So in 2009 our high school youth group went on a mission trip to a children's ranch in Idaho. Suuuper, super fun, great time. God did cool things :) Anyways, one afternoon, after the work day had ended, I came down from the girls' room and sat down at a table where my friend, Brandon, and one of the kids from the ranch were sitting. The usual pleasantries and small talk ensued, but then a long silence came. I'm not sure if this next part was to end the long silence, or because he had been wanting to ask me and this seemed like the best moment, but the kid from the ranch looks at me, and like a knife slices through butter, he breaks the silence by, in all seriousness, asking me, "Are you an albino?". I didn't really know how to respond, but I'm pretty sure there was laughter. Brandon was cracking up - he answered the question for me by saying, "No she's just REEEAALLY white. If she were an albino her eyes would be pink". Pretty much the only way you could tell I wasn't albino apparently. Which I guess kind of makes sense; I wasn't as tan back then as I am now. Which... I'm not tan now, so. . . yeah.
And that's the story of how I was so white that someone thought I was an albino.
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“He (God) holds back nothing that will heal you, even if that’s His own Son.” – Promises, Sanctus Real It got me thinking: so often when I hear the word “healing” I think of freedom from sickness; freedom from pain. Having the heavy things in life that seem to have overtaken us fixed – to become healthy again. For me personally, when I hear that word, I think of what I’ve faced/still face: being healed from depression, what it would be like to not have any chronic pain anymore, and what it would be like to be free from all food restrictions. Then I started thinking: maybe my definition of healing is skewed. Yes, it does mean to become healthy again. But perhaps I was putting that in a box. Perhaps it means more than just physical healing. I mean, I know it means more than just physical healing. Like with depression or anxiety, for instance. And I know that God has a reason in everything. I know that full-well. I know that He’s done some incredible growth, strengthening, and shaping through the spiritual warfare, chronic pain, and food sensitivities that I’ve dealt/deal with. But I never really looked at it as healing – until now, that is. Like with my food sensitivities. For various reasons I can’t eat gluten, casein, soy, nightshades, sugar, sugar substitutes, caffeine, beef, pork, nuts, or eggs (and there used to be more). And if I do eat any of that stuff, depending on what it is, I get nauseous, diarrhea & vomiting happens, hot sweats, uncontrollable shakiness, mass fatigue, aching, dizziness, and brain fog that can last up to 6 weeks. Doesn’t really sound like healing. But when I actually thought about it in that context, it totally is a form of healing. God’s been healing me of impatience, distrust, and a lack of self-control (amongst MANY other things) through all of that. With the chronic pain He’s been able to help heal me of my pride, selfishness, and impatience. And I could go on. Not only does He use that stuff to produce growth, but He also uses it to provide healing for things that are far more important than being physical fit. I absolutely love that He uses hard & painful situations to produce such greatness. That, my friends, is a God who cares :)
I have a lot of spider stories. I don't like spiders, btw. Mainly he big ones, which our house seems to only have. The little suckers always seem to tell when I'm alone. This time though is probably the longest spider encounter I had to endure - and probably the most comical, looking back on it.
It was late, somewhere between 11:40PM & 12:30AM. I was in my room, getting ready for bed, when I remembered that I had done my laundry earlier that day and my blankies were in the dryer (don't judge). I was also pretty hungry, as I always am at night. . . or ever, really. I left my room, walked down the hallway, and entered the kitchen when this HUGE spider pops out from under the shelf unit - right in between me and the laundry room door. At this point everyone in my house was asleep, so I didn't overdramatize things by yelling, but I definitely gasped/squeaked inside when I saw it. I had seen it earlier that day run under the shelf unit, and I guess just assumed that it was gone. It wasn't. It was standing right there, right in between me and my blankies. Naturally, this meant war. I flew back to my room, arming myself with my Nerf gun (which makes excellent spider killers). I then went into the living room and dawned my boots, just in case any stomping action was needed, and to maintain extra leg coverage. So there I stood at the edge of the kitchen: boots, bathrobe, and a Nerf gun, ready to kill this massive beast and save my blankies, and then celebrate with a feast of champions. Needless to say, it didn't work out that way. I fired the first shot and hit him, dead on. But it wouldn't DIE. I hit it again, and again. I swear the stupid thing was made out of titanium! And worst than that, I made it REALLY upset, and it CHARGED AT ME! I was not expecting this. I ran across the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter, and it followed me! This was no ordinary spider, folks. Normally the "big" spider we get around here have quarter sized bodies and some long legs to go with it. This thing was almost the size of my hand, I kid you not. And while I may not have the biggest hand, let's keep things in perspective here: spiders aren't supposed to be that big - especially ones in your house that are trying to KILL you. Anyways, so I'm up on that counter, right? And that thing is just waiting below for me. It ducked under the counter ledge so I couldn't see it anymore. . . which was WORST. I had no phone, my family was asleep, and my typical weapon of choice was useless against this beast. So I stood there on the counter. For like, 20-40 minutes. Helplessly calling out to my family to come save me. . . and no one came. Finally, out of pure desperation (I think I might have really needed to pee at that point. Let's be real, spiders that big scaring you & charging at you? It gets the bladder going), and somewhat frustration and really just wanting to go to bed, I did a flying leap of of the counter, flinging myself as far away from that wretched creature as possible, and I bolted out of the kitchen like The Flash. After I relieved myself, my stubbornness & gumption decided to make a baby named courage, and I bolted across the kitchen as fast as I could, flung the laundry room door open, left it open so that if the beast returned once more my cat would be able to get it, and I retrieved my blankies from the dryer. A true victory indeed. And then I went to bed hungry, because the stupid spider was still looming somewhere in the kitchen. I wrote a note, and I went to bed. The next morning I awoke, went to the bathroom, and then grudgingly went out to the kitchen, where my dad (Ada) was. I asked him without much hope if he happened to have seen the spider, and to my surprise he said yes, and he had killed it. HUZZAH!!! One of the best parts of all this? The day before, when I told my mum how big it was, she didn't believe me. She thought I was exaggerating. The next morning, after Ada had killed it, apparently she had seen it before he flushed it. She told me that she didn't think it was a spider at first because it was so large - even when shriveled up (which, btw, is one of the most annoying things about spiders. They look so tiny . . right after you're freaking out about how big they were. They definitely have the last laugh. . .), and then she realized that I wasn't exaggerating and it really was that freakin' big. Ha! Win. And that, my friends, is my story. All of which is true. So I'm standing in one of the aisles at work, one visible from the outside through the window, talking to God. I do it pretty often. No big deal, right? Nothing out of the ordinary. I realized a guy hanging outside with his bike, just chillin there, probably waiting for someone, for like 10+ minutes. It was then that I realized noticed how crazy I looked. See now, I don't just talk to God. We have two-sided conversations. We exchange looks, He makes me laugh, etc. People watching me don't know these things. So while I'm standing there having a perfectly normal, expressive conversation with God, what others see is anything BUT normal. I'm guessing they see a spastic, psychotic, little twig of a girl, whose gone straight up cray. I paused the current conversation He & I were having when I realized that. ". . . I look really ridiculous right now, Lord." *pause* "Screw it. I don't care if I look cray when I'm talking with you. Ha, 'watch me hit the cray button!'" . . . . . You ain't seen nothing, we about to go cray!It was then that one of my favorite songs took on a whole new meaning. Now, instead of it just being about being awesome, crazy, hyper, and spastic, it was talking also about being undignified for Christ. Cray, if you will. Not just being crazy awesome for Jesus, but really being crazy FOR Him - crazy as the world see's it, at least. Doing things that seem completely ridiculous & cray to others, simply because Christ tells us to. Whenever I think of being "undignified" (or cray) for Jesus, I think of being outrageous, loud, and goofy. I also think of two people dressed somewhat like clowns while standing on a street corner holding up a sign that says "Honk if you love Jesus", but that's for another reason. But it's sooooo much greater than that little mindset of mine. Being undignified (cray!) for Jesus isn't just acting crazy, it's about DOING things that are crazy - or seemingly crazy to others. Things like speaking His name publicly, befriending the socially awkward kid, lifting your hands in worship, dancing for joy in His name, putting others before yourself. Taking on the characteristics of Christ and living the way He did; not for people, but for God. 'Tis like what Paul says in Galatians 1:10 "Obviously, I'm not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ's servant." (NLT) I'm pretty excited to let God change the way I think about that. Also excited for more opportunities to get cray for that guy! WATCH ME HIT THE CRAY BUTTON!
I love my sisters. Like, a lot. Though we are very different, and we all had very different schedules. It was always lovely when we all could spend time together, though, There are several times when this happened, mostly late at night in Dewie's room. But there was one time that stands out above all the rest for me.
We have this thing, Abi, Dewie, and I. And that thing is none other than Mary-Kate & Ashley movies. We loved to watch their movies.show and just laugh at how INCREDIBLY cheesy they are. That's what we would do for our super-special-sister-dates. No shame. This particular time was just wonderful. It was before all of the food stuff was discovered, so we all went to the store and bought Sobe's (Pina Colada) and candy (sour gummy worms), and then we returned to the house, all congregated in my room, partook of our delicious snacks, and watched. . . I'm not actually sure which ones we watched. Though I'm pretty sure it was Winning London, and possibly Getting There. Anyways, it was just lovely; watching ridiculous movies, eating junk food, laughing, snorting, and just being able to spend time together :) If nothing else, read this. Recently I've had comments made about my Celiac Disease & rotational scoliosis, and being healed from them. It's not the first time I've had someone try to convince me to go somewhere/do something to be healed - though this time it was said that my Celiac Disease is from self hatred and my rotational scoliosis is an evil spirit. Never got that in the past. I appreciate the intentions behind the suggestions, but I'll be honest, it really peeved me off that someone that I don't know, nor do they know me, tried to tell me something like that. Believe it or not, I've talked to God about these subjects before - many times, in fact. And while I'm by no means all-knowing about such things - or anything else for that matter - God has given me some insight on the matters that I deal with each day. Here is my response on the matter: I've prayed A LOT about my physical issues for the past 4 years, and I don't believe that's what it is. I know that God has every capability of healing me, but I don't believe that's what He has planned for me. At least not for a while. All glory to God, yo. Soo. . . I have this awesome cousin. I call her Dewie. She's really more of a sister though, as she lived with us for 5 years while she went to college. There will probably be many TBT posts with her in them. Starting with this one: 'Tis a rather short memory, and there's no way that I could interpret just how glorious of a moment it really was, but I shall do my best I suppose. We have a thing for Disney songs. And she has a deep love for The Lion King. And one afternoon, I'm not entirely sure how it started, but we put on some of that Disney music and were dancing around the house to it. We kinda danced around to a few songs I do believe, and then Hakuna Matata came on. And without saying a word, and with the sincerity of Broadway dancers/singers, we strut & flailed through the house, interpretive dancing and belting it out like fools. The most memorable time of this for me was when the instrumental part came on, the time in the movie when Timon, Pumba, and Simba are walking across a fallen log, flipping their heads from side to side, and Simba is growing before our very eyes. During that part, Dewie & I walked up & down the house, throwing our heads back & forth, nearly falling over from the force of it. Much laughter ensued during and after that. One of my favorite Disney moments with that girl. |
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