Tomorrow feels big.
Tomorrow, I’ll step into my first exam room as a 3rd year PA student on clinical rotations. I’ll see my first patient who may be as nervous about their condition as I am about solving their puzzle. I’ll sit and listen, ask questions, examine their ears or eyes or hips or feet, and then smile and leave the room to get ready for the next step.
Tomorrow, all those powerpoints, lectures, practice exams, real exams, tears, late nights, early mornings, cups of coffee, prayers, and words of support come crashing together into a window of time where I’ll try to sort out all the pieces and find an answer.
Tomorrow, when I smile and leave the room, I’ll be frantically dashing to a book or computer to look for supporting information for what I’m thinking. I’ll put some notes on a piece of paper, and as calmly and collectedly as possible, I’ll present my findings to my preceptor hoping for a stamp of approval (while also wanting to learn and grow and see things from a new angle).
Tomorrow feels like the beginning. I’m so close to achieving this dream. (Oh praise God that I’ve not chased this dream alone.)
Tomorrow feels heady. We’re in the middle of a pandemic. I’m well aware of that.
Tomorrow feels exciting. I’m ready to interact with patients. I’m ready to start making a difference. I (think) I’m ready.
Thank you all for your prayers, love, and support. Guys, we’re so close.
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Monday, January 13, 2020
Anxiety? Let's talk about it.
What is mental health to you? My understanding has made a large shift in the past 18 months, and I'd like to take you on this journey with me.
Preparing to leave for PA school was one of the more stressful times of my life. I remember asking my bible study to pray for me over and over again because I couldn't seem to get myself into gear to make some big (and little) decisions. I needed an apartment, electric, internet, renter's insurance, and scrubs! Good grief, I couldn't bring myself to order scrubs! Just looking at them on Amazon made me want to cry (okay, actually cry). Here I was wanting to go to PA school but dragging my feet to make any concrete decisions. I knew something was off, but I really didn't know what.
During the first week of PA school, I went to the student health clinic for a physical. It was a routine part of our onboarding. I filled out the paperwork and completed the depression and anxiety questionnaire. It all felt standard. Routine.
When my PA walked in the room, she kindly asked if we could reschedule the physical and address my anxiety. What? My anxiety? I don't have anxiety.
-
Flashback to 2015. I went through a fairly rough breakup and decided to see a licensed professional counselor (LPC). I never realized how much stigma and shame I associated with seeing an LPC. For several months, I didn't tell a soul. I quietly went to my weekly sessions, hashed it out with my counselor, and left. In the beginning, I was terrified I was going to get diagnosed with some big, bad disease and felt like I needed to wait it out and see where I ended up.
I wasn't diagnosed with anything. Instead, I found that counseling helped me work through a lot of obstacles, dreads, and disappointments in my life. It brought life to my soul. And eventually I couldn't stop talking about it. Everyone needs to go to counseling!
-
Returning to 2018. How could I have anxiety? I didn't remember any excessive worrying. Isn't that what anxiety is? The PA began to explain that anxiety could manifest in a lot of ways, in addition to worrying. Difficulty sleeping. Fatigue. Heart palpitations. Difficulty making decisions. Avoiding responsibilities. Oh shoot. That's me. I started to cry in her office. I was both scared at what this new term meant for me but also relieved to put a name to all of these things that I'd been carrying for a while.
I walked away that day with a list of self-care ideas, a referral to a psychiatrist, and a prescription for a common anxiety med.
Just like those early days in counseling, it took a long time to sort through my thoughts and feelings surrounding this new development. I felt broken. I felt weak. I felt like I had lost control of something important and had no idea how to set it back in order.
But little by little, I made peace with this new version of me. I now see the psychiatrist 4 times a year, I take my meds, I go for walks, I take naps. And I talk to people about my anxiety.
After 3 adjustments to my medications and a lot of prayer, self-reflection, counseling, friends, and studying about anxiety, I recently told the doc I feel like my anxiety is at a 1 or 2 out of 10 most days. I rarely feel the heart palpitations any more. I can recognize the anxiety rising in my chest and neck and take a time out. I haven't cried after a test in months. I feel on solid ground again.
Why do we shrink away from talking about mental health? I think because it's not tangible. You can't see the figurative gash in my brain that paralyzes me. It seems easier to explain it away as weakness, a lack of faith, or laziness. If you know me, if you truly know my heart, you know I am none of these things. I am strong (both mentally and physically), I trust the Lord, and though I love tv, I'm not lazy.
So, where does that leave us? Brain chemistry. When I knew something was off, it really was off.
I'm not sure how long this anxiety plans to stick around. The rest of PA school? The rest of my life? I'm unsure. But I know I have the tools and people and support around me to tackle it. I know the Lord hasn't left me but is walking alongside me in this. I know that 1 out of 5 people are going to deal with a mental health problem during their lifetime, and I'm now ready and equipped to help them through it.
You hear the cliche that everyone is going through something. I hope this opens your eyes that behind my loud laugh and big smile is more than what you may have thought.
Much love.
Preparing to leave for PA school was one of the more stressful times of my life. I remember asking my bible study to pray for me over and over again because I couldn't seem to get myself into gear to make some big (and little) decisions. I needed an apartment, electric, internet, renter's insurance, and scrubs! Good grief, I couldn't bring myself to order scrubs! Just looking at them on Amazon made me want to cry (okay, actually cry). Here I was wanting to go to PA school but dragging my feet to make any concrete decisions. I knew something was off, but I really didn't know what.
During the first week of PA school, I went to the student health clinic for a physical. It was a routine part of our onboarding. I filled out the paperwork and completed the depression and anxiety questionnaire. It all felt standard. Routine.
When my PA walked in the room, she kindly asked if we could reschedule the physical and address my anxiety. What? My anxiety? I don't have anxiety.
-
Flashback to 2015. I went through a fairly rough breakup and decided to see a licensed professional counselor (LPC). I never realized how much stigma and shame I associated with seeing an LPC. For several months, I didn't tell a soul. I quietly went to my weekly sessions, hashed it out with my counselor, and left. In the beginning, I was terrified I was going to get diagnosed with some big, bad disease and felt like I needed to wait it out and see where I ended up.
I wasn't diagnosed with anything. Instead, I found that counseling helped me work through a lot of obstacles, dreads, and disappointments in my life. It brought life to my soul. And eventually I couldn't stop talking about it. Everyone needs to go to counseling!
-
Returning to 2018. How could I have anxiety? I didn't remember any excessive worrying. Isn't that what anxiety is? The PA began to explain that anxiety could manifest in a lot of ways, in addition to worrying. Difficulty sleeping. Fatigue. Heart palpitations. Difficulty making decisions. Avoiding responsibilities. Oh shoot. That's me. I started to cry in her office. I was both scared at what this new term meant for me but also relieved to put a name to all of these things that I'd been carrying for a while.
I walked away that day with a list of self-care ideas, a referral to a psychiatrist, and a prescription for a common anxiety med.
Just like those early days in counseling, it took a long time to sort through my thoughts and feelings surrounding this new development. I felt broken. I felt weak. I felt like I had lost control of something important and had no idea how to set it back in order.
But little by little, I made peace with this new version of me. I now see the psychiatrist 4 times a year, I take my meds, I go for walks, I take naps. And I talk to people about my anxiety.
After 3 adjustments to my medications and a lot of prayer, self-reflection, counseling, friends, and studying about anxiety, I recently told the doc I feel like my anxiety is at a 1 or 2 out of 10 most days. I rarely feel the heart palpitations any more. I can recognize the anxiety rising in my chest and neck and take a time out. I haven't cried after a test in months. I feel on solid ground again.
Why do we shrink away from talking about mental health? I think because it's not tangible. You can't see the figurative gash in my brain that paralyzes me. It seems easier to explain it away as weakness, a lack of faith, or laziness. If you know me, if you truly know my heart, you know I am none of these things. I am strong (both mentally and physically), I trust the Lord, and though I love tv, I'm not lazy.
So, where does that leave us? Brain chemistry. When I knew something was off, it really was off.
I'm not sure how long this anxiety plans to stick around. The rest of PA school? The rest of my life? I'm unsure. But I know I have the tools and people and support around me to tackle it. I know the Lord hasn't left me but is walking alongside me in this. I know that 1 out of 5 people are going to deal with a mental health problem during their lifetime, and I'm now ready and equipped to help them through it.
You hear the cliche that everyone is going through something. I hope this opens your eyes that behind my loud laugh and big smile is more than what you may have thought.
Much love.
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Fast
This week I will turn 36. I now understand what people mean when they say, "where does the time go?"
Life is speeding up.
I am 14 months into a 34-month PA program. Some days, I feel like we started a month ago. Then, days like today happen, and I am shown how much I've actually learned.
We had a club meeting at lunch, and one of my favorite professors talked about her various jobs since graduating PA school. Toward the end, she presented 4 interesting cases. While she ran down the patient's chief complaint, medical history, medication history, and physical exam, I was struck that I understood everything she was saying. September-2018-Christen would have been so lost. "CMP, CBC, CT... What?" I followed her thought process and smiled inside. "Maybe I can do this."
PA school is like nothing else I've experienced in life...and I've experienced a lot of life. School was always fairly easy for me. I made my one and only B from K-12 in high school chemistry. I made 3 Bs in undergrad and managed straight-As in PA school prerequisites. I came into school expecting a challenge. I was not prepared for a full-life onslaught.
I am pushed to the breaking point at least once a month, if not weekly. I have cried in multiple faculty members' offices. I have made my first C, while fearing actual failure. I have composed imaginary apology emails to professors mid-exam because I "knew" I was failing.
PA school is 7-8 hours a day in a classroom, with 3-4 hours of studying in the evenings, and 10-12 hours of studying each Saturday and Sunday, only to make a 76 on a midterm. It's 4 quizzes a week and a test on your birthday while being required to complete side assignments and geriatric home visits.
It's beyond hard.
Daily, I question my own ability and intelligence and why on earth they ever let me in. I find myself doubting God—his ability to hold me, lead me, and see me through this season. How can this possibly work out?
.
But PA school is also incredible. It's worth it. I am learning things I've craved to know my whole life. Soon, I will be able to deliver babies, sew up cuts, read X-rays/MRIs/CTs, write prescriptions, and hopefully save some lives.
I have made "in the trenches" friends. Have you ever sat at a coffee shop and studied, cried, laughed, and hugged all the baristas in the span of an hour? I have. Have you been in a group text that makes you laugh so hard you leak actual tears? This happens to me almost daily. Do you take turns talking your friends off cliffs so they can talk you off one the next day? Yep. I do. I have a legit tribe.
Last night, over sushi, I had the opportunity to remember a moment of God's faithfulness. Four years ago this week, the week of my birthday 2015, I finally said out loud to my parents that I wanted to go to PA school. I knew what this dream would mean, the sacrifice it would require. About two weeks after that conversation, I got in touch with a realtor to look into selling my (dream) house. I was still on the fence about committing to this path, but I figured I would start the conversation.
The morning after the realtor walked through my house, he called to ask if he could show it to someone, even though he knew I was undecided.
Twenty-four hours later, I had a contract on my house. At my asking price.
"Okay, God. Okay."
And from that point, I haven't looked back.
I sold my house. I quit my job. I moved in with my parents while I worked on prerequisites. I survived prereqs and got into a PA school on the first try.
"Okay, God."
Yet somehow, I still doubt. How human of me.
I find myself turning to worship music quite often when I study. It brings me back to truth when all I feel is darkness. This is the song I have on repeat often (literally at this moment):
"When I fear my faith will fail
Christ will hold me fast
When the tempter would prevail
He will hold me fast
I could never keep my hold
Through life’s fearful path
For my love is often cold
He must hold me fast
He will hold me fast
He will hold me fast
For my Savior loves me so
He will hold me fast." -Sovereign Grace Music
It's true. He will hold me fast—through success or failure, whatever may come—my Savior loves me so and will hold me fast.
Much love,
Christen
Life is speeding up.
I am 14 months into a 34-month PA program. Some days, I feel like we started a month ago. Then, days like today happen, and I am shown how much I've actually learned.
We had a club meeting at lunch, and one of my favorite professors talked about her various jobs since graduating PA school. Toward the end, she presented 4 interesting cases. While she ran down the patient's chief complaint, medical history, medication history, and physical exam, I was struck that I understood everything she was saying. September-2018-Christen would have been so lost. "CMP, CBC, CT... What?" I followed her thought process and smiled inside. "Maybe I can do this."
PA school is like nothing else I've experienced in life...and I've experienced a lot of life. School was always fairly easy for me. I made my one and only B from K-12 in high school chemistry. I made 3 Bs in undergrad and managed straight-As in PA school prerequisites. I came into school expecting a challenge. I was not prepared for a full-life onslaught.
I am pushed to the breaking point at least once a month, if not weekly. I have cried in multiple faculty members' offices. I have made my first C, while fearing actual failure. I have composed imaginary apology emails to professors mid-exam because I "knew" I was failing.
PA school is 7-8 hours a day in a classroom, with 3-4 hours of studying in the evenings, and 10-12 hours of studying each Saturday and Sunday, only to make a 76 on a midterm. It's 4 quizzes a week and a test on your birthday while being required to complete side assignments and geriatric home visits.
It's beyond hard.
Daily, I question my own ability and intelligence and why on earth they ever let me in. I find myself doubting God—his ability to hold me, lead me, and see me through this season. How can this possibly work out?
.
But PA school is also incredible. It's worth it. I am learning things I've craved to know my whole life. Soon, I will be able to deliver babies, sew up cuts, read X-rays/MRIs/CTs, write prescriptions, and hopefully save some lives.
I have made "in the trenches" friends. Have you ever sat at a coffee shop and studied, cried, laughed, and hugged all the baristas in the span of an hour? I have. Have you been in a group text that makes you laugh so hard you leak actual tears? This happens to me almost daily. Do you take turns talking your friends off cliffs so they can talk you off one the next day? Yep. I do. I have a legit tribe.
Last night, over sushi, I had the opportunity to remember a moment of God's faithfulness. Four years ago this week, the week of my birthday 2015, I finally said out loud to my parents that I wanted to go to PA school. I knew what this dream would mean, the sacrifice it would require. About two weeks after that conversation, I got in touch with a realtor to look into selling my (dream) house. I was still on the fence about committing to this path, but I figured I would start the conversation.
The morning after the realtor walked through my house, he called to ask if he could show it to someone, even though he knew I was undecided.
Twenty-four hours later, I had a contract on my house. At my asking price.
"Okay, God. Okay."
And from that point, I haven't looked back.
I sold my house. I quit my job. I moved in with my parents while I worked on prerequisites. I survived prereqs and got into a PA school on the first try.
"Okay, God."
Yet somehow, I still doubt. How human of me.
I find myself turning to worship music quite often when I study. It brings me back to truth when all I feel is darkness. This is the song I have on repeat often (literally at this moment):
"When I fear my faith will fail
Christ will hold me fast
When the tempter would prevail
He will hold me fast
I could never keep my hold
Through life’s fearful path
For my love is often cold
He must hold me fast
He will hold me fast
He will hold me fast
For my Savior loves me so
He will hold me fast." -Sovereign Grace Music
It's true. He will hold me fast—through success or failure, whatever may come—my Savior loves me so and will hold me fast.
Much love,
Christen
Tuesday, January 29, 2019
Very good.
We’re getting close to a year without my precious Nannie. It seems nearly impossible. To know Nannie was to know love. And I knew her love for 34 1/2 wonderful years.
Now that I’m in PA school, I sit at my desk and study. A lot. I also sit there and daydream and waste time and generally do anything but study. I recently hung this picture near my desk. It means I get to look at it quite a bit. I think I was 24 in that picture. If it’s from the Christmas I’m thinking of, I missed Christmas that year because of my job. I was a flight attendant with a crazy schedule who just wanted to be at home with her family. I worked a two-day trip on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to Tampa. The pilots took us all out to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner on Christmas Eve. Even though we were stuffed with dinner, they insisted we get cheesecake to go, and they paid for the whole crew. It was a bright spot in a miserable trip. I woke up Christmas morning, ate cheesecake for breakfast in my hotel bed, and cried. I couldn’t believe I was spending Christmas alone.
Christmas. Nannie’s favorite holiday. Wait, that’s not right. Her favorite day. Ever. She lived to make Christmas magical. She had 13 grandchildren, yet each of us felt like her favorite. She knew how much I loved her Christmas decorations, so she made sure to have the tree up before Thanksgiving Day. Every year she would say, “I went ahead and got the tree up because I know Christen likes it up before Thanksgiving.” She said it like this was the first year she decided to do it. But it was every year. The recognition and feeling so known in such a seemingly odd way sticks with me.
It wasn’t just the presents either. It was being 5 years old and sleeping 4 deep on hideabeds with my cousins while bells and hoofs rattled the roof. It was the whispers about Santa. The joy of waking up Nannie and Granddaddy before sunrise because we just knew Santa had come. It was being made to wait in the hallway for what felt like hours while the parents huddled in the living room to catch us on video in all of our bedhead glory. It was sitting on the back porch and swinging with her as she asked if we got everything we asked for. It was the big lunch or dinner and then cramming 20+ people in the living room to open presents. Sure, the presents were great, but the joy of watching Nannie beam over each grandchild’s happy face was so much better. She wasn’t effusive. When you said “thank you,” she would just sweetly dip her head as if to say “you’re welcome.” Magic. The day was magic.
That Christmas of the cheesecake and tears in Tampa, I knew I only had the 26th off. I got back to Houston really late on the 25th and drove 4 1/2 hours to my grandparents’. And you know what? Christmas at Nannie and Granddaddy’s House was magically on the 26th that year. They waited for me. She insisted they wait on me.
My sweet, precious Nannie’s mind was stolen away by dementia. One of the last things I had a chance to tell her when she was still making memories was that I was going back to school. I told her about quitting my landman job and going to UT Tyler to finish some prerequisites. She and my Granddaddy were so supportive. Over the next couple of years, unfortunately she didn’t remember what I was doing. Despite the illness taking her memories, she retained so much of who she was. When I would visit, I always told her about school, and I got to share the exciting news that I was accepted to PA school. Even when I knew she didn’t remember what I was up to, she would dip her sweet little head and say, “very good.”
It’s the words that I hear in my head.
She was quiet and steady and a women fully devoted to God and her family. I hope to be her one day, and I think I know what she would say.
“Very good.”
Now that I’m in PA school, I sit at my desk and study. A lot. I also sit there and daydream and waste time and generally do anything but study. I recently hung this picture near my desk. It means I get to look at it quite a bit. I think I was 24 in that picture. If it’s from the Christmas I’m thinking of, I missed Christmas that year because of my job. I was a flight attendant with a crazy schedule who just wanted to be at home with her family. I worked a two-day trip on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to Tampa. The pilots took us all out to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner on Christmas Eve. Even though we were stuffed with dinner, they insisted we get cheesecake to go, and they paid for the whole crew. It was a bright spot in a miserable trip. I woke up Christmas morning, ate cheesecake for breakfast in my hotel bed, and cried. I couldn’t believe I was spending Christmas alone.
Christmas. Nannie’s favorite holiday. Wait, that’s not right. Her favorite day. Ever. She lived to make Christmas magical. She had 13 grandchildren, yet each of us felt like her favorite. She knew how much I loved her Christmas decorations, so she made sure to have the tree up before Thanksgiving Day. Every year she would say, “I went ahead and got the tree up because I know Christen likes it up before Thanksgiving.” She said it like this was the first year she decided to do it. But it was every year. The recognition and feeling so known in such a seemingly odd way sticks with me.
It wasn’t just the presents either. It was being 5 years old and sleeping 4 deep on hideabeds with my cousins while bells and hoofs rattled the roof. It was the whispers about Santa. The joy of waking up Nannie and Granddaddy before sunrise because we just knew Santa had come. It was being made to wait in the hallway for what felt like hours while the parents huddled in the living room to catch us on video in all of our bedhead glory. It was sitting on the back porch and swinging with her as she asked if we got everything we asked for. It was the big lunch or dinner and then cramming 20+ people in the living room to open presents. Sure, the presents were great, but the joy of watching Nannie beam over each grandchild’s happy face was so much better. She wasn’t effusive. When you said “thank you,” she would just sweetly dip her head as if to say “you’re welcome.” Magic. The day was magic.
That Christmas of the cheesecake and tears in Tampa, I knew I only had the 26th off. I got back to Houston really late on the 25th and drove 4 1/2 hours to my grandparents’. And you know what? Christmas at Nannie and Granddaddy’s House was magically on the 26th that year. They waited for me. She insisted they wait on me.
My sweet, precious Nannie’s mind was stolen away by dementia. One of the last things I had a chance to tell her when she was still making memories was that I was going back to school. I told her about quitting my landman job and going to UT Tyler to finish some prerequisites. She and my Granddaddy were so supportive. Over the next couple of years, unfortunately she didn’t remember what I was doing. Despite the illness taking her memories, she retained so much of who she was. When I would visit, I always told her about school, and I got to share the exciting news that I was accepted to PA school. Even when I knew she didn’t remember what I was up to, she would dip her sweet little head and say, “very good.”
It’s the words that I hear in my head.
She was quiet and steady and a women fully devoted to God and her family. I hope to be her one day, and I think I know what she would say.
“Very good.”
Monday, December 17, 2012
Heavy Heart
When life seems unfair, I turn introspective. I struggle with questions like every normal person.
Why is there so much evil?
Why can't we make it stop?
What could have been done differently to protect those precious children?
Why won't the Lord just come back and rescue us from all this destruction?
I get overwhelmed with the injustice in our world. Twenty innocent lives were lost on Friday at the hands of a young man who was more than likely mentally ill and fighting his own demons. We point fingers at guns or politics or communities who surely saw the violent potential in this boy, yet we refuse to analyze our own lives, shortcomings, and mistakes and see where our words and actions kill, even if not literally. Thank God I have been blessed with a mind that thinks clearly and impulses I can control. But do I ever look twice at the people around me who may be struggling with illness? Do I lend a hand or volunteer my time? No. I rely on the "system" that is in place to deal with these people. I didn't go to medical school to learn about the depths of mental illness, nor do I have the understanding to genuinely help, which makes me feel helpless. Instead, I do nothing. And this is where the cycle of feeling overwhelmed loops back to the beginning, and I feel crushed with anguish and frustration. But so often I forget I have a powerful tool in my arsenal; I have prayer. As much evil as there is in this world, we have someone who is already victorious and who listens to the cries of his people. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Prayer. I have prayer.
Sadly, while people in all walks of life are up in arms about this very public, media-attracting tragedy, little boys and girls in your town, where you sit reading this, are being kidnapped, drugged, and sold into sex slavery, and yet you never hear about it. Ever. We turn a blind eye to prostitution because we want to imagine that it's dirty men looking for their sexual "fix" and filthy girls who are willingly subjecting themselves to it for money and drugs. Yet, that is the minority! The majority of these girls, some not even old enough to attend your local kindergarten, are being taken and forced into sex with much older men. Not always the men you'd expect either; a lot of times it's husbands, lawyers, doctors, pastors, the "good" men in our communities. And though these children might be the "throw aways" of society: the orphans, runaways, "bad" kids, they are still someone's little, sweet, innocent girl, and she is being sold, like livestock, to men who beat her and make her do unimaginable things. They grow up in this environment of fear, with no resources, and no way out, so they continue the only thing they know, selling their bodies.
While people are screaming about gun control, can someone please scream about sex trafficking? Can we get some help prosecuting pimps (those forcing them into sex) and johns (those paying for the sex), rather than blaming the girls (the victims)? Until we kill the root of the sex trade operation, it will continue. According to the FBI's webpage on Human Sex Trafficking, "It is the fastest-growing business of organized crime and the third-largest criminal enterprise in the world." It generates billions of dollars world-wide each year. It is a much bigger problem that you ever thought to imagine. If you have 2 hours, please watch the documentary "Nefarious: Merchant of Souls." I think it's on Netflix now. It will make you cry and hold your children a little tighter.
I am happy to say that there are some ministries out there to help these precious children get out. In East Texas, "Refuge of Light" is raising funds to build a facility where sex trafficking victims can come to safely get out, be educated, and grow into adults with options. Please look at their website: http://refugeoflight.org/ When I was in college, I went on a mission trip to the Dream Center of Los Angeles. It was my first exposure to sex trafficking, and it was terrifying. They offer a safe place to recover and also be educated. Here is their website: http://www.dreamcenter.org/resource-project/human-trafficking/ These are the ones I personally know and have worked with and can say are worthy of your money and time. These girls, these children, are worthy of our money and time.
Please educate yourself on human sex trafficking. I know it's not the only evil out there, but it's one that I feel I can impact with prayer, time, and money.
Why is there so much evil?
Why can't we make it stop?
What could have been done differently to protect those precious children?
Why won't the Lord just come back and rescue us from all this destruction?
I get overwhelmed with the injustice in our world. Twenty innocent lives were lost on Friday at the hands of a young man who was more than likely mentally ill and fighting his own demons. We point fingers at guns or politics or communities who surely saw the violent potential in this boy, yet we refuse to analyze our own lives, shortcomings, and mistakes and see where our words and actions kill, even if not literally. Thank God I have been blessed with a mind that thinks clearly and impulses I can control. But do I ever look twice at the people around me who may be struggling with illness? Do I lend a hand or volunteer my time? No. I rely on the "system" that is in place to deal with these people. I didn't go to medical school to learn about the depths of mental illness, nor do I have the understanding to genuinely help, which makes me feel helpless. Instead, I do nothing. And this is where the cycle of feeling overwhelmed loops back to the beginning, and I feel crushed with anguish and frustration. But so often I forget I have a powerful tool in my arsenal; I have prayer. As much evil as there is in this world, we have someone who is already victorious and who listens to the cries of his people. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Prayer. I have prayer.
Sadly, while people in all walks of life are up in arms about this very public, media-attracting tragedy, little boys and girls in your town, where you sit reading this, are being kidnapped, drugged, and sold into sex slavery, and yet you never hear about it. Ever. We turn a blind eye to prostitution because we want to imagine that it's dirty men looking for their sexual "fix" and filthy girls who are willingly subjecting themselves to it for money and drugs. Yet, that is the minority! The majority of these girls, some not even old enough to attend your local kindergarten, are being taken and forced into sex with much older men. Not always the men you'd expect either; a lot of times it's husbands, lawyers, doctors, pastors, the "good" men in our communities. And though these children might be the "throw aways" of society: the orphans, runaways, "bad" kids, they are still someone's little, sweet, innocent girl, and she is being sold, like livestock, to men who beat her and make her do unimaginable things. They grow up in this environment of fear, with no resources, and no way out, so they continue the only thing they know, selling their bodies.
While people are screaming about gun control, can someone please scream about sex trafficking? Can we get some help prosecuting pimps (those forcing them into sex) and johns (those paying for the sex), rather than blaming the girls (the victims)? Until we kill the root of the sex trade operation, it will continue. According to the FBI's webpage on Human Sex Trafficking, "It is the fastest-growing business of organized crime and the third-largest criminal enterprise in the world." It generates billions of dollars world-wide each year. It is a much bigger problem that you ever thought to imagine. If you have 2 hours, please watch the documentary "Nefarious: Merchant of Souls." I think it's on Netflix now. It will make you cry and hold your children a little tighter.
I am happy to say that there are some ministries out there to help these precious children get out. In East Texas, "Refuge of Light" is raising funds to build a facility where sex trafficking victims can come to safely get out, be educated, and grow into adults with options. Please look at their website: http://refugeoflight.org/ When I was in college, I went on a mission trip to the Dream Center of Los Angeles. It was my first exposure to sex trafficking, and it was terrifying. They offer a safe place to recover and also be educated. Here is their website: http://www.dreamcenter.org/resource-project/human-trafficking/ These are the ones I personally know and have worked with and can say are worthy of your money and time. These girls, these children, are worthy of our money and time.
Please educate yourself on human sex trafficking. I know it's not the only evil out there, but it's one that I feel I can impact with prayer, time, and money.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Life, as I know it
It's been a while since I've posted anything. Probably because I'm not changing jobs, or moving, or any of the other big adventures you're used to me doing.
I'm just living life as it comes.
I am still enjoying being a landman. Every day is a new challenge, but I feel successful and so very thankful. Next week will be one year with my broker, but I still have so much to learn! Oil and gas is a very detailed, complicated business, and I've just scratched the surface.
I'm also thankful to be living in Tyler and getting to see my nephews as often as I want. We had a sleepover last week, complete with kids' meals, crowns, the Avengers, and paint. It's amazing to watch them grow and learn and develop these precious little personalities. Eli is so inquisitive and keeps me on my toes. He is in 1st grade and needs to know everything...how electricity conducts, how Hawkeye (Avengers) doesn't run out of arrows, or what would happen to the tides if the moon shrunk. I can't make this stuff up. And little Joe is not so little anymore. He is 3 and almost as tall as Eli. He loves to run, jump, punch, and climb. He is so sweet when he wants to be. And he does a killer robot impression. He has dubbed himself the Happy Robot. It's adorable. He's also obsessed with lizards, frogs, insects, or anything else he can catch, put in a jar, and feed crickets.
This past weekend, I walked/jogged by first 5K. I decided when I turned 29, that I wanted to challenge myself to do a marathon in a year. Well, I've quickly scaled back that challenge from a marathon to a half marathon. I think 13.1 miles is enough of a challenge for one out of shape 29-year-old. My parents, little brother, and I participated in the Tyler Rose 5K. We all finished! And surprisingly, I loved it! It was an adrenelin rush. And though I'm still a little sore, I feel so accomplished. The next one is lined up for December 1 in Nacogdoches. I'd like to improve my time by 5-10 minutes and jog more, walk less. Hopefully in 4-5 months, I can advance to a 10K.
Other than that, not too much is going on. My cat, Meowers, is as crazy as ever. Our apartment is pretty great. And Christmas is really soon! Decorations in a month (or so)!
Christen
I'm just living life as it comes.
I am still enjoying being a landman. Every day is a new challenge, but I feel successful and so very thankful. Next week will be one year with my broker, but I still have so much to learn! Oil and gas is a very detailed, complicated business, and I've just scratched the surface.
I'm also thankful to be living in Tyler and getting to see my nephews as often as I want. We had a sleepover last week, complete with kids' meals, crowns, the Avengers, and paint. It's amazing to watch them grow and learn and develop these precious little personalities. Eli is so inquisitive and keeps me on my toes. He is in 1st grade and needs to know everything...how electricity conducts, how Hawkeye (Avengers) doesn't run out of arrows, or what would happen to the tides if the moon shrunk. I can't make this stuff up. And little Joe is not so little anymore. He is 3 and almost as tall as Eli. He loves to run, jump, punch, and climb. He is so sweet when he wants to be. And he does a killer robot impression. He has dubbed himself the Happy Robot. It's adorable. He's also obsessed with lizards, frogs, insects, or anything else he can catch, put in a jar, and feed crickets.
This past weekend, I walked/jogged by first 5K. I decided when I turned 29, that I wanted to challenge myself to do a marathon in a year. Well, I've quickly scaled back that challenge from a marathon to a half marathon. I think 13.1 miles is enough of a challenge for one out of shape 29-year-old. My parents, little brother, and I participated in the Tyler Rose 5K. We all finished! And surprisingly, I loved it! It was an adrenelin rush. And though I'm still a little sore, I feel so accomplished. The next one is lined up for December 1 in Nacogdoches. I'd like to improve my time by 5-10 minutes and jog more, walk less. Hopefully in 4-5 months, I can advance to a 10K.
Other than that, not too much is going on. My cat, Meowers, is as crazy as ever. Our apartment is pretty great. And Christmas is really soon! Decorations in a month (or so)!
Christen
Monday, February 13, 2012
Thoughts on a Rainy Day
I hate rain. To be completely honest, I hate water. I don’t like swimming, washing dishes, or getting flicked with water. I really don’t even like drinking the stuff. But I reluctantly do, usually as tea, though.
Nevertheless, today, outside, the rain is falling. After a very dry summer and hundreds of scary wildfires, I can’t begrudge the ground its water.
It makes me introspective though. It’s also Valentine’s week, which further makes me introspective. I’m like an unproductive, thinking, rain-hating sap this morning.
I think for a long time I've thought love was elusive to me. I’m too tall. Too short. Too girly. Too unfunny. Too demonstrative. Too. Too. Too.
But over the last 3 years, the Lord has been showing me, gently, that His ways are bigger than my ways.
I have had dynamic adventures.
I have stood on the beaches of the Atlantic and Pacific, both north and south of the equator. I have wandered the streets of NYC, Chicago, Boston, Philly, San Francisco, LA, Portland, Dallas, Atlanta, Tampa, and dozens more in between. I’ve traveled to multiple countries by plane. I’ve crossed the US by train. I’ve driven to California, Oregon, Canada, Illinois, Indiana, Florida, Mexico…I could go on. I have worked with some of the sweetest children on this planet, putting bandaids on cuts and ice packs on bruises. I have learned the skills required to save a life and am always ready to jump in and do so. I have learned that though I have the mental capacity and skills necessary to manage people, it brings me no pleasure. It makes me borderline crazy. And I’m beyond thankful that someone believed in me enough to give me that opportunity.
I believe I would not have found my way to my current job without all the aforementioned experiences. And I love being a landman.
The search for love has become less of a search. No more blind dates set up by friends, or awkward emails on eHarmony, or any of the other embarrassing things I’ve subjected myself to. At some point, it occurred to me that I could be unhappy, waiting forever. Or I could buck up, quit waiting and hoping, and get on with things.
If you’re reading this north of the Mason Dixon line, you’re thinking, “Crap, Christen, you’re 28. Not dead.” However, if you’re south, you get it. There are thousands of things I could blame it on… But bottom line, God has a different plan.
I had an epiphany this last week that my best days are still ahead of me. Whether I will fall in love and have children and get the whole “white picket fence” dream, or I’ll discover a new dream, like medical school, or living in China, or doing exactly what I’m doing today- researching families for my job, only God knows. I don’t plan anything more than 6 months in advance because I honestly don’t know where I’ll be in that amount of time, and I’ve never wanted to limit God. He can do whatever he wants with me. Either way, changing my attitude from “poor me” to “lucky me” isn’t exactly easy, but I think it’s very necessary. Who am I to question God’s timing? In retrospect, I’ve always seen the perfection in God’s timing and not mine. I believe one day this will all make sense, too.
So, why do I tell you this today? To get it out of my head, I guess. To let you know that I won’t be lying on the floor depressed tomorrow. Or sending myself flowers. Or drowning my sorrows in chocolates. Or even spending more than maybe 5 minutes on the way to work feeling sorry for myself. (Though I will allow myself those 5 minutes.)
I’m very happy where life and the Lord have taken me. I look forward to what’s still around the corner.
Much love.
Nevertheless, today, outside, the rain is falling. After a very dry summer and hundreds of scary wildfires, I can’t begrudge the ground its water.
It makes me introspective though. It’s also Valentine’s week, which further makes me introspective. I’m like an unproductive, thinking, rain-hating sap this morning.
I think for a long time I've thought love was elusive to me. I’m too tall. Too short. Too girly. Too unfunny. Too demonstrative. Too. Too. Too.
But over the last 3 years, the Lord has been showing me, gently, that His ways are bigger than my ways.
I have had dynamic adventures.
I have stood on the beaches of the Atlantic and Pacific, both north and south of the equator. I have wandered the streets of NYC, Chicago, Boston, Philly, San Francisco, LA, Portland, Dallas, Atlanta, Tampa, and dozens more in between. I’ve traveled to multiple countries by plane. I’ve crossed the US by train. I’ve driven to California, Oregon, Canada, Illinois, Indiana, Florida, Mexico…I could go on. I have worked with some of the sweetest children on this planet, putting bandaids on cuts and ice packs on bruises. I have learned the skills required to save a life and am always ready to jump in and do so. I have learned that though I have the mental capacity and skills necessary to manage people, it brings me no pleasure. It makes me borderline crazy. And I’m beyond thankful that someone believed in me enough to give me that opportunity.
I believe I would not have found my way to my current job without all the aforementioned experiences. And I love being a landman.
The search for love has become less of a search. No more blind dates set up by friends, or awkward emails on eHarmony, or any of the other embarrassing things I’ve subjected myself to. At some point, it occurred to me that I could be unhappy, waiting forever. Or I could buck up, quit waiting and hoping, and get on with things.
If you’re reading this north of the Mason Dixon line, you’re thinking, “Crap, Christen, you’re 28. Not dead.” However, if you’re south, you get it. There are thousands of things I could blame it on… But bottom line, God has a different plan.
I had an epiphany this last week that my best days are still ahead of me. Whether I will fall in love and have children and get the whole “white picket fence” dream, or I’ll discover a new dream, like medical school, or living in China, or doing exactly what I’m doing today- researching families for my job, only God knows. I don’t plan anything more than 6 months in advance because I honestly don’t know where I’ll be in that amount of time, and I’ve never wanted to limit God. He can do whatever he wants with me. Either way, changing my attitude from “poor me” to “lucky me” isn’t exactly easy, but I think it’s very necessary. Who am I to question God’s timing? In retrospect, I’ve always seen the perfection in God’s timing and not mine. I believe one day this will all make sense, too.
So, why do I tell you this today? To get it out of my head, I guess. To let you know that I won’t be lying on the floor depressed tomorrow. Or sending myself flowers. Or drowning my sorrows in chocolates. Or even spending more than maybe 5 minutes on the way to work feeling sorry for myself. (Though I will allow myself those 5 minutes.)
I’m very happy where life and the Lord have taken me. I look forward to what’s still around the corner.
Much love.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Day 27: Affections
Day 27: A Picture of Yourself with a Family Member
These people stir my affections:
I am not lost on the fact that I was born into a very special, and rare, family. Growing up, I did not grasp the concept of divorce, or fighting, or bitterness. I knew love, patience, and kindness. The few moments I have heard my parents heatedly disagree, I have never been scared. Because we are a family. A unit.
From the get-go, we have been tight-knit. We did everything together, and a lot of times, we still do. They are my biggest fans, and I theirs.
Growing up and growing in numbers has only brought us closer. How we survived 19 years without my sister-in-law, I'll never know. She belongs; she's one of us. And the two, precious little boys in the picture above make my heart full. I knew love on one level until they were born. Sometimes I secretly wonder how I will ever love my own children more. I mean, I know I will, but today, it doesn't seem possible.
The dynamic of my family unit only makes me more cautious when choosing a future husband. He stands to gain an amazing family, and I want to make sure he can handle it. ;) We are quite vocal about Scott's girlfriends because she's going to have to hang out with Sheila and me for the next 60 years. haha It's kinda funny, and yet, Sheila and I have discussed this, on more than one occasion. I'm quite serious.
The older I get, the more thankful I am for the family God has given me. I realize how lucky and blessed I am.
Family- I love you. :)
Christen
These people stir my affections:
I am not lost on the fact that I was born into a very special, and rare, family. Growing up, I did not grasp the concept of divorce, or fighting, or bitterness. I knew love, patience, and kindness. The few moments I have heard my parents heatedly disagree, I have never been scared. Because we are a family. A unit.
From the get-go, we have been tight-knit. We did everything together, and a lot of times, we still do. They are my biggest fans, and I theirs.
Growing up and growing in numbers has only brought us closer. How we survived 19 years without my sister-in-law, I'll never know. She belongs; she's one of us. And the two, precious little boys in the picture above make my heart full. I knew love on one level until they were born. Sometimes I secretly wonder how I will ever love my own children more. I mean, I know I will, but today, it doesn't seem possible.
The dynamic of my family unit only makes me more cautious when choosing a future husband. He stands to gain an amazing family, and I want to make sure he can handle it. ;) We are quite vocal about Scott's girlfriends because she's going to have to hang out with Sheila and me for the next 60 years. haha It's kinda funny, and yet, Sheila and I have discussed this, on more than one occasion. I'm quite serious.
The older I get, the more thankful I am for the family God has given me. I realize how lucky and blessed I am.
Family- I love you. :)
Christen
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Day 26: Ceramics
Day 26- A picture of something that means a lot to you
When I was living in McKinney, I had a lot of time on my hands. I worked during the day, but beyond that, I had no responsibilities or obligations. I was bored and needed something to do. I decided to take a couple of continuing education classes at the local community college, and I fell in love. First, I took Novel Writing. It was cool, and my writing evolved. No, I have not written a novel- okay, maybe a few chapters. Then I took a ceramics class. Coolest. Class. Ever. I went one night a week for about 8 weeks. I have so many cool things and memories. I miss it.
These pieces mean a lot to me. I love that I made these with my hands. The torquoise piece is my favorite. :)
When I was living in McKinney, I had a lot of time on my hands. I worked during the day, but beyond that, I had no responsibilities or obligations. I was bored and needed something to do. I decided to take a couple of continuing education classes at the local community college, and I fell in love. First, I took Novel Writing. It was cool, and my writing evolved. No, I have not written a novel- okay, maybe a few chapters. Then I took a ceramics class. Coolest. Class. Ever. I went one night a week for about 8 weeks. I have so many cool things and memories. I miss it.
These pieces mean a lot to me. I love that I made these with my hands. The torquoise piece is my favorite. :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Days 24 & 25- A Picture of My Day
Day 24- A picture of something that you wish you could change
I'm skipping Day 24. I don't know, I guess I'm happy with my path. I feel like anything I'd want to change will just sound like I'm unhappy with the way it is. So, yeah...on to day 25!
Day 25- A picture of your day
My days have changed quite a bit since I began this blogging journey. I went from being the night time assistant manager to the day time store manager. I've had to adjust to going to bed a whole lot earlier and getting up way too early for my liking. However, I get to come home during the daytime, which I like. And I get to come home to this:
My apartment is pretty beautiful right now. :) Yeah, I know you're jealous. ;)
I'm skipping Day 24. I don't know, I guess I'm happy with my path. I feel like anything I'd want to change will just sound like I'm unhappy with the way it is. So, yeah...on to day 25!
Day 25- A picture of your day
My days have changed quite a bit since I began this blogging journey. I went from being the night time assistant manager to the day time store manager. I've had to adjust to going to bed a whole lot earlier and getting up way too early for my liking. However, I get to come home during the daytime, which I like. And I get to come home to this:
My apartment is pretty beautiful right now. :) Yeah, I know you're jealous. ;)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Day 23: My favorite Book
Day 23- A picture of your favorite book
I read this book for the first time in high school. It's about an inch and a half thick, and I read it in 2 days.
It's exciting, sad, heart wrenching, joyous. It's set in the gold-mining era, and yet, it applies to today. It's based on the book of Hosea in the Bible and completely brings it to life.
I have reread it probably 5 times and loaned it out a thousand times. The picture above is actually my 3rd copy. The first one was loaned out to a fellow flight attendant and never returned. She bought me a new one. The second one was loaned out to a Chick-fil-A coworker and doused in soda. He also bought me a new one. I apparently loan them to great people. :)
I have never met someone who didn't love this book (or cry reading it).
Maybe I'll reread it this week. :)
I read this book for the first time in high school. It's about an inch and a half thick, and I read it in 2 days.
It's exciting, sad, heart wrenching, joyous. It's set in the gold-mining era, and yet, it applies to today. It's based on the book of Hosea in the Bible and completely brings it to life.
I have reread it probably 5 times and loaned it out a thousand times. The picture above is actually my 3rd copy. The first one was loaned out to a fellow flight attendant and never returned. She bought me a new one. The second one was loaned out to a Chick-fil-A coworker and doused in soda. He also bought me a new one. I apparently loan them to great people. :)
I have never met someone who didn't love this book (or cry reading it).
Maybe I'll reread it this week. :)
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Day 22: I wish I was better at...
Day 22: Something I Wish I was Better at
When I was a freshman in college, I took a class called Intro to Fine Arts and Media. It was literally worthless, but it was part of my major. My teacher didn't teach...he told stories or followed bunny trails. We didn't really take tests, and other than one big project, I don't think we had any other assignments. Other than one. We were required to go out and attend a fine art presentation of some sort. We could go to the symphony, ballet, an art museum, or a dozen other things. There were specifications, such as bringing back your admission ticket, or a program.
Being that Karissa (my college roommate) and I were both huge procrastinators, we waited until the very last day before our paper was due, and we went to the Kimball Art Museum in Fort Worth. I know I had been to museums before, but that day, it was like something was awakened inside of me.
The art was beautiful. It was inspiring. I fell in love.
That summer I got the opportunity to go with my parents to Washington DC. If you have ever been there or seen the Smithsonian, you know there is a vast art museum. I was in heaven.
Since 2003, I have been to virtually every major art museum in the country. I've been to the ones in NYC more than once. I want to go to Europe so bad.
When I saw Van Gogh's "Starry Night" at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, I started crying. I was standing in front of one of the most important pieces of art in history. It moves me.
Two of my other two favorite artists are Claude Monet and Wassily Kandinsky:
I have a print of a Kandinsky in my bedroom. I love it. It would be a true dream to own a real one one day.
I mostly love modern and contemporary art. I tend to lean toward impressionism and abstract art. The weirder, the more I'm likely going to like it. I love Picasso's random, seemingly jumbled paintings, as well as the clean lines from Piet Mondrian's paintings.
I love it all.
And I really wish I was better at it. I try my hand at it, and if I really love you, I'll even show you some. But I'm not good. I've had no training. I want training. Maybe I'll take a class, get a degree, you never know with me. ;)
When I was a freshman in college, I took a class called Intro to Fine Arts and Media. It was literally worthless, but it was part of my major. My teacher didn't teach...he told stories or followed bunny trails. We didn't really take tests, and other than one big project, I don't think we had any other assignments. Other than one. We were required to go out and attend a fine art presentation of some sort. We could go to the symphony, ballet, an art museum, or a dozen other things. There were specifications, such as bringing back your admission ticket, or a program.
Being that Karissa (my college roommate) and I were both huge procrastinators, we waited until the very last day before our paper was due, and we went to the Kimball Art Museum in Fort Worth. I know I had been to museums before, but that day, it was like something was awakened inside of me.
The art was beautiful. It was inspiring. I fell in love.
That summer I got the opportunity to go with my parents to Washington DC. If you have ever been there or seen the Smithsonian, you know there is a vast art museum. I was in heaven.
Since 2003, I have been to virtually every major art museum in the country. I've been to the ones in NYC more than once. I want to go to Europe so bad.
When I saw Van Gogh's "Starry Night" at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, I started crying. I was standing in front of one of the most important pieces of art in history. It moves me.
Two of my other two favorite artists are Claude Monet and Wassily Kandinsky:
I have a print of a Kandinsky in my bedroom. I love it. It would be a true dream to own a real one one day.
I mostly love modern and contemporary art. I tend to lean toward impressionism and abstract art. The weirder, the more I'm likely going to like it. I love Picasso's random, seemingly jumbled paintings, as well as the clean lines from Piet Mondrian's paintings.
I love it all.
And I really wish I was better at it. I try my hand at it, and if I really love you, I'll even show you some. But I'm not good. I've had no training. I want training. Maybe I'll take a class, get a degree, you never know with me. ;)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Day 21: I Try to Forget
Day 21- A Picture of Something You Wish You Could Forget
The night I went to the Granada Theater was for a Valentine's Day date 2 years ago. Just know that it was the worst date/day of my life.
Most days I forget about it. On the days I think about it, I passionately thank the Lord that it went so badly. It took that date to wake me up to the fact that I was in a bad relationship. I was justifying it on a daily basis, and it scares me to even think about how long I would have allowed it to continue.
Instead, I was so angry, that there was no turning back. We broke up that night.
I try to forget. And most days I do.
The night I went to the Granada Theater was for a Valentine's Day date 2 years ago. Just know that it was the worst date/day of my life.
Most days I forget about it. On the days I think about it, I passionately thank the Lord that it went so badly. It took that date to wake me up to the fact that I was in a bad relationship. I was justifying it on a daily basis, and it scares me to even think about how long I would have allowed it to continue.
Instead, I was so angry, that there was no turning back. We broke up that night.
I try to forget. And most days I do.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Day 20: Plane ticket, please
Day 20: A Picture of Somewhere You Would Love to Travel
I have a deep love for education. I really don't understand when someone doesn't love school. As long as I can remember, school was facinating to me. I remember a lot about kindergarten- cutting on the lines, story time on the carpet rug, centers. Every year after that was an adventure. In 3rd grade, my reading class did a project on ancient Egyptian culture. We discussed mummification, their many gods, and their way of life. From that moment, I was hooked.
I love studying about Egypt. For my junior year in high school research paper, I wrote about mummification. If you ever want to read it, I have a copy. (I also have a copy of every other paper I ever wrote in college. Yep- I'm a complete nerd.) The first time I saw a real mummy in a museum, I cried. After so many years of learning about them, it was awesome to see one. The Smithsonian in Washington DC has an extensive display of mummies and their coffins. Oh! And in New York City, the Metropolitan Museum of Art has this crazy Egyptian exhibit. You walk in, and it's like you're walking through a pyramid. Lastly, I got to see the King Tut exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art a couple of years ago. Most people can see the whole thing in an hour. Yeah, I emerged after 2 1/2. It's that cool.
So...if I could travel anywhere...it's Cairo, Egypt. I want to see the pyramids, the Great Sphinx, the museums there. I want to ride a camel, and tour their ancient cities.
And I will one day.
I have a deep love for education. I really don't understand when someone doesn't love school. As long as I can remember, school was facinating to me. I remember a lot about kindergarten- cutting on the lines, story time on the carpet rug, centers. Every year after that was an adventure. In 3rd grade, my reading class did a project on ancient Egyptian culture. We discussed mummification, their many gods, and their way of life. From that moment, I was hooked.
I love studying about Egypt. For my junior year in high school research paper, I wrote about mummification. If you ever want to read it, I have a copy. (I also have a copy of every other paper I ever wrote in college. Yep- I'm a complete nerd.) The first time I saw a real mummy in a museum, I cried. After so many years of learning about them, it was awesome to see one. The Smithsonian in Washington DC has an extensive display of mummies and their coffins. Oh! And in New York City, the Metropolitan Museum of Art has this crazy Egyptian exhibit. You walk in, and it's like you're walking through a pyramid. Lastly, I got to see the King Tut exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art a couple of years ago. Most people can see the whole thing in an hour. Yeah, I emerged after 2 1/2. It's that cool.
So...if I could travel anywhere...it's Cairo, Egypt. I want to see the pyramids, the Great Sphinx, the museums there. I want to ride a camel, and tour their ancient cities.
And I will one day.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Day 19: A Letter
Day 19: A Picture and a Letter
Dear Dad,
From an early age, I realized I was the exception. I was one of few other girls who had an amazing, loving, giving, involved father. As I've grown up, I hope I have shown you how much I appreciate your love and involvement in my life.
My most favorite memories involve you. Going camping as a kid, by that little river. Driving through the red wood forests. Helping skin a deer. Learning about sports and how to shoot a gun. Graduating from Master's Commission with you, Mom, and Scott there. Staying at that awesome cabin in Colorado and fishing.
As I grow older, I become more and more appreciative of your commitment to our family. You have been far more than just a present father; you have given your all to us. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for supporting me in every life change (all 1000 of them). Thank you for helping me move a dozen times. Thank you for always believing in me. And thank you for your unending support.
I love you, Dad. :)
Christen
Dear Dad,
From an early age, I realized I was the exception. I was one of few other girls who had an amazing, loving, giving, involved father. As I've grown up, I hope I have shown you how much I appreciate your love and involvement in my life.
My most favorite memories involve you. Going camping as a kid, by that little river. Driving through the red wood forests. Helping skin a deer. Learning about sports and how to shoot a gun. Graduating from Master's Commission with you, Mom, and Scott there. Staying at that awesome cabin in Colorado and fishing.
As I grow older, I become more and more appreciative of your commitment to our family. You have been far more than just a present father; you have given your all to us. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for supporting me in every life change (all 1000 of them). Thank you for helping me move a dozen times. Thank you for always believing in me. And thank you for your unending support.
I love you, Dad. :)
Christen
Friday, March 4, 2011
Day 18: Biggest Insecurity
Day 18: My biggest insecurity
I've waited a week to write this blog because I'm insecure about what I want to say. I tend to say too much in blogs, but I rarely allow the "unlovely" parts of me to come through in my writing. I like to pick and choose my brighter moments to showcase in writing for eternity. Instead, this blog asks for my biggest insecurity. As a woman, I have several. Some are more challenging than others. But I decided to be open and honest.
I have no picture for this blog because I already feel somewhat pathetic just writing about it. If you continue reading past this point, you are not allowed to comment with anything you think will be encouraging, "a word from the Lord," or good advice. Just read it and move on. :)
My biggest insecurity is being single in East Texas at 27.
I put in the qualifying statement of "East Texas" because I know that with the rest of the world, I am completely normal. However, in good ol' East Texas, I might as well be post-menopausal.
Growing up, everyone I knew, my parents, aunts, uncles, friends' parents, all got married in their late teens/early 20's. I have always been an early bloomer and expected to find that special someone at an early age. However, high school passed without anyone that significant; college passed with one broken heart and one short-term relationship. Post-college, I've dated off and on. One guy was extremely promising until he left me for a married woman (not promising, just so you know). And since him, I've been left completely unimpressed.
Each year has ticked by with friend after friend getting married. I am actually at a place now where I am attending far more baby showers than wedding showers. I can count on ONE hand the number of single girl friends I have.
And it's a struggle. Part of me wants to look on the bright side and think that God is saving me for someone extra special. But the other part of me feels like that kid who gets picked last for dodgeball.
It's not just marriage. I know that a marriage will not solve all my problems. It's the companionship. The camaraderie. Having someone to witness my life. Having someone to sit by at Christmas. Someone to come home to after a long day. Let me tell you, coming home to my cat....not exciting.
The reason it's such a big insecurity for me is because other people make such a big deal about it. I can go through a day and think very little about the fact that I'm single. I've never woken up to someone...I don't miss it. I've always had my time to do with as I please. I enjoy watching tv or reading, and just being alone. But when people ask if I'm married, the expression, even if they think they're being sly, is always shock. The people who cannot hide their surprise whatsoever are teenagers. Between my employees and small group kids, I've had 30+ little sets of eyes widen as I explain one more time that no, I'm neither married nor dating anyone.
It's also awkward running into people I grew up with who are on their third child (or divorce...whatever their path may be). Getting to explain that I'm not married or dating and no, I really don't have any kids, well, it's not fun.
It's also weird being this age and single. I don't fit neatly in any category. College age? Nope. Young adults? Barely. Young couples? Nope, nope. And hanging out with married couples is a drag, too. (Sorry to all my married friends.) The world doesn't have a place for late-20's singles.
And if all this isn't enough, some people think it's their God-given talent and PURPOSE to find me "Mr. Right." I really don't love being set up. It's awkward. If you really want me to meet your brother/friend/co-worker/nephew/cousin-twice-removed, find a way for us to be in the same room without telling us we're being set up. If there's a spark, we're old enough to figure it out. ;)
So, why do I tell you all this? Because the blog-a-thon demanded it. It's relentless. And because I figure this blog is about me, and this is a huge part of my life. I have somehow managed to make it through 12 years of dating without growing resentful. It is what it is. And I'm still optimistic.
Maybe 2011 will be my year. Maybe not. Either way, I continue on this path that is my life. The one God intended.
I've waited a week to write this blog because I'm insecure about what I want to say. I tend to say too much in blogs, but I rarely allow the "unlovely" parts of me to come through in my writing. I like to pick and choose my brighter moments to showcase in writing for eternity. Instead, this blog asks for my biggest insecurity. As a woman, I have several. Some are more challenging than others. But I decided to be open and honest.
I have no picture for this blog because I already feel somewhat pathetic just writing about it. If you continue reading past this point, you are not allowed to comment with anything you think will be encouraging, "a word from the Lord," or good advice. Just read it and move on. :)
My biggest insecurity is being single in East Texas at 27.
I put in the qualifying statement of "East Texas" because I know that with the rest of the world, I am completely normal. However, in good ol' East Texas, I might as well be post-menopausal.
Growing up, everyone I knew, my parents, aunts, uncles, friends' parents, all got married in their late teens/early 20's. I have always been an early bloomer and expected to find that special someone at an early age. However, high school passed without anyone that significant; college passed with one broken heart and one short-term relationship. Post-college, I've dated off and on. One guy was extremely promising until he left me for a married woman (not promising, just so you know). And since him, I've been left completely unimpressed.
Each year has ticked by with friend after friend getting married. I am actually at a place now where I am attending far more baby showers than wedding showers. I can count on ONE hand the number of single girl friends I have.
And it's a struggle. Part of me wants to look on the bright side and think that God is saving me for someone extra special. But the other part of me feels like that kid who gets picked last for dodgeball.
It's not just marriage. I know that a marriage will not solve all my problems. It's the companionship. The camaraderie. Having someone to witness my life. Having someone to sit by at Christmas. Someone to come home to after a long day. Let me tell you, coming home to my cat....not exciting.
The reason it's such a big insecurity for me is because other people make such a big deal about it. I can go through a day and think very little about the fact that I'm single. I've never woken up to someone...I don't miss it. I've always had my time to do with as I please. I enjoy watching tv or reading, and just being alone. But when people ask if I'm married, the expression, even if they think they're being sly, is always shock. The people who cannot hide their surprise whatsoever are teenagers. Between my employees and small group kids, I've had 30+ little sets of eyes widen as I explain one more time that no, I'm neither married nor dating anyone.
It's also awkward running into people I grew up with who are on their third child (or divorce...whatever their path may be). Getting to explain that I'm not married or dating and no, I really don't have any kids, well, it's not fun.
It's also weird being this age and single. I don't fit neatly in any category. College age? Nope. Young adults? Barely. Young couples? Nope, nope. And hanging out with married couples is a drag, too. (Sorry to all my married friends.) The world doesn't have a place for late-20's singles.
And if all this isn't enough, some people think it's their God-given talent and PURPOSE to find me "Mr. Right." I really don't love being set up. It's awkward. If you really want me to meet your brother/friend/co-worker/nephew/cousin-twice-removed, find a way for us to be in the same room without telling us we're being set up. If there's a spark, we're old enough to figure it out. ;)
So, why do I tell you all this? Because the blog-a-thon demanded it. It's relentless. And because I figure this blog is about me, and this is a huge part of my life. I have somehow managed to make it through 12 years of dating without growing resentful. It is what it is. And I'm still optimistic.
Maybe 2011 will be my year. Maybe not. Either way, I continue on this path that is my life. The one God intended.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Day 17: Huge Impact
Day 17: A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently
I guess my procrastination has paid off. I have big news and wanted to share, but I hated to interrupt this blog-a-thon. So, I was pleased to find out Day 17 was a chance to share about my recent life-changing event.
I work here:
Here's a little history:
In 1999, as my 16th birthday was quickly approaching, I knew I wanted a part-time job. My parents were generous, but I wanted freedom, dangit! A lady at church recommended that I apply at Chick-fil-A, but I went ahead and applied at several places. Chick-fil-A was the first place to call me. I remember exactly what I was wearing: black flowy pants, a white button down, and my platform black flipflops. I interviewed with Shane, and soon after had my first official (legal) job.**
I have so many memories of working there in high school. I tell my night time kids all the time to treasure their time at CFA because I am still friends with so many former co-workers. Just this week, I've had lunch with 2 of them, Emily and Reggie, and had a chance to see Brandon. I talk to Ikey pretty often, too. Those were 2 1/2 great years!
I moved home in 2009 to go back to school. I thought college degree + job experience would equal a fantastic job. I never thought twice about having a problem finding a job. Instead, I applied at 20+ establishments. 25 resumes, 2 awful interviews, and 3 months of zero income later...I called an old CFA friend. He said they were always looking for good workers.
With my tail figuratively between my legs, I went and applied. I wasn't 16. I was 25. I had graduated from a 4-year university, flown to dozens of countries in the world as a flight attendent, and assisted in the education process of 120 bright and up-and-coming young minds. But the truth was, our economy was in a downward spiral, and I was over-qualified for part-time jobs. No one wanted to hire me, just to see me leave in 6 months.
Thankfully, Chick-fil-A was willing to deal with me. After eating a big ol' slice of humble pie, I suited up: uniform shirt, pants, and visor. I grabbed a rag and cleaned tables, chairs, puke off the floor, and dirt off the playground. I refilled drinks and filled orders. And at the end of the day, I got my paycheck and thanked the good Lord for giving me a job.
After almost a year, I was offered a job as the assistant manager. This confident, self-proclaimed "over-qualified" woman was terrified! I was good at cleaning. I was good at taking orders. But being in charge of people? And making sure that a shift runs smoothly? And making the weekly schedule??? I was scared to death!
After much debating and prayer, I accepted the position. It meant quitting school. It meant moving to nights. It meant giving up a chunk of my social life. But it also gave me the opportunity to grow in areas I have never been stretched: like conflict resolution and personnel management. It also meant getting to work with some of the greatest young people I could ever know. I love my night time kids. They are a huge joy! And yeah, I haven't been on a date in months, and I rarely get an evening to myself, but I get to have lunch dates with old friends. And I get to sleep late. :)
The Lord has opened a new, scary, exciting door. (And the point of this blog.)
As of March 1, I will be the store manager of the East Longview Chick-fil-A!
I am beyond humbled. I feel so honored to be thought able to do this job. My bosses see things in me that I've never seen. I am so grateful that they are willing to teach me and cultivate me. I have great, huge things to learn, yet I'm willing. I have no idea what the road ahead looks like, but I'm here for some reason.
I've trusted God to lead my path my entire life. Never before, like now, have doors swung open without my knowledge. I never sought these positions. I have no idea how I got here. But I'm here. And I'm going to take every moment as a lesson. Every moment as an opportunity. God has me here for something, and I'm ready to take it head on.
Thank you to my wonderful bosses, Chuck and Shane, for believing in me. I hope to live up to your expectations. I will try every day.
Much love.
**Prior to Chick-fil-A, I worked at a tanning salon and a golf course restaurant. Both jobs paid me cash, i.e. not legal.**
I guess my procrastination has paid off. I have big news and wanted to share, but I hated to interrupt this blog-a-thon. So, I was pleased to find out Day 17 was a chance to share about my recent life-changing event.
I work here:
Here's a little history:
In 1999, as my 16th birthday was quickly approaching, I knew I wanted a part-time job. My parents were generous, but I wanted freedom, dangit! A lady at church recommended that I apply at Chick-fil-A, but I went ahead and applied at several places. Chick-fil-A was the first place to call me. I remember exactly what I was wearing: black flowy pants, a white button down, and my platform black flipflops. I interviewed with Shane, and soon after had my first official (legal) job.**
I have so many memories of working there in high school. I tell my night time kids all the time to treasure their time at CFA because I am still friends with so many former co-workers. Just this week, I've had lunch with 2 of them, Emily and Reggie, and had a chance to see Brandon. I talk to Ikey pretty often, too. Those were 2 1/2 great years!
I moved home in 2009 to go back to school. I thought college degree + job experience would equal a fantastic job. I never thought twice about having a problem finding a job. Instead, I applied at 20+ establishments. 25 resumes, 2 awful interviews, and 3 months of zero income later...I called an old CFA friend. He said they were always looking for good workers.
With my tail figuratively between my legs, I went and applied. I wasn't 16. I was 25. I had graduated from a 4-year university, flown to dozens of countries in the world as a flight attendent, and assisted in the education process of 120 bright and up-and-coming young minds. But the truth was, our economy was in a downward spiral, and I was over-qualified for part-time jobs. No one wanted to hire me, just to see me leave in 6 months.
Thankfully, Chick-fil-A was willing to deal with me. After eating a big ol' slice of humble pie, I suited up: uniform shirt, pants, and visor. I grabbed a rag and cleaned tables, chairs, puke off the floor, and dirt off the playground. I refilled drinks and filled orders. And at the end of the day, I got my paycheck and thanked the good Lord for giving me a job.
After almost a year, I was offered a job as the assistant manager. This confident, self-proclaimed "over-qualified" woman was terrified! I was good at cleaning. I was good at taking orders. But being in charge of people? And making sure that a shift runs smoothly? And making the weekly schedule??? I was scared to death!
After much debating and prayer, I accepted the position. It meant quitting school. It meant moving to nights. It meant giving up a chunk of my social life. But it also gave me the opportunity to grow in areas I have never been stretched: like conflict resolution and personnel management. It also meant getting to work with some of the greatest young people I could ever know. I love my night time kids. They are a huge joy! And yeah, I haven't been on a date in months, and I rarely get an evening to myself, but I get to have lunch dates with old friends. And I get to sleep late. :)
The Lord has opened a new, scary, exciting door. (And the point of this blog.)
As of March 1, I will be the store manager of the East Longview Chick-fil-A!
I am beyond humbled. I feel so honored to be thought able to do this job. My bosses see things in me that I've never seen. I am so grateful that they are willing to teach me and cultivate me. I have great, huge things to learn, yet I'm willing. I have no idea what the road ahead looks like, but I'm here for some reason.
I've trusted God to lead my path my entire life. Never before, like now, have doors swung open without my knowledge. I never sought these positions. I have no idea how I got here. But I'm here. And I'm going to take every moment as a lesson. Every moment as an opportunity. God has me here for something, and I'm ready to take it head on.
Thank you to my wonderful bosses, Chuck and Shane, for believing in me. I hope to live up to your expectations. I will try every day.
Much love.
**Prior to Chick-fil-A, I worked at a tanning salon and a golf course restaurant. Both jobs paid me cash, i.e. not legal.**
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Day 16: Pure Inspiration
I'm sorry I'm a bit behind on these 30 days. I'm not giving up...just have a lot on my mind right now, and it's hard to be creative.
Day 16: Someone Who Inspires You
I didn't have to think twice about who I would say inspires me. I think anyone who knows my mother would tell you she is inspirational.
Obviously I have known my mother for 27 years. However, I don't think I really got to know her until I was in college. When I left for school, she did her best to give me my space. She rarely called, but I found myself calling her. By my senior year in college, I called her every day. Even now, living in the same town, I call her every day. At 27 years old, I need to know her opinion on things. I need to tell her the latest news. She's the best friend a daughter could ever ask for.
My mother is a quiet force. She doesn't get easily excited or angry. I have heard her raise her voice probably a grand total of 5 times in my life. (Those are scary moments, by the way.) Mom conveys her frustration, disappointment, or impatience with a look. She enjoys being with her family and finds joy in taking care of them (and me). I know she loves being a mother, but she is thriving being a grandmother. Watching her with Eli and Joe is very special. I can't wait to see her someday with my kids.
Mom runs a tight ship. Everything has a place and will be in its place before she leaves the house. She's the most organized and efficient person I know. If you need organizational skills, spend one day with her. Even her sugar and flour are organized. She may not be a chef, but she's a good cook. Family dinners, whether at home or a restaurant, are important. I never remember eating dinner in the living room or in front of the tv. We eat together, at the table, with conversation.
My mom loves the Lord with all of her heart. She wakes before anyone else in the family to read the Bible. She prayed with us every night as little kids. And now, as adults, she engages us in spiritual conversation. My mom fasted when I was in a bad relationship. She prays for me when I'm going through tough times. I know she always has my back.
Mom is inspirational because she makes me want to be a better woman. I know how to keep a clean house because she taught me to sweep and dust, and how you don't need Windex to clean a mirror. I organize things, and alphabetize papers, because I know she would, too.
And someday, when it's the right time, I know I will be a good, loving wife, because all I have ever seen from my mom is how to be a faithful, loving, encouraging wife. And I know I will be a good mother, because the Lord could not have given me a better motherly example. I feel prepared for the world because I am walking in the foot steps of my mother.
I love you, Mom.
Day 16: Someone Who Inspires You
I didn't have to think twice about who I would say inspires me. I think anyone who knows my mother would tell you she is inspirational.
Obviously I have known my mother for 27 years. However, I don't think I really got to know her until I was in college. When I left for school, she did her best to give me my space. She rarely called, but I found myself calling her. By my senior year in college, I called her every day. Even now, living in the same town, I call her every day. At 27 years old, I need to know her opinion on things. I need to tell her the latest news. She's the best friend a daughter could ever ask for.
My mother is a quiet force. She doesn't get easily excited or angry. I have heard her raise her voice probably a grand total of 5 times in my life. (Those are scary moments, by the way.) Mom conveys her frustration, disappointment, or impatience with a look. She enjoys being with her family and finds joy in taking care of them (and me). I know she loves being a mother, but she is thriving being a grandmother. Watching her with Eli and Joe is very special. I can't wait to see her someday with my kids.
Mom runs a tight ship. Everything has a place and will be in its place before she leaves the house. She's the most organized and efficient person I know. If you need organizational skills, spend one day with her. Even her sugar and flour are organized. She may not be a chef, but she's a good cook. Family dinners, whether at home or a restaurant, are important. I never remember eating dinner in the living room or in front of the tv. We eat together, at the table, with conversation.
My mom loves the Lord with all of her heart. She wakes before anyone else in the family to read the Bible. She prayed with us every night as little kids. And now, as adults, she engages us in spiritual conversation. My mom fasted when I was in a bad relationship. She prays for me when I'm going through tough times. I know she always has my back.
Mom is inspirational because she makes me want to be a better woman. I know how to keep a clean house because she taught me to sweep and dust, and how you don't need Windex to clean a mirror. I organize things, and alphabetize papers, because I know she would, too.
And someday, when it's the right time, I know I will be a good, loving wife, because all I have ever seen from my mom is how to be a faithful, loving, encouraging wife. And I know I will be a good mother, because the Lord could not have given me a better motherly example. I feel prepared for the world because I am walking in the foot steps of my mother.
I love you, Mom.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Day 15: Before I Die...
Day 15: A Picture of Something You Want to Do Before You Die
I am an adrenaline junky. I watch scary movies. I ride the tallest roller-coasters. I strive to be a paramedic one day so that when that alarm goes off and the ambulance races off for the unknown emergency, I'll be there, first on the scene.
There are a LOT of things I want to do before I die, but this is probably #1.
Someday. Hopefully soon.
I am an adrenaline junky. I watch scary movies. I ride the tallest roller-coasters. I strive to be a paramedic one day so that when that alarm goes off and the ambulance races off for the unknown emergency, I'll be there, first on the scene.
There are a LOT of things I want to do before I die, but this is probably #1.
Someday. Hopefully soon.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Day 14: I Cannot Imagine Life Without...
Day 14: Someone You Cannot Imagine Your Life Without
I will never forget the stories Mark told about Sheila Suede when I was in high school. She was this mystery girl with a boyfriend, whom Mark could not get past. Every story somehow looped back to her. It was this amazing coincidence when they led a mission trip together. Sheila, Sheila, Sheila.
The summer after my senior year in high school, a couple of months after Sheila and her boyfriend had broken up, my family was in DFW for a pastor's conference. Mark had schemed a way to hang out with Sheila one night. After several hours, we all went to bed. However, in the middle of the night, my giddy older brother came busting into the hotel room proclaiming he had kissed her.
The rest is pretty much history.
I didn't get to know Sheila for a while. She lived in another city, and after they got married, they moved to Oklahoma City. I soon after left for Illinois. But in time, I got to know her.
And I cannot imagine my life without her.
Sheila is both beautiful inside and out. She's so little and cute, you kinda just want to stick her in your pocket and carry her around. She cares about people so much. Her kids are smart and well behaved because she showed them how. She loves her friends and serves everyone. All the time.
Sheila's funny and forgetful, and she crumbles pieces of paper. She loves high heels and has this amazing talent for crafts, like painting and sewing. She might possibly be a ninja, though of course she would never tell. I've seen her pluck mosquitos out of the air in midflight. She makes everyone in her presence feel like a million bucks.
And she's also the most humble person I know. She's probably reading this and saying, "Oh I'm not that good at painting" or "sewing" or whatever. Sheila- you are. :)
I cannot imagine my family without her. I cannot imagine any other female on earth being my sister-in-law. I'm glad to finally have a sister. She truly is my sister.
I love you, Sheila.
I will never forget the stories Mark told about Sheila Suede when I was in high school. She was this mystery girl with a boyfriend, whom Mark could not get past. Every story somehow looped back to her. It was this amazing coincidence when they led a mission trip together. Sheila, Sheila, Sheila.
The summer after my senior year in high school, a couple of months after Sheila and her boyfriend had broken up, my family was in DFW for a pastor's conference. Mark had schemed a way to hang out with Sheila one night. After several hours, we all went to bed. However, in the middle of the night, my giddy older brother came busting into the hotel room proclaiming he had kissed her.
The rest is pretty much history.
I didn't get to know Sheila for a while. She lived in another city, and after they got married, they moved to Oklahoma City. I soon after left for Illinois. But in time, I got to know her.
And I cannot imagine my life without her.
Sheila is both beautiful inside and out. She's so little and cute, you kinda just want to stick her in your pocket and carry her around. She cares about people so much. Her kids are smart and well behaved because she showed them how. She loves her friends and serves everyone. All the time.
Sheila's funny and forgetful, and she crumbles pieces of paper. She loves high heels and has this amazing talent for crafts, like painting and sewing. She might possibly be a ninja, though of course she would never tell. I've seen her pluck mosquitos out of the air in midflight. She makes everyone in her presence feel like a million bucks.
And she's also the most humble person I know. She's probably reading this and saying, "Oh I'm not that good at painting" or "sewing" or whatever. Sheila- you are. :)
I cannot imagine my family without her. I cannot imagine any other female on earth being my sister-in-law. I'm glad to finally have a sister. She truly is my sister.
I love you, Sheila.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)