It's Great to be a Florida Gator!

A few weeks ago, Zack and I took the youth group to Night of Joy at Disney World. We got home around 3:30 am. And, since Zack has this insane ability to go days without sleep, and because I have this insane inability to say no to his crazy ideas, we got up the next day and headed to Gainesville with Omar, hoping to score some cheap tickets to the Gator game. The scalpers made us wait until about half way through the first quarter and after the gators had already scored before they would come down to a semi-reasonable price for 3 tickets (not even together!). It was my first time in the Swamp, and it was the most fun I've had in a long time. To say we had to look down on the nosebleed section would be an understatement, but we inched our way down closer to the field as people began to leave what turned out to be a pretty uneventful game. By the last five minutes, we were close enough to hear the cheerleaders and see Urban Meyer without binoculars. The Gators won, of course, though I was too busy taking pictures and texting everyone to tell them we got into the game to pay much attention to the game itself. Zack was seriously like a kid on Christmas morning. It's great to be a Florida Gator!

Running marathon:26 miles........................... Office marathon: 22 episodes

In honor of the new season of the Office beginning this Thursday, Zack, Meghan, Rebekah and I finished off our Office season 3 marathon this weekend--and boy was it a marathon! 16 episodes (some hour-long) in 24 hours. It was super fun and amazing. They came over late Saturday night, and we ate left-over lasagna and watched until about 1 am. Then we got up about 11 the next morning, made a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, chocolate chip pancakes and coffee and continued on our Office journey. We watched until our butts ached and our necks were stiff. We took breaks for showers and dinner, and we paused when we had to use the bathroom, but we persevered. We laughed until our heads hurt. We would rewind when Jim mumbled. We cried when Pam got her heart broken. And we finished season 3! I cannot wait until Thursday!! Wow, my life sounds small and sad. And I don't even care! I'm so excited!

The Mean Time

I haven't blogged about my life at present in a while because there is so much going on that I can't really talk about and also because Zack and I seem to be stuck in limbo right now. Lots of decisions to be made, a lot to think about. And we are thinkers. I don't mean we're smart (that goes w/out saying), but we have to think and discuss and hash over every minute decision we make until we ultimately drive ourselves crazy with it. We don't want to make the wrong decision, we don't want to be out of God's will, we don't want to be impetuous, we're scared. For whatever reason, we always like to take our time, work things through, and wait. And I don't think it's a bad thing necessarily, but lately it's starting to kill me. Lately I'm starting to think that sometimes faith is just stepping out and saying "I don't know, but I'll try." Dr. Mark Rutland preaches a sermon about when God told him to "Go to Ghana." He (God) didn't say how, He didn't say when, He just said Go. Dr. Rutland didn't even know what he would do once he got there--he had no contacts in Ghana. But God told him to go, and he just went, And God provided for Him every step of the way. That sounds so crazy in this day and age of technology--everything can be organized, planned, detailed, confirmed, all with minimal effort and leaving no room for the uncertain and unplanned. And often leaving no room for God to just be in control and for us to just depend on Him. And why should we? We can handle things ourselves.

Zack and I were recently hit hard with the news of a friend's death. He had cancer, but we had been praying and fasting for him for a while. His cancer had gone into remission. Things were looking good for him. The chemotherapy had weakened his body's defenses, and when an infection set into his lungs, he wasn't able to fight it. We are devastated. And as I get ready to attend his viewing this evening and funeral tomorrow, I'm struck by the realization that any thoughts of control over our own lives are not only arrogant but naive. We only control what God allows us to. The rest is in His hands. As a bit of a control freak myself, that's a realization that's both terrifying and freeing. I'm not responsible for Tim's death. I prayed, I fasted, I quoted scripture, I did everything I knew how to do, and in the end, God did what He wanted to do anyway. I've always fought the urge to think But, I could've done more... The truth is that I don't want that kind of responsibility. At some point, God has to see my humanness and do His will in spite of my best efforts.

I want God to do His will in my life. Maybe this blog is more of a prayer than anything else. God, do what You want to do in my life, and don't let me get in the way with my selfish plans. Only, do it quickly, do it now. I'm growing weary of the meantime.

Huckabee evangelizes on CNN

I'm sure many of you have seen this already, but I just watched it for the first time and was absolutely blown away by it. I have been a staunch Brownback advocate since The Call Nashville, but I may be swayed toward Huckabee after this answer to what he believes about creation.

More Stories from Adolescence

As middle-schoolers went, I was not the most well-endowed. In fact, I was built like an 8-year old boy. In the seventh grade I had been asked to go to the Homecoming Banquet by an older boy, and, since I wouldn't have been old enough to go otherwise, my mother let me go under the condition that I wear my older sister's Homecoming dress from a few years prior. The dress required that I get a strapless bra, and the only one we could find to fit me was extremely padded. I persuaded my mom to let me get it. The bra had detachable straps, so I of course wore it to school every day once Homecoming was over.

One morning, I was sitting in Mrs. Yeager's math class taking a test when I felt something snap. I looked around to see if someone had hit me with something, but when everyone looked as if they were concentrating on the math test, I went back to work. Mrs. Yeager was walking up and down the aisles as we quietly worked. Then, to my horror, she stopped, picked something up off the floor, held it up in the air and announced "Who's is this?" It was my bra strap! The elastic strap had shot across the classroom! I ran over to her, snatched it from her hand, threw it in my backpack, and died the humiliating death of a flat-chested seventh grader.