You ever have one of those days when you feel like throwing someone’s mocha at them after the third time making it wrong, and you feel like curling up in the corner and crying, or you feel like filling your tank up with gas and just hitting the freeway for anywhere but here? Today wasn’t one of those days…

My coworkers are the best, that’s all I gotta say. Just so you know…and just for the record…they’re the best. I want to take them all to school with me, I don’t care if we all 12 have to share a room. I talked to Erienne on Saturday about how frustrated I was with the schedule and how I wanted to get two days off. So she goes and changes it. Like the petite little blonde stud she is. So now, I have (drumroll please…) the 27th through the 3rd off. NICE. Which means if for some reason we decide to throw together a shindig for new years…guess who is how do you say…available? Anyways, that and the fact that working with April always puts me in a good mood has brightened my evening right up.

I’ve been dragged to church my entire life. Both of my parents are Christians, yes. I come from a “Christian” family. The church I attended up until fifth grade ( I don’t exactly remember when we left), was a little hmmmm conservative? Ok, really conservative. My two closest friends there were Julia Bell and my cousin Chris Harty (who is a stud). They both decided that they needed to get saved, so…I hopped on the bandwagon in front of our antique brown couch which is now sitting in my parents’ bedroom. A lot of interesting and a lot more uninteresting stuff happened, like…we started attending First Family. I attended a “youth group” for the first time, and I found that there was Christian music much cooler than the Gaither vocal band. No offense if you dig them…I think I really dug in and got serious about Christianity when I attended Breakaway camp in July of 96? 97? Shoot, I’ll have to look at my t shirt to remember, but hey, it’s 12:18 am…you’d forget too. Anyway, where were we…ah yes, Young Life camp. I have way too many super emotional experiences to remember them all, and this isn’t really an exception. All I remember was being told to go out alone and pray…pray for brokenness. I had no clue what that meant, but since I was a follower at that point in time, I did like I was told. I remember bursting into tears on the front porch of that beach house and all I could feel was this craving…this intense desire for God, and for myself to just fade away until there was nothing but God left. It was then I knew I wanted to go into the ministry. I had no idea what a woman could do in the ministry…and I didn’t even know if that was kosher. But all I knew was that God was asking me to. And I still know that. And although a lot of times I doubt myself, and a lot of times I see other opportunities that I could take, I still know. I’m scared that I’m going to fall away or realize that I’m just fooling myself. I wonder if the same thing is going to happen to me that has happened to some of my friends. I wonder if Young Life is a good fit for me. I wonder if I’ll be “fun” enough, “spiritual” enough, or “committed” enough. Good? Maybe…then I don’t rely on my own strengths to minister, I’m forced to rely on God. Bad? Maybe too…am I doubting God’s ability to work? But does God need me? I don’t think I can answer that question. Somewhere I hear no, because, heck, He’s God, He don’t need anyone. But somewhere else I whisper yes, and I don’t know if it’s because I want to be needed, or because He has a plan for me…for my life…pathetic as it may be. He created me with my weaknesses for a reason. I just have to acknowledge that.

On an entirely different note…any of you that have ever visited Columbia Center…have you seen the guy in the Superman costume? He seriously freaks me out. Saturday it was Superman and today it was Spiderman. He gets kind of upset if you don’t call him by the name of the super hero costume he’s wearing. I just feel somewhat…odd…serving a five foot Asian Superman a double skinny latte…

She lives in a yellow submarine…
Me.

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