Am I Dreaming?!?

I've had to ask myself this question several times over the past few days. In the biggest whirlwind of a weekend that has turned out to be the best weekend of my life, I now have the delight of having the best fiance in the whole world. :-)

Yep, I got engaged. Brad Leach asked and I said, "Yes!"

Since Brad is doing extensive feature articles on the actual details and process of the engagement, I thought I'd take a few posts and rewind and recap some of the story of how we got here. It's a good story written by a Good Author. Jane Austen's got nothing on Him. :-)

Almost a year ago I went to a Saturday Night Service at Allison Park Church (the wonderful church where I grew up) and I had the opportunity to talk to Pastor Jeff Leake and Melodie afterwards. Pastor Jeff was telling me about his latest trip to Michigan where he met with a pastor friend of his, a guy who had planted a church 5 years ago, planted another in the meantime and . . . was 27 years old. Jeff called him his hero. :-) I was perplexed at what kind of person this could be and as I was pondering this further, I could see the wheels in Jeff's head turning too. He looked at his wife, Melodie and asked, "Hey?!? Don't you think it would be great for Leah and Brad Leach to meet? They'd be great together . . ."

Before he could extrapolate much further, I had to interrupt him. I didn't even have a chance to tell him I'm not interested in set-ups because I couldn't get past the even bigger "red flag" that was already present.

"Do you REALLY want me to meet someone and risk becoming Leah Leach?!?" I asked incredulously. Clearly this is NOT something that God would ordain.

I was just curious enough to check out his blog that night, however, doing so with at least 10 different reasons why this guy HAS to be a weirdo. My first concern was quickly quieted when I saw his picture . . . he certainly didn't look like a weirdo. In fact, I had to admit that he was pretty cute . . . ok, really cute. And when I actually visited the blog and saw that he was funny and profound and liked football (including pictures of the Steelers at the Super Bowl!). . . well, my interest was piqued.

So this post doesn't last obnoxiously long . . . I'll continue the epic tale tomorrow. :-)

Christmas Eve

Tonight is the night growing up that was second in excitement to me only to Christmas Eve, the night before the first day of school. Of course, I could never officially admit that to anyone else, but I LOVED the excitement of new books, new teachers, yep, even new homework. I'm such a nerd.

Although it's not quite as exciting when I'm having to buy all of my books and when I journey to school via the world wide web, maybe I'll still try and get my old kicks one last time by picking out a fun new outfit for tomorrow and buying a new lunchbox and Trapper Keeper. I loved those Trapper Keepers.

Deep Thoughts . . . Again

Ok, over these past few days I've been pondering some "deep" thoughts once again, thoughts that are best processed on the blogosphere.

I confess that I have been known to watch the Weather Channel from time to time. Strange, perhaps, but during hurricane season even the largest skeptic has to agree that it can be kind of entertaining. My question is, when these psychotic weather reporters are doing a live report in the 130 mile/hr. winds and sideways rain, why do they insist upon wearing a hood? Do they really think that is helping them stay dry? Why don't we just report the weather like a real man in a hurricane, sans hooded raincoat.

Why do we call it a "pair of pants?" There is only one of them and yet it is always used as a plural word and we insist on using the word "pair" with it. We do the same thing with glasses. Why? I suppose you could bring up the point that there are two pant legs involved, but we don't call it a pair of shirt because they have two sleeves. Weird, huh?

Jack Handy's got nuthin' on me.

Sesame Redemption

One of the first posts of my blogging career was written right around Thanksgiving 2006. I was suffering the effects of "post-Thanksgiving withdrawal" and lamenting the sadness that comes with the end of a really great thing, one that I first remember experiencing when I went to see Sesame Street Live as a little girl. If you missed it the first time around and care to see it now, you can catch up here.

On this, the day of Mr. Snuffalupagus's birthday :-), I thought it would be a great time to share how God has continued his lessons to me, showing how He can redeem our hurts and renew our dreams truly far beyond anything we could ask or imagine.

A little over six months ago, I had the opportunity to meet Brad Leach. He was coming in to Pittsburgh for some meetings and asked if I'd like to grab some coffee. That simple night started a beautiful conversation that continued throughout the next week on the phone, e-mail, and IM until we had the chance to see each other once again the following Friday afternoon in Cleveland (it was half-way in between Detroit and Pittsburgh).

I'm pretty sure that my work and school efficiency that week was not at it's highest peak. And by that I mean that I really wasn't thinking about too much else other than when I got to talk to Brad again. :-) The more I got to know this man, the more I found myself wanting to get to know him more. He was funny and goofy, yet also profound and deep. He dreamed HUGE dreams for His Father and was crazy enough to chase after them (how many people do you know that plant a church 3 months after they graduate college?). More than anything, the thing that struck me from the moment that I met him was the way that he talked about Jesus like He was his Best Friend. It was so refreshing and genuine, and it made me want to know Jesus more.

And just when I thought that this guy couldn't get any better, it was only a few days after that first trip to Cleveland that Brad asked if I would like to meet him there again the next Friday. This time, however, he wanted to know if I would join him to see Sesame Street Live. I giggled, smiled, and felt all melty. :-) I was so touched and delighted and impressed with his creativity and effort to truly get to know me. The night was such a special treat and joy beyond what I could have imagined.

Ironically enough, as we were getting ready to leave, we saw a mom and her young son leaving the show, the boy crying inconsolably and his mom trying to figure out what was the matter with him. I found myself wanting to run after him, telling him that everything was going to be okay and that Jesus could redeem his sadness better than anyone ever could. It was a moment for me to pause and remember, to thank God for His goodness and faithfulness, and to then turn and thank the man who had just subjugated himself to a politically correct Cookie Monster for the last 2 hours just to bless me in such a special way.

Six months later, my gratitude to both of them has only grown. Thank you, Brad, for the miles driven, the minutes talked, the coffees, breakfasts, and dinners bought, and most of all for drawing me closer to Jesus. And thank you, Father, for your never ending faithfulness and goodness, far more than I could ever deserve or imagine.

Congrats, Edna!

So I read this most fascinating article on CNN yesterday about Edna Parker, the new world's oldest person. Edna was born in 1893. Yep. That's no typo. She's 114 years old.

I started thinking about all that Edna has experienced in her life and was overwhelmed trying to grasp it all. When she was born, airplanes were not invented. The telephone was a new-fangled gadget and the country was recovering from the not-that-distant Civil War.

If there ever was a century to be alive, certainly this past one has been filled with arguably the most revolutionary changes to culture and society. Could Edna have ever dreamed of cell phones, nevertheless the Internet when she ventured into her happy marriage in 1911? It made me think about what would be a part of our world 114 years from now if Jesus doesn't come back first. I couldn't even begin to fathom. Any thoughts?

Want to know the even crazier part of the story? The new oldest person in the world is apparently friends with the tallest woman in the world. Don't they make a fun couple of friends?

Rear View Vision

"Objects in mirror are closer than they appear."

I remember asking my mom, "What does that mean?" when I was riding in the car with her when I was younger. She tried to explain to me that the car manufacturers were trying to warn the drivers that while the mirrors were there to help them see behind, the reflection was distorted providing not an entirely truthful picture of what was actually there.

Over these past few weeks, I've been giving a lot of thought on looking back in my life. I've been reading through the book of Isaiah and came across the well-known and well-loved verse, "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past" (Is. 43:18). I find it to be so interesting because at other points in the Bible (several times in Deuteronomy, for example), God instructs His people to look back and remember what He's done and where they've come. Why the conflicting instructions?

As I've prayed about it more, I realized a specific distinction between "remembering" and "dwelling on the past." Too often when I look back on my life I find that I'll either spend time reminiscing about the past or struggling with regret. It's great to think back on fond memories, but when I start to dwell on them with "rose-colored glasses," remembering the "good old days" without any of their troubles, I find myself wanting to go back to what I think was an easier time. Or, I'll think back on poor decisions or sinful shortcomings and they seem so big and condemning. Like those rear view mirrors, my rear view vision is often distorted making the past perfect and my mistakes mammoth. When I live in a state of reminiscing or regretting, I'm stuck, paralyzed by feelings of inadequacy and a lack of desire to even try and do better in the future.

I think that's what God's talking about when He says, "Forget about it!" He goes on to say, "I'm doing a new thing!" something that will be even better than the best days of the past. The only reason we should ever look back is simply to remember, to reflect on His goodness and faithfulness and the grace that has brought us this far. Remember what He's done, thank Him for it, and use the memory to encourage further steps into the unknown new thing that He's doing next.

Extremely Wise

I've been reading through the books of the Bible that Solomon wrote over these past few weeks (Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon) and at the risk of sounding incredibly sacrilegious, I have to say that they're not my favorite books of the Bible. Granted this man is supposed to be the wisest man that ever lived, but to me, Proverbs seems incredibly random or incredibly obvious.

"A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret" (Prov. 11:13).

Really, Solomon?!? So you're saying that a gossip is going to tell other people my secrets?!? What do you think a liar is going to do with it?!? :-)

I really have been trying to press past my initial feelings, however, and ask God to enlighten my heart and mind to learn from the wisdom that I believe is there. Recently, the Holy Spirit really challenged me with a particular verse in Ecclesiastes. It's found in the 7th chapter, verse 18.

"It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. The man who fears God will avoid all extremes."

Earlier this week, I posted some feelings about how I was trying to figure out "normal life" after crazy-busy seasons. I realize that it's a lot easier for me to live in one extreme or the other. When you're working 16 hour days for weeks at a time, it quits becoming difficult. And you think you don't really need sleep or days off like you once thought.

On the other hand, when you visit life in the other extreme, it kind of makes you never want to work again in your life. Sleep, recreation, more sleep, exercising, and then you get to sleep again. Kind of makes that sluggard look good no matter what Solomon has to say about it.

Learning to live in the way that God intended, between the tension of work and Sabbath, productivity and rest . . . that's what really takes some work. Grabbing on to the one without letting go of the other truly takes a fear of God to learn how to do it in the beautiful way He created it to work.

Maybe there is something more to these words of Solomon. If this keeps up, maybe I'll start to understand why I should be flattered if some guy told me told me that my hair was like a flock of goats. :-)

They're Baaaaaaaack!

It's that time of year again . . . St. Vincent's College is filled with our favorite black and gold team. It's a good thing, too, because our local news coverage was running out of Steeler stories to talk about in the off-season. I just love football. I'm so happy it's here again. :-)

Oh My-pod!

As I was driving in the car the other day, listening to my iPod, I was reflecting on how much I love my little Nano. I got him for my birthday last year, signed up for iTunes, and named my little blue friend, Svenn. While I love the shuffle feature and the surprise of music each time a new song comes on, I have to say that my most favorite part of my iPod are podcasts. The most ironic part of my iPod is that I call it, "the gift I never knew I wanted." While I enjoy music, I can't say that I'm a passionate music fanatic, so when I was thinking of birthday gifts last year, I was thinking more clothes than iPods. My mom knew me better, though, and introduced Svenn into my life and I'm not sure how I could get along w/out him now.

I can think of several other things in my life that would go in that same iPod category, things way more significant than actual material gifts. My job and some great friendships are just some of the surprises that God's brought along my way, things that I never knew I wanted and yet are far greater than I could have ever asked. Thank God for all the "iPods" in my life and that He knows me far better than I know myself.

Return to Normal

So did you ever have one of those seasons of incredible intensity where you lose all sense of balance and "normalcy" in an effort to just survive? In the weeks before Kidz GiG, I found myself not taking days off and working 12-16 hour days more often than not. I got used to 2-6 hours of sleep a night and somehow found myself arriving at work by 5:30-6:30 AM on more than one occasion. Clearly, this is not a healthy lifestyle to pursue on so many levels and an argument could certainly be made that I shouldn't even embrace it for a season.

Getting back into a more healthy and Sabbath honoring lifestyle has certainly been an adjustment. I'm finding myself sleeping ridiculously long amounts of time (10+ hours), and once again having significant amounts of time to think, write, and pray. It's got me realizing again that learning to live in a God-honoring way in the midst of all these seasons is certainly a desire of mine. Any suggestions on some of the things that you've learned in the midst of similar types of seasons?

Loch Ness Memories

I had the delightful opportunity to spend a day off at Cedar Point on Friday. For a roller coaster enthusiast like myself, I have to say that I got quite a thrill from some of its impossibly designed coasters that I'm sure would make even Mr. Newton scratch his head on how they could work alongside his laws of physics.

After a day at "the Roller Coast," I can't help but remember how I was first initiated into the world of these thrill rides. I was about seven years old when my family was vacationing at Busch Gardens Virginia. While I had experienced a few rides on a "baby coaster" at a local amusement park, I was now just tall enough to ride the "big kid" rides and from the moment we walked into the park, it was impossible to ignore the bright yellow, steel frame towering over the rest of the Olde World . . . the Loch Ness Monster.

I could see the glimmer in my dad's eye, itching to tame the beast, and I could feel the knot in my stomach as I felt the tension between pure fear along with a compelling urge to conquer it. I knew if the day went on, the lines would get longer and my courage would get smaller, so I made the bold declaration. "Let's go, Dad."

We practically walked on to the ride, being one of the first people in the park, and I didn't talk much during the short wait to get in the car, as I was focused on trying not to overtly display my terror. When the large, black harness came down over my 48-in. body, I began to have second thoughts, however. What was I thinking?!? The only thing that brought me out of my tailspin panic was feeling my dad's reassuring hand on my knee, and hearing him say, "You're gonna be fine. I think you're really going to like this."

The next 2 minutes were an upside down, loop-the-loop, death-defying drop delight. I came out of the line a victorious warrior and couldn't quit talking about it to my dad. I was relating every turn, every hill, and every loop that took me to a new level of roller coaster fanaticism. He excitedly joined in where he could, which wasn't too often since he didn't actually "see" much when his glasses fell into the lake on the second loop (he forgot to take them off in his concern to make sure I was okay).

I remember the feeling I felt when he told me that when we went through the dark tunnel we were actually turning over in corkscrews. I knew that if I had known that ahead of time, I would have never gone through with the ride. That knowledge would have thrown me over the edge on the fear factor. Knowing that my dad was with me, and that he said I'd like the ride, however, made my ignorance bliss, and afforded me the opportunity to enjoy an adventure that I would have sadly missed out on otherwise.

In the years since, my Loch Ness lesson has come back to me, serving as a very tangible picture of the thrilling ride on which my Heavenly Father has taken me. I confess again, that had He told me all the twists and turns that the ride was going to take, I probably would have bailed out a long time ago. In the midst of those disorienting, dark tunnels, however, my fear of the unknown is replaced with exhilarating anticipation when I choose to ignore the track ahead and instead listen to the reassuring voice of my Father. It's been a wild ride, but one that I wouldn't trade for anything. Almost makes me want to be a line-jumper to get in the front for more rides to come.

Buckets 'o Fun

So I went to the bank yesterday with 6 buckets of coins and a wad of dollars collected from Kidz GiG last week. I wish I could explain to you the looks you get when you walk into the bank and ask for a cart to help carry in your money. I was so proud of the kids, however, when we came up with the grand total . . . $2,076.69! All that money will go to provide scholarships for children to attend the Christian Paisanart School in Thailand. I can't wait to see the look on the faces of some of our GiG kids someday when they get to Heaven and get to see what their little pennies and dimes did for kids they would probably never know or see. Amazing how this whole Family of God works!

Water Bottle Ethics

I read this really interesting article the other day from an online magazine called Fastcompany.com. It's called "Message in a Bottle," and it brought up some incredibly thought-provoking ideas on a topic I had previously given very little thought about . . . bottled water.

I, like probably many others of you, have enjoyed the convenience and accessibility of bottled water over the past few years. Its presence has subversively crept into our culture, moving from an elite drink of the Parisian aristocrats, to the preferred beverage at soccer games and shopping malls. I don't really think much about spending $1.35 for my bottle of Dasani or buying a case of water for my office. What was shocking to me, however, was what kind of market the bottled water industry commands.

This article reveals that the leaders of the bottled water industry last year made $15 billion, more than Americans spent on iPods and going out to the movies combined. What's more, if I filled that $1.35 bottle with tap water (some of which, like San Francisco, is so pure it doesn't even have to be filtered) once a day for the next 10 years, 5 months, and 21 days, I would finally spend $1.35 for that water. If we paid for tap water like we do for bottled water, we'd spend roughly $9.000 a month. Wow!

The real interesting point of the article came in when they raised some ethical questions about the bottled water industry and our consumption of the beverage. The article argues that bottled water is a luxury item, one that we enjoy thoughtlessly, while 1 out of 6 people in the world don't enjoy any kind of safe drinking water. Ironically enough, it's easier for an American to pay to drink a bottle of Figi water than it is for the majority of the people of Figi to drink any kind of safe drinking water. San Francisco has actually banned city departments from buying bottled water trying to set an example in being environmentally responsible, as more than a billion bottles end up in state landfills each year.

I'm not quite sure what to do with this information, whether or not it will significantly alter my bottled water drinking habits. What do you think of some of the ideas? As Christians, what kind of responsibility do we have to take care of the environment and others around the world and should this affect our usage of "luxuries" like bottled water?

KiDZ GiG Stories!

I thought it would be cool to invite some of the KiDZ GiG leaders to share some of their best stories from their week at KiDZ GiG so that we all could celebrate all the amazing things God has done among us. GiG Leaders . . . post away! :-)

Incensed!

Last week, I mailed a card to a friend that included some mints and an iTunes gift card. Tonight, I found out that the card arrived, but that the envelope had been opened and it was completely empty! No card. No iTunes card. No mints. Just an empty envelope. I was incensed! Has anyone ever experienced anything like this? Does anyone know a way that I can state an official complaint to the the Postal service? Grrrrrrrrrr.

Avalanche Fun

Well, it's started this week. Our VBS, Kidz GiG, kicked off yesterday with a Western bang! I came home around 6 PM yesterday, was asleep by 7 and slept for almost 12 hours! When the kids left that first day, so did the adrenaline that I'd been living on for the days before. These past few days have been chalked full of lessons that God's been teaching me. Here are a few:

• Delegation - Sunday night I was feeling a little nervous about all the registration and administrative details for the next morning. Last year I had spent the days before camp literally not sleeping in order to get everything done. When it was done, I was exhausted, but I knew that it was right. This year, I made what was the better choice, and allowed other people to handle all the registration details over these past few months. This choice meant, however, that the night before camp I had to simply trust these very capable leaders, and let it go. What resulted was a great registration time (even for Day 1) and other people who enjoyed doing jobs that they wouldn't have been able to do.
• Ego - The night before Kidz GiG, I was walking through a back hallway, one that was designated to be decorated by a group of middle schoolers. As I walked through, it wasn't hard for me to believe that the decoration was executed by those who were just old enough to legally see a PG-13 movie. A huge part of me was compelled to take down all the work, and do it over myself (which would have definitely taken a few more hours). I was convicted with the thought, however, "Would redoing this job help children learn and know about Jesus even better?" The answer for me was a resounding, "No!" Pulling in a group of people to carry out a task is not necessarily the most efficient way of accomplishing something in the short term (as many times it's just faster to do it myself), but it's certainly the most rewarding in that so many more people are changed and blessed. How humbling to think that God doesn't need me to accomplish His plans (He's certainly more than capable of doing it Himself), but He allows and chooses me to carry them out, giving me the gift of purpose and meaning.

Tomorrow will mark the half-way point, one that will end with me and my partner, Darren, getting pied. I'll post some pictures when I get them. :-)

Na, Na, Na, Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Good-bye!

I've worn glasses or contacts since the seventh grade, only being able to see the big "E" on the eye chart without some type of optical help. My eyesight had just become a way of life, working around contact solutions, eye drops, and cleaning glasses lenses. So, when I was given the opportunity to accept a remarkable gift of tremendously discounted LASIK eye surgery, you'd think I'd jump at the chance. And yet, I must confess, I hesitated.

My first reaction was, "I'm not sure if I want to get LASIK because sometimes, I just like wearing my glasses." Yep, I feel sheepish just writing it. I quickly determined that if I was in one of my scholarly moods that required wearing some chic glasses, I could just buy a fake pair of glasses because, as a friend enlightened me, "Wearing a fake pair of glasses is about as dumb as turning down the gift of eye surgery."

Once I had resolved that issue, I was next faced with some very real fears about this surgery. Granted every person I had ever talked to who had this surgery only raved about how easy and revolutionary it was, yet I was uncertain that I might be "that one person" who experienced the dramatic side effects. Watching the "informative (we don't want you to be able to sue us)" DVD didn't really help either. It was basically 15 minutes describing just about everything that could go wrong including displacing my cornea, having my eyes feel "gritty," and even blindness. My favorite quote was from my doctor when he said, "You may smell a burning smell during the surgery. Don't panic. It's completely normal." Normal . . . uh huh.

The part that really stuck out to me, however, was when they said on the video, "Know that you are choosing to have an irreversible, permanent procedure done to your eyes . . ." They were right. I was choosing this. I was choosing to undergo surgery along with all the potential risks that came with it. And when I was struggling with all those risks, I read one other key piece of information on my papers. "The only way to completely avoid the risks involved with LASIK is to not have the surgery." And there it was. The choice was mine. I could walk away from the opportunity due to my fears of the possible detriments that could occur. Or, I could choose to have the surgery, believing that the potential reward was well worth the work and risk involved.

As you can see from my pictures, I chose to have the surgery (I'm waving good-bye to my glasses). And, as you can see from my subsequent after picture (taken from my phone right after the surgery) IT WAS AMAZING!!! Truly, REMARKABLE!!! The whole world looks different . . . clearer, brighter . . . night and day. To think that I almost passed up the opportunity to be healed, changed, more whole, well, I'm saddened to think about it.

Like He does so many times, God used the situation to get past my eyes and point to an even bigger condition of my heart. If I were honest, there are some areas of hurt and pain from my past that while I may have done some preliminary work to get them to a place where they are "functioning" from day to day, I've not committed to pressing through, taking the risk to allow Jesus to write my prescription and to follow the rigors of the healing process whatever they may be. I'll glamorize my hurt like my glasses, a bizarre dysfunction to desire to hold on to them. I've settled for a life of myopic living, seeing enough to get by and dealing with crutches and "glasses" to get me through.

After my surgery, I'm feeling a new empowerment to embrace the risk when Jesus is involved, acknowledging the work and potential complications, but reaching for the reward that is far beyond what I could have ever imagined.

Oh No!

If you check my blog through bloglines and just tried to look at my last post before I was able to change the picture know that I still have no idea how that picture came up and it was not intentional. Hopefully no one else saw it, you're simply confused reading this post, and it's only me who is terribly disturbed . . . :(

I Am Noggin

So you might remember a post from a few weeks ago when I related the story of my fine, feathered friend affectionately named . . . Noggin. In case you were still curious, I thought you'd like to know that Noggin is still going strong . . . every day . . . over and over and over again against my window. I really don't even notice him much anymore until I see the pained look on the faces of visitors to my office for the first time watching the ornithological masochist bash himself on my glass. I introduce them to Noggin and then usually do pause to realize that it is quite remarkable that this bird has been at this since May 2006.

Maybe what's even more remarkable is that in many ways my "Nogginyness" continues. I continually find ways to forget what God has done in the past or worry about how I will get things done or live as if I am in control of my life and in each case, I'm only hurting myself when I do this. I've mentioned during these past several posts that we have our Vacation Bible School coming up a week from Monday (July 9-13). Even though I can clearly know that it was God who brought this together in the past and it will be God who will equip me and the other leaders to accomplish His good work, I still struggle with keeping that perspective on things. I get so caught up in trying to get everything done and I place so much pressure on myself that I let my life get out of balance, not taking time to rest, to do things I enjoy doing (like blogging . . . obviously), or simply being quiet to pray.

Maybe each time I hear the little "tap, tap, tap" (or painfully loud crash) on my window, I'll actually take notice of it again, remembering that "I am Noggin." It'll hopefully move me one step closer to flying on to a new way of living.

Wacky Words

So for whatever reason, my brain has been spending time thinking recently about how weird the English language is. It really doesn't make any sense and defies all logic.

For example:

• Why is "To" pronounced the same way as "two," but "No" isn't pronounced as "Noo?"
• Should I start pronouncing my name as "Lhah" if "Yeah" is pronounced the way that it is?
• "Hey" sounds completely different than "Key," yet phonetically they should be the same, right?

I guess my brain is resorting to some less than deep thoughts in the midst of my VBS planning. Any insights?