Your love, oh Lord, reaches to the heavens...

Wow, it has been an awful long time since I blogged on this blog. I have occasionally posted some blogs on my Bebo page, but I do miss this one. So I'm bringing it back from the dead and seeing what comes out of it.

Rereading things I've written in the past on this blog has been a really interesting experience. Things do get crazy sometimes, don't they? And I am one of those people who only ever gets introspective when things really, truly go wrong. Which is not the best habit in the world, especially since it so often is in direct parallel to how I deal with God. I have to confess that over the past few months, God has not been my focus. I've just been trying to survive. Things have been insanely busy, I've had highs, I've had lows and it's all been a little much. Yet it's not all that often that I call upon God and I ask for His help. You see, I like being strong, I like being in control of things. I'm not always, though. And I have to confess also that when things do fall apart, I'm not always running to God, I'm running to other people and that isn't fair on anyone. May I remember to go to God with the things that suck and may I remember that in all things God works for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).

One of the hardest things for me to understand and get my head around is the love of God because it just doesn't seem to make all that much sense. The lengths that He went to in order that we might be able to have a relationship with Him are, quite simply, amazing. Incredible. I've been reading "He Chose The Nails" by Max Lucado and one of the things that struck me is that Jesus' flesh was torn, like the curtain that seperated us from the Holy of Holys, so that we could have access to God. In another book I was reading, "Chasing God, Serving Man" by Tommy Tenney, the author was talking about how he was staying in a hotel where they'd put his wife and kids in an adjoining room that wasn't connected, meaning he was seperated from his wife and kids by a wall. It really frustrated him and he mentions it in this book as a bit of food for thought: how much must God hate the things that seperate us from Him? And then going on to think about this - God has sent His son to bridge the gap between me and God, yet there are still things that seperate me from God. And He hates those things! He really does. Whatever they are, be they my insecurities, my stubbornness in trying to sort things out on my own, the secret sins I'm still clinging on to, He hates them. But all He wants is for me to let Him rip through them, let Him sort them out.

When we were kids, our parents had this van and it had a cigarette lighter in the back seat. We knew we weren't supposed to touch it but it looked pretty inviting. It looks kind of like a stamp, if you think about it. Anyway, my sister, who was about 3 at the time, obviously assumed that it was a stamp, and "stamped" her hand. A cigarette lighter is not a stamp. It's hot. Hot enough to light a cigarette. So obviously, when she stamped her hand with the cigarette lighter, it burned her. And it hurt. Like crazy, probably. The thing is, Char knew she wasn't supposed to touch it and was afraid that Mum and Dad would get mad if they knew she had. So instead of saying what she'd done, she hid it. We were on a relatively long drive at the time and it was a very long time before Mum and Dad found out that Char had burned her hand. She didn't say anything, she just cried. I think her crying managed to con me out of my bag of chocolate fish cos I felt sorry for her. Still, no one had any idea why she was crying, until we had arrived at our destination.

Mum always says how horrible she felt when she saw Char's hand. It was a pretty big burn for such a little girl. It had been a few hours since it was burned and the thing about burns is that if you don't treat them properly, they will continue to burn for a pretty long time. So by the time we saw her hand it was a bit of a mess. I was just a youngun at the time but I do remember Dad taking Char's little hand in his and just loving her, looking after her burn. He didn't really say all that much about how she shouldn't have been playing with the cigarette lighter. That wasn't important anymore. What was important was that his little girl was hurt. Once she'd figured out that Dad wasn't mad, everything was so much better and she had a nice long cuddle. Dad bandaged up Char's hand and it took a pretty long time for her hand to heal up and it was no doubt very, very sore for a very, very long time. We have video footage of her whole hand, all wrapped up. She did it pretty good.

I think about this and think about me and God. Things go wrong, sin comes into my life and instead of telling my Heavenly Father, I just let it fester and it keeps burning, until finally I can't stand it anymore and have to run to Him because it just hurts so much. That's when I let Him love me. When I'm hurting so badly there's nothing else to do. The thing that I need to remind myself is that I can do that, that God won't be mad when I tell Him I've screwed up and He'll let me crawl onto His lap if I just take the initiative. I'm not good at resting in His presence but I want to be. I think it's just going to take a bit of practice.

(We did take the cigarette lighter out of the car, by the way, which, in retrospect, may have been a good idea to do in the first place, cos no one we know smokes anyway. We also found a much better use for the cigarette lighter. You can plug one of those chilly bin things into it. It's good stuff, especially when you're transporting cheese or something along those lines. We do like our picnics in our family. And fifteen years later, Char's hand is fine. No scars or anything. She turned out alright otherwise, too.)

This whole thing about resting in God's presence... I think I've figured something else out about it. 1 Thessalonians 5:16 - Be joyful always. Now, there's a big difference between being happy and being joyful. To quote Switchfoot, "happy is a yuppie word". Joy, on the other hand, is something completely different. We've been studying 1 Peter in my LTG (Life Transformation Group, basically a bible study I'm involved in with Student Life) and I really like how the New Living Translation describes joy. Here's the thing in context...

So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. The reward for trusting him will be the salvation of your souls. 1 Peter 1:6-9

Rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. Cool, huh? I like it. I like it a lot. And note how this is in the context of enduring trials? There is wonderful joy ahead. Be glad. Even though there now are trials, you can trust Jesus Christ, and rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. That definitely inspires me to keep pressing on and fighting the good fight. But it especially inspires me to fight for joy! Because joy is awesome, and rejoicing with a glorious, inexpressible joy is something God gives us the ability to do. So I am going to make it my mission to rejoice. Always. Be joyful. Always. Worship God. Praise God for who He is. Be joyful. Being joyful may not equal being happy, but it's better. It is just so much better.

Better leave it here and get some sleep. I'll be blogging here more often. My heart feels like it's softer, somehow, and it makes me sad to realise I hadn't realised I'd hardened it. Joy softens your heart. God softens your heart. Makes you vulnerable. Makes you admit that you can't do everything all alone. That you need help. That's scary. Really scary. But in it... there's joy. Glorious, inexpressible joy.

Rosie
rejoicing always

NaNoWriMo

I'm CRAZY and signed up for this -> http://www.nanowrimo.org ! ! !

Let's see how I go...

Rosie

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be...

Been awhile since I blogged, hasn't it? Hmm. I guess I've been doing other things. A whole trimester has gone by! I've survived, as you do. I'm never particularly good at keeping up with everything, I tend to let time slip away on me but then again, it's not as if I have anything that exciting to say anyway. I don't think anyone really reads my blog but it's almost good just to be able to look back on my ramblings and think "hmm, I was really a complete pyschopath that day". It allows me to take precautionary measures to ensure that nothing like that ever happens again. You know, things like never leaving the house, never talking to anyone, cutting down my caffiene intake and actually sleeping at night. Those are good precautionary measures, though all entirely overrated activities. I'll just stick with being a nutcase.

So yeah. We had New Zeal this weekend. It really was great. It was a good weekend, the speaking was great, I got a grand total of 71 pages of notes. My sister then informed me that they were, for the most part, completely irrelevant. Is it completely terrible to occasionally dislike my sister? I just find her terribly condescending sometimes. This whole God thing comes so much easier to her, she's so much better at being a Christian and not a raving lunatic that sometimes I am just so insanely jealous and would really like to throw her out of a tall building. Well, I'd make sure there was a massive as trampoline or one of those cool spongy things you use in PE underneath the really tall building before I actually threw her, she is my sister. And I do like her. I think I would probably like her if she weren't my sister. Maybe more than I do now, even. How did this end up as a rant about my sister? For the record, my sister is lovely. She's a lovely, well put together, smart, beautiful young lady and really has the whole relationship with God thing down pat.

I occasionally feel like her antithesis. I have come to the conclusion recently that sometimes I am not very nice to the people around me, I'm not very organised, I do incredibly stupid things and I really have no idea what I'm doing with anything. To be perfectly blunt, things are not good for me right now. There is no real reason why things are not good with me right now - after all, the main cause of stress in my life affects the rest of my family possibly more than it affects me. My dad is sick. It's not life threatening or anything, it's just debilitating and frustrating because it's been going on forever and it's really changed things in the family. Things are actually on the up at the moment. Dad's still up and down but Mum got a new job and it's really good for her. I've all but finished uni for the year - still an essay and an exam to go, but otherwise I'm off til next February - so the stress of uni's pretty much off me. I should be happier than I am now. I should be... I don't know, better. Less obnoxious. Less annoying. Something.

Maybe it's just me but recently I've been feeling like I'm never in a consistent state of happiness. I mean, I have random bursts of happiness, sure. But never a consistent state of happiness. And I'm supposed to be happy, I know that. Joy in all situations or something along those lines. I'm really struggling with everything, to be perfectly frank. I'm struggling with my faith a lot at the moment. And I know I shouldn't be. I really shouldn't be. I thought I went through the worst of it when I was in Canada, I thought I'd gotten the doubt and the craziness out of my system. What the heck.

Things were going so well, you know? I had it sorted. I was really on fire for God. I knew what He wanted from me, He'd told me about the grand scheme of things and I know what He's got in store for me in the future. At least, I know what I thought He had in store for me. I could be wrong. I can barely get through the now. I know I'm supposed to finish uni, He made that clear, but the problem is that I can't hear Him at the moment so who knows if I'm doing what I'm supposed to? And I know He'll listen to me and speak to me but at the moment, I can't bring myself to try to talk to God because.. I don't know. I'm mad. I'm really mad at God because Dad is sick and we've been praying so much and I know He can do anything but He's not. Dad had a vision that he'd be able to run a marathon before he turned 50 and I felt like it was a sign that things would be better soon but instead it felt like things got worse and can we take four more years of Dad being sick? It feels like God's playing some sort of a game with us. It's like when see how many times you can poke the cat before it scratches you. Is He trying to see how far He can push us? How far our loyalty can go? How much we can trust Him? If so, I'm trying, I really am. I am honestly, truly, trying to hold on as much as I can but seriously, couldn't He just heal my dad?

I scare myself a little sometimes with how not fine I am and how fine I pretend to be. I'm a hypocrite. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I help with the children's church. I go to bible study. I sing in the choir. I help with Junior Youth Group. I'm involved with a group on campus. I help teach Bible in Schools. I'm in a band and we're singing these songs that I wrote almost a year ago now and I'm looking at them and realising that I haven't written a song since February because I haven't been able to. And I hate it a little, but what I hate more is that I don't really hate it. But who the heck am I supposed to admit all this to? I mean, I look fine on the outside the majority of the time. People aren't supposed to see my cracks. And then this weekend, when the speaker said "you might be fooling everyone, you may be fooling yourself, but you're not fooling God" and it just sent shivers right down me. And I'm thinking: "is this a make or break kind of moment? Do I have to decide all over again if I am in or out?"

It's a weird feeling. I'm so involved with everything that if I just quit everything I did, it'd cause a massive as stir and I really can't deal with that kind of drama but I don't know if I want to just be going through the motions. Because I know these things were important to me once and in a way, they still are. They really still are. I'm just finding it hard at the moment. I just want to be as sure as I was just a few months ago. I want... something, I don't really know what it is exactly that I want, but whatever it is, sure, okay. There's something that I need to do - pray about it, I guess. Spend more time in the prayer room. I've been avoiding it like the plague recently. I went in today for the first time in a good few months. It was... well, still there. I know that effort needs to be made on my part, I know that I need to actually get in there, into the thick of things but the truth is that I've never been good at prayer or getting into scripture and the fact that I don't really want to at the moment is not making it easy. Before, sure I wasn't great at it but I wanted to talk to God and I wanted to read my Bible and now... I kind of don't. And it feels blasphemous to even say that and it feels like I'm a complete screw-up and nothing is going right for me at the moment.

I know what I believe. I know about God. I have met Him. I know in my heart of hearts that God exists and it's going to take a lot more than this - whatever this is - to convince me otherwise but there's something wrong, I can't pinpoint it exactly and it's killing me a little. While everyone else around me moves forward, lives their lives, sorts things out, has things work out for them I am here, standing still, and all my accomplishments seem like nothing, nothing I do seems to have any meaning, all I am doing is working and drinking too much coffee and quite honestly, nearly killing myself, living on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and for what? Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless. I am running out of patience with myself. If I really believe what I profess to believe, I know that despite all of my failures, God loves me. He loves me enough to die for me. He loves me even if I don't love myself. Right now, I don't love myself. I don't even like myself. If I were someone else and I met me, I probably wouldn't mind me but if I were someone else and I saw through me, then I would probably leave the room because that person is a white washed tomb, a complete and utter disaster area, pretty much dead spiritually and trying to pretend that everything's okay. And I can't accept that! But I'm having trouble changing that. Maybe I'm being hard on myself, maybe I'm just too tired to even be thinking about this but... my gut tells me things are not right. My gut tells me I'm not right. I'm not even trying to be right. And I can't seem to find the energy or even the desire to try to be right.

I did get it, once upon a time, didn't I? I guess that's what I mean by putting the title as "nostalgia isn't what it used to be" - I can remember being onto it. Being really and truly connected with God. Now it's just kind of... there as a distant memory and a thing I'm supposed to cling onto, to really understand. I don't know who to talk to about this. I don't know who I'm supposed to come clean to so I'm just going to jet this long, rambling post off into cyberspace and maybe someone somewhere can give me some perspective because honestly I don't know what to do about it anymore. Then again, I suppose half the security of posting this monstrosity is that I know the chances of anyone reading it are slim and I couldn't bring myself to explain any of this - again, whatever this is - to someone's face. Because I am supposed to have it all together. Everyone else does. I hate pride sometimes. Cause it's what's stopping me from actually having someone I'm fully accountable to. For someone who's supposed to be a fine upstanding Christian I certainly am a joke sometimes. Good grief.

It's late. I might feel better tomorrow. I might realise I'm probably over reacting but in all honesty, this is probably all true and a long time coming. Maybe a good nights sleep will give me a little perspective on this.

ALP,
Rosie

Timing...

... it appears, is not one my strong suits. I was half an hour late for the AFS meeting tonight which led to me missing Volley and most of the meeting. *sighs* I do have two kumara in my handbag, though, if that's any consolation. *sighs again*

I've been told off for not updating my blog, so I thought I might just do that. Stewart mentioned it tonight and Shaw's been at me for not updating it as well, so I figured I should. Not that anything particular exciting has happened since February. Well, a lot has happened, but nothing that Stewart won't know about... maybe Shaw will be interested. And I guess that Carol's reading this as well although she probably knows anything that's happened in the last six months. Maybe. *shrugs* I dunno. What to say, what to say...

Uni went well last trimester, I guess. I didn't do as well as I did last year, mostly because I was slightly less obsessive and because I have a gazillion things on my plate that had nothing to do with my education. I'm helping with RE at a local school, that's fun. RE is Bible in Schools and I really like it, although it is tiring. I got a job at a cafe at uni, which is nice because it's extra cash and it's convienient. I sprained my ankle again about a month ago. I tend to do that. My physiotherapist says I'm the most accident prone person she knows. Mostly because I came to physio a week back and informed her that since my last visit, I'd slammed the door on my foot and had my foot stood on by my rather drunk friend Nick salsa dancing at the languages ball. (That was fun, by the way. My sister came with me. She can balance orange juice on her head. People were impressed. Mostly because by that stage most of them couldn't even walk straight.)

As you may have gleaned, I'm on mid trimester break. It's just peachy. I have a French literature exam on Saturday and I'm really not looking forward to it because I hate French literature. The French are weird. Writers are weird. French writers are even weirder. How am I supposed to take a story seriously when they tell me that it's authour used to have reccurring nightmares about being chased by giant crabs? It's a pain that French lit is a requirement for a major, but I console myself in the fact that at the end of this year, I'll have completed all the requirements for the French major! Yay! I just have to do the Spanish and Linguistics next year and some other papers to make up points, and voila! I get to wear the funny hat. Really, the only reason I'm going to uni is for the hat.

I want to travel. I really do. I'm getting antsy here, as much as I don't want to be. I want to see things. I want to go places. At the same time, I like things here. But I want to be somewhere else. I'm not sure where, exactly, but somewhere. It's a weird feeling. I've been hanging out with the exchanges as they prepare to go home and went to a camp for a bit last weekend. I had to console two crying German girls who really, really didn't want to go home. I understand that, I felt that way when I left Quebec. Coming home sucks, it really does. You spend all this time fitting in, creating a home for yourself, then once you're finally settled, you're uprooted again. It's unfair. But it's good for you in the long run. Except for the fact that no matter where you are, there's always somewhere you wish you were. Someone to miss. It's hard, it really is. People don't get it unless they do it for themselves. But I'm digressing. I want to travel. I want to see the world, I want to put what I've been learning for the past year and a half into action.

I'm obviously tired because I'm getting all weird and philosphical. Sometimes I feel a little irrelevant where I am. It's a strange feeling. Hmmm. Things are weird and I don't know why. Things are changing and I'm just... well, I'm still me and still kind of floundering a little. Because things are really, really weird. And they shouldn't be, they just are. I'm not particularly good at expressing what I want to say when I get like this, but it's all a little strange. Things in the family have been weird. I feel like we've gone through this huge crazy time and everyone else is kind of like "I'm glad that's over" but I still feel like I'm hiding in the cellar and the tornado is long gone but I'm still freaking. Hmmm. I remember that movie with the cow in the tornado... Twister. I watched it like 4 times with a friend of mine, she went through a phase where she was totally obsessed with it. Hmmm. I'm trying to rest up for next trimester but not doing too good a job coz I don't seem to be sleeping too well. Maybe I do drink too much coffee. But sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me from biting someone's head off. Not that my mouth is physically capable of actually biting off someone's entire head. The whole idea makes me queasy.

Hmmm. Perspective is a great thing. Not my strong suit. But yeah. I've forgotten how theraputic it is to write a whole load of rubbish and beam it off into cyberspace. Woot! It actually makes me feel a whole lot better when I'm feeling yuck for no apparent reason. *shrugs* I am a bit of a fruit loop sometimes. Not that I mind. Je suis comme je suis. (Why have all my French papers to date mentioned a prostitute at some point? I don't get it. The French really are weird...)

ALP (maybe a bit sooner than the gap between this and the last entry... maybe)
Rosie

Back in the saddle again...

Just enrolled properly for university this morning. Ran around like a headless chicken for about 3 hours. Had a really, really good little chuckle to myself about the first years. Not that I'm so great just because I'm in my second year, but honestly, you can spot them a mile away because of that oh so lost look in their eyes and (on the females) excessive amounts of make-up. It's silly. Most people assumed I wasn't 1st year last year coz I wasn't wearing much make-up, which is kind of cool, and probably I'm so used to being completely lost that it just doesn't show anymore.

Have also changed my major. I'm now majoring in French and Modern Languages, instead of Second Language Education as I was earlier in the day. It's all kind of crazy... I'm quite excited to start back next week, though. It's going to be a good year.

Rosie

Wow...

... I have been mighty slack with this thing for awhile. Well, here I am, blogging again - albeit a month since my last blog. That's ridiculous - or maybe, maybe it just proves that I've actually found myself a life. Yeah! Who knew?

What have I been up to in the last month? Hmmm... on the 3rd of January I did a Potential Leaders course at the Training College of The Salvation Army and that was pretty cool. I learnt a lot, I made some very cool friends and generally had a rather rocking time. And since my dad paid for it, it was worth every penny :) Wahey! I've been hanging out with Fi a lot, though not as much as I would've liked - she left to go back to Oz on the 20th, and I miss her. My parents and my brother and his girlfriend went to Auckland on the 20th to see relatives, leaving me and Charlene home alone for a week until Parachute on the 27th. Char and I have managed to develop a minor obsession with Gilmore Girls...

Will update later. Adios!

Happy New Year!

Granted, a day late. But never mind!

It's been awhile since I last blogged, and really I'm sure there's heaps to say but it doesn't really come to mind all at once. It's really hot and I think I am supposed to be going to the beach sometime soon, so I'll just keep my phone here so I can stay posted on what's actually happening. Hmm, time for a bit of a recap of important things, I feel.

Christmas Eve: We went caroling, which is possibly my favourite thing to do at Christmas. We went and visited people from church and sang carols and generally had a very fun night. Then Mirjam, Mum and I went to midnight mass at the Catholic church. We're not Catholic, but Mirjam is, and I personally found it very cool. Tiring, though, coz midnight mass is named so because it actually starts at midnight!

Christmas Day: A service in the morning where I actually sang - I got rather nervous so it was actually a little dodgy but I'm sure everyone was so full of Christmas spirit that they didn't really mind my awful singing. We said goodbye to our officers - they're moving on, and they left on the 30th but Christmas Day was the last time I saw them. Lunch at my aunts, then dinner at our neighbours. Present highlight: guitar pick holder that attaches to my guitar. Absolute brilliance, thank you Phillipa and Rob! Very nice day, but I have to admit I was pretty shattered - nap between lunch and dinner. Such an old lady.

Boxing Day and the next: Shopping. Got myself a hair straightener, the DVD of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and blue hairdye.

Day after that: Went into town with Fi. Bought a CD, realised I had no money left, ran into people from uni all over the place, then went home and dyed my hair blue. Watched chick flicks with Mirjam and Char.

Day after that: We went to Strawberry Fare for dessert as a family. Very entertaining. First outing with blue hair, many stares. Good food.

Day after that: Mirjam's farewell shindig. People coming and going all night. Many tears.

New Years Eve: We saw Mirjam off at the airport, even more tears. Then went home to clean the house and had a party for New Years Eve, which was actually a lot of fun. About 15 of us, hung out, played games, ate lots, fireworks, general hanging out... a nice way to end 2005.

I'll leave it at that. Adios!
Rosie