Things to do before I die.

This list was comprised a little over 6 years ago.

In my lifetime I will:
Get baptized in the Jordan River
Write my name in pink crayon on the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower
Own a yellow polka dot bikini
Visit Peru
Walk across Abbey Road
Learn to fluently speak another language
Find a heart shaped piece of sea glass
Get married barefooted
Keep a friend
Learn everything I can about something that will never matter
Do something completely on my own
Change someone's life for the better
Paint "love"
Find my soulmate
Eat at the McDonalds on Broadway
(the things that are in italics have been accomplished)

new additions (as of August 2008):
study the book of Isaiah
have a daughter named Grace
take Omar to Europe
celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary
learn to play an instrument

even newer additions (as of 2 minutes ago):
learn to cook arepas and empanadas
open a small business
live in California

love.love.love.

We made a baby!

Isnt she presh? She has Omar's right eyebrow! Awwww.

And this is what she'll look like all grown up!

We are so proud! And if this is any indication of what our grown up child will look like, we are looking into adoption. Ha ha.

To make your own baby, just go to moonjee.com :)

Heavy and light

My heart is generally a million places at once. Sometimes my mind can keep up with it, mostly it trails behind. I usually have to take time away from my world to sort out whats going on in my heart. Burdens are heavy, heavy things to carry. Thorns in my flesh, and the thorns in others keep my mind wandering long into the night, usually subconsciously. I am in a pit of despair and on a cloud of joy, and truthfully, I just want this semester to be over. It seems like things that would normally be taken lightly are taken hard, and things that have great importance are overlooked. I feel like im in a whirlwind of obligations and deadlines and dreams, and did I mention that all I can think about is having a little girl? My desire to want to have a baby has gone from practical to mandatory to practical again. Waiting, waiting, and waiting. And pleading with time to slow down too. I need more time, and less time and no watches because I cant even tell time. Did you know that? Most people don't. I suppose that now that im a teacher I should probably TEACH myself how to do that, but we are children of the digital era and I dont have time to waste in the first place. In the meantime, this is called a stream of consciousness, and if you are one of the 2 people that has read my writing since the livejournal and mydiary days, you'll know that im quite fond of these. You just write, and you dont stop, and eventually you get out whatever it is thats weighing you down, and if you are me, thats how you pray too. And also, if you are me, you correct your spelling and grammar errors as you go along, because you are a little bit obsessive compulsive and have very little grace sometimes. Speaking of Grace. Nevermind.

Stories

As a YoungLife leader for several years, I became very well acquainted with stories. The lives of teens. My own life. The redemption story detailed in the life of Jesus. As a leader, I was given countless opportunities to share these stories, to reflect on how incidences of joy and tragedy in my own life are woven into the story of Jesus.
When I started this blog, I intended it to be a place of release, like every other blog ive had for the last six years has been, I know now that it is actually a place to share my story. Why is it that we are so intent on being known? And to knowing eachother?
I am literally addicted to biographies and blogs. I read them from beginning to end, often in one setting. And maybe the actual addiction is not the stories at all, but the people telling (living) them. Since I started blogging, i've discovered countless people who have captured my heart and become a part of my own story. There is something about blogging that is so real, so unedited. And there is something about life that lies along the same lines. I think our stories define us, particularly the chapters that we have no control over.
I believe that the creator of the universe has written (is writing) a redemption story of epic proportions. That He will stop at absolutely nothing to have a relationship with His children. With me. With you. His story is hard to wrap your mind around, even for me (especially for me) and yet so clear. It is written in every human breath. Every sunset and sunrise and flower and rainbow and moment of peace. And also in every storm and instance of heartbreak and death and disaster. I believe that there is an everlasting love that blankets the universe healing our deepest wounds and filling the voids of our innermost being. And that He knows my story, and your story, because He wrote it.

Twelve

Dear Olivia,

Last night, when you went to sleep, you were eleven. This morning, when you woke up, an anniversary was marked. A moment in time where the earth stopped, twelve years ago, and the whole world changed. We will never be the same. I remember the moment I became somebody's sister, your sister, and the doctor held you up in the air, your gooey, slimy, pink, little self, and announced your arrival to the world. And suddenly, our 47 year old mother had just performed a miracle, and I became a sister, and Daddy held his own little, pink, baby, and you totally captured our hearts. I don't remember all of the specific dates of the milestones of your infancy. I do remember that the sibling I had always hoped for changed everything.
You cried at night, and slept during the day, and ate the weirdest stuff. You liked to eat butter, straight up, spoonfuls at a time. You were absolutely obsessed with little orphan Annie. Maybe you could explain to me why you needed to watch that movie 42 times a day? You sang Britney Spears songs on the coffee table. You snuck into my room while I was at school and poured nail polish all over my carpet. You went through a phase where you labeled everything in marker, like my "chrash can," in Sharpie, for instance. Thanks for that, by the way. You loved pooh. And pooing. You owe me at least 3493 dirty diaper changes on your future neices and nephews, just so you know. During your Mulan phase, you put your beautiful hair in a pony tail on the top of your head and cut it off (maybe you were trying to be a samurai or something?). You wore princess dresses for bed, and around the house, and to the grocery store and the park and Home Depot.

Then, somewhere along the line, my little, baby, sister suddenly became a person. A walking, talking, person, with gifts and ideas and the best sense of humor i've ever seen. You started making movies that have captivated everyone I know. On more than one occasion, someone has come up to me and told me that they watch your movies when they are having a bad day and it makes their day much better. I agree, you could make any bad day good. Youre a little spitfire now, who is quick on her feet and able to take on any one. You are resilient and capable and determined and brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

You are beautiful, even during your "awkward phase,"and dang girl, you can shake it. You can hold your own in a conversation with people who are in college, and sometimes I think my friends would rather hang out with you than me. I don't blame them. You are way funnier than I could ever be. You are eager to learn about God's love and quick to express it. And you are so, so, loved. Being in middle school is hard, really hard, and you are continuing to approach it with grace and charisma. I am so proud of who you are. And who you will become. Your attitude towards life is contagious. Hold onto your child-like faith as you continue to take on the world. Seek God. Ask Questions. Be yourself.
My little air-fry, le cremeee, liver, boo, olive, peanut, cheeseburger, sibling, you are an absolute dream come true.
Happy twelfth birthday.
I love you.

Als

Not sick of you yet.

My longest relationship before I married Omar was eleven months, and I was in tenth grade.
I dated other guys, but there was always a period of three or four months in the middle of our relationship where I had broken up with them because I was bored, dated someone else, gotten bored, gotten back together with them, only to get bored and break up with them again.
I have the attention span of a gnat, and thought that my life's purpose was be to be a girl who was gifted in perpetually falling in love, but not staying there.
Part of this can be attributed to my ridiculously high expectations, which were humanly impossible to meet for any substantial amount of time, so when I would meet a guy that I liked, I would pursue him relentlessly, manipulate him into falling in love with me, expect him to buy me flowers daily and take me on exotic dates and refrain from doing the slightest thing that would make me uninterested, and break up with him anyway.
It was pathetic, and is a period of my life that I am totally ashamed of. This part of my life left me with a conclusion at nineteen years old: I am never going to have the ability to love someone unconditionally.
I gave alot of credit to my diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and left it at that. I don't know what my plan was, but in the depths of my heart I assumed I would just flutter from honeymoon period to honeymoon period, and bask in the glory of flowers and candy and thoughtful gifts and poems and absolute undying devotion that usually lasted around four months and in the long run left alot of people really messed up, including myself.
Then he happened.
And I dont give him all the credit for tethering my wild heart. In fact, most of the credit is due to the One who created my heart in the first place, guided it through my journey of looking for fulfillment in a million other places, patiently restructured my beliefs about what love is, and brought into my life a man who demanded to be loved unconditionally and who was able to keep my attention.
So, here we are. Almost three years later. Three years that have passed in a blink of an eye, and how was it so easy? I have been reflecting on this alot lately, and have come to very few conclusions. I think its safe to assume that the only way to explain how I have stayed faithfully and completely enamored with this man, is that he is the only man I was created to feel that way towards. That a combination of the way God has worked on my heart, and the exact mixture of the elements of Omars character and the way he playfully and intentionally holds my heart, and is not only the man of all of my wildest dreams, but is truly my very best friend, somehow completes the puzzle and breaks the cycle and naturally just works. I could do this for at least another three, or three thousand, years. Easily.

2005

I was a tragic and emotional 18 year old. Prepare to LOL.

These blog entries were written in the spring of 2005:

2005-04-18

I remember liking the blue of his eyes more than the sky, 

and I still do, but only when he wears red and only on days 

that end the way this one did. Actually, I only love his 

eyes half the time, because they are warm and inviting and 

they love me more than he does. The other half the time 

they are cold and make me feel like im being looked at by a 

complete stranger. Today they loved me.

2005-04-15

I want more out of life. I want funyuns, and pretty 

dresses, and i want to open my mouth really wide when its 

full of food, i want to spin in circles until i feel like 

im going to puke, and jump on my bed to "material girl" by 

madonna, i want minute maid squeeze bars that jon used to 

bring me whenever i begged him to, i want to worship with 

my knees in sand (and not just beach sand, real sand like 

the kind you find in morocco), i want to lay on a float in 

the pool and read classic literature-something really 

disturbing too like Brave New World or Lolita, also i want 

more things in my life that are green- i love the color 

green and dont really get enough of it.

Oh, and by the way, Im a prophet:

2005-04-05

I want someone to braid my hair right now, but i want my 

hair too be much longer. I've always pictured myself 

getting married with long hair and not wearing it up 

because thats too cliche...I also think i would like to be 

a hippie minus the drugs. I'll work on that.

If something looks like love, sounds like love, and feels 

like love...its probably not orange soda.

My thought processes are a little off tonight. 

2005-05-29

i realized today that i crave people. not just any people. 

i crave people that i feel like i can never satisfy. i 

abandon people that i can please and fill their void with 

people that always force me to try harder, to go the extra 

mile. the moment i feel like im losing someone, like im not 

enough for them anymore, a little light starts blinking in 

my head and im pushed into overdrive. suddenly i panic, and 

my fear of abandonment takes over, and i become 

superme...this extended, overexagerated, exhausting version 

of myself. i think i search for people that are empty and 

somehow try to fill them with myself, and then im empty and 

i cant figure out why. also, i am not enough for these 

people, thats what makes them so appealing- i'll never 

satisfy them...so im left empty and they are left wanting 

more and i have nothing more to give and then i feel 

defeated, like ive lost a game but really i was the only 

one playing the game in the FIRST place. 

I think i give my life to God and then take it back at 

least once a day. I really need to get that checked out.

I knew that keeping a blog for the last 6 years would come back to haunt me. I wonder if ill post blog entries from 2009 a few years from now and wonder what the hell went on in my brain.
As Becca Call once (34234 times) said, "Ohmygosh. That is so embarrassing."