we would count to three, hold our breath, and push, anticipating the feel of the rock shifting under our hands. But, nothing. 

We worked until the last bit of sunlight was gone, and on a moonless night in the desert, it was pitch black out there. At some point somebody brought up the elephant in the room, which was even if we somehow finally got this rock to move, it was now too dark to even watch it roll down the hill. We didn’t even care. We were not leaving this mountain side until this thing moved. 

My arms aching, I took a break to hold the flashlight, while the boys hacked away at the bottom of the rock, the metal from their rock hammers flashing in the light as they raised their arms, sweat flying, and a crazed look in their eyes.  

Finally, it came time to test the rock again. This time, I inched my way up a neighboring rock, with my back flat up against it, and my feet on the boulder so I could push with all of my leg strength. We counted – 1, 2, 3…and pushed. This time I felt the rock give underneath my feet. There was a communal gasp from everyone as we felt the rock lift, then settle back into place. We were close! You could feel all of us now quivering with excitement and anticipation. I even recall hearing someone say the phrase “this is like foreplay!” We tore at the rock with renewed fervor, knowing the time was near. 

Finally, one last push. We knew this one was going to be it. In a moment of hushed silence, we pushed together, and felt the rock move forward and tip over. Then we saw one of the coolest things I can remember – the boulder striking other rocks as it charged its way down the mountainside was causing it to spark and was sending streaks of flying yellow sparks into the air the entire way down the mountainside. It was a magnificent sight we would have never been able to see unless it was pitch black outside. 

The darkness also intensified all of our other senses, and we could feel the vibrations under our feet and hear the boulder crashing into everything else, until we heard the final loud BOOM of it hitting the bottom, echoing through the desert canyon like a gavel. It was glorious. 

I have so many memories of geology trips, with plenty of others containing much more exciting circumstances than these. But they are still hard to compare with this first trip. The five of us had bonded over geocaches, sombreros, and trundling. We shared new discoveries and experiences together. It taught me that you don’t have to be in an exciting place to have fun – you can be in the middle of a dry desert, with shady restaurants and tire-littered dirt roads – but as long as you are with good friends, you can have a blast. 

Geocaching, Sombreros, and Trundling, Part II

Miss Part I? Read it here

After 2 days and 3 nights of camping and hiking in the desert, we were hot, sweaty, dirty, and tired. When we were finished packing up camp, our professor announced that him and the TA’s were taking one of the vans and that we were allowed to take the other on our own, in case we wanted to stay in town for dinner. This was probably an unwise decision on his part, if he had known us a little better – an invitation for us to get into more shenanigans. 

However, we set off, excited about the prospect of being on our own without supervision (hey, we WERE only college juniors, can you blame us?). Since I had spent a short time living in Barstow when I was young, I told the boys I had memories of a Mexican restaurant from my childhood, one with food so glorious it made you want to weep. Meals that tasted like there were beautiful Spanish women in colorful flowing skirts dancing on your tastebuds. I raved so much about this place, I talked the boys into going there for dinner. 

Since I couldn’t remember the exact location of the restaurant, we had to drive up and down the main strip of the city a few times before finding it. Luckily, it’s a small town. I swore that we would know it as soon as we saw it, because the restaurant from my memories was a magnificent pueblo-style building with bushes of gorgeous flowers bursting through every window, and hand-painted murals of Spanish art on the walls. So, when we finally pulled up at the small, run-down, faded building with the word “Rosita’s” feebly painted on the side, peeling off in places, that should have been my first hint that my 6 year old imagination might have exaggerated slightly. 

We were too hungry to complain, so we went in, sat, and ordered. That was when I recalled a vague memory of celebrating someone’s birthday in this same restaurant when I was a kid. I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to potentially prank or embarrass one of my fellow classmates, so I told the table I had to use the restroom, and set off for the kitchen to speak with our waiter. 

After informing him one of the gentlemen at my table was celebrating his birthday and would like to be surprised later, I was halfway back to the table when I bumped into my friend Rob, who had a mischevious look on his face. Knowing Rob as the trickster of the group, I figured he was up to the same thing I was, so I let him in on my little secret. We agreed who the victim at the table would be. 

After our meals were settling in our stomachs, and everyone at the table was peacefully reclining in their chairs, I was all aquiver with anticipation for our “dessert”. When our waiter finally approached us and asked who the “birthday muchacho” was, Rob quickly pointed at our friend Jim. Jim, thinking this was entirely Rob’s fault, pointed the finger right back in Rob’s face. Luckily I was there to back Rob up, and there was a moment of blind panic on Jim’s face, as he realized he had been duped. 

Suddenly, a trio of costumed waiters appeared. One slapped a giant sombrero on Jim’s head, one was sporting a tiny guitar, and one a set of maracas. They proceeded to dance and sing the Mexican Hat Dance around our table, while Jim sat there looking ridiculous, the tiny pom-pom balls swinging off the edge of the hat and into his face. It came so far out of left field, that I thought I was going to pee my pants laughing. 

As their song came to a close, the mariachi wannabes told everyone at the table to lean in for a picture, and they snapped a Polaroid. I don’t know who has it now, but I still wish to this day I had a copy of that photo. Lesson learned: it seems like the more remote/random a restaurant, the more likely they are to have some silly tradition for celebrating a birthday. And the more friends you are with, the higher the chance someone is bound to rope you into dealing with it. Always carry your own camera. 

Stay tuned for Part III...