a short story on this gloomy day.

I feel that lately I've encountered many people that seem to feel as if they're unremarkable in some way, needing someone to reassure them of their worth. This common theme reminded me of my sweet friend, Martin. Martin, however, is not real. He is a character in a short story I wrote last year. Because it's a gloomy day, and you're probably not wanting to get out of bed (if you're having a Wednesday similar to mine), enjoy this short story about a deaf man in a big city, struggling to feel important. 

My presence, slowly approaching; back to reality. I never want to awake from a dream. I struggled to remember her name. Jenna, I think? She reached out, longing for happiness that she stood confident of receiving. Her beautiful eyes reflected a remarkable man. Was I him? Her figure hurriedly blurred away, and I could feel my blood start to boil. I always seem to wake up before I fully see what my destiny holds. By that time, I had already forgotten what it took for me to get there. 

            Louie, my personal alarm clock and my reasoning for continued employment, slobbered on my face just like any other morning. My eyes fully opened to his tail wagging back and forth. I still doubted Louie’s intelligence from time to time and so, I looked down the hall at those tiny hands that seemed to hold too much power for its fragile appearance. 7 AM. Right on time. Like always. At least my vision remains immaculate. I stood up and reached for what might as well be rocks, and shoved them in my ear. You would think I would get use to the irritation but I never do.  Louie trailed behind me as I grabbed my uniform. Martin, it read right above the left pocket. Why require all city transits to dress the same anyways? If I were on my way to work, the last thing on my mind would be the pattern of the bus driver’s shirt. I guess I am different though.

            I arrived at the lot at 8 AM. I drive the same bus every day, and I have no trouble seeking my bus out among the rest. I remember my bus number 63 pretty easily; after all, most people typically do not forget their age. Driving away from the lot, heading towards downtown, I looked in my rearview mirror, with nothing really worth looking at. So instead, I focused ahead, and found myself thinking about my dream, disappointed with the San Francisco views ahead of me: Nothing.

            Something lingered differently about this morning. Maybe it was that image of happiness embedded in my brain which left me desperate and envious of that stranger’s contentment. If he was a stranger.

Along my route, I continuously greet every passenger with a smile and a simple hello, and usually the most I receive is the corners of their lips curving, instead of making the motions of what I would love to see. A smile is nice, but it lacks the influence as words. Today, I’m going to start a conversation with a passenger. The next one.

“Hello.” She was very put together, from her perfect golden curls, to the absent wrinkles on her clothing. She looked about late twenties. She walked up as if she was taking a mental picture of every image laid out in front of her. She walked slowly. Unlike most passengers, her head was not held high with confidence, clutching a briefcase to her side. What were those papers in her hands covered in red ink? Newspaper ads?

“Good morning” her lips displayed, smiling like she meant it. “I’m lost” she seemed to laugh. My mother’s exuberant laugh use to fill a room with joy.  If I try hard enough, I can focus and hear the echo of it in my mind. 24 years old. Young age to lose both parents, along with a basic foundation for remembering them.

 I caught a glance of the papers she held in her right hand and recognized my apartment building name circled. In her other hand, I automatically identified what it was. I remember when I first moved to the city, escaping the memories I left behind me. Yes, I knew exactly what it was. Hundreds of lines, curved and straight, blue and red, intertwined with one another. I was so scared then. “I don’t mean to be nosey but I noticed my building name on your newspaper.”

“Wow, small world. That’s my new building! I moved in this morning.”

“Well, welcome to San Francisco. So what can I help you with?”

“As you can tell, the map will be my best friend for a while” she smiled again. “Could you possibly drop me off at the closest laundromat? I’m trying to learn my surroundings.”  

“Of course. It’s just four blocks down.”

***

My nightly trip home always provides peace and allows me to reflect on my day. I often joke to myself about how I get paid for free therapy. Today was different. I didn’t even ask her what her name was. I wonder what she ran away from to bring her to this chaos alone. Poor kid. Well, I guess she isn’t a kid; I’m just getting old. I’m getting old.

I usually finish my shift around six, perfect time to come back and fill me and Louie’s stomachs. Walking home, I looked at my watch; 6 PM. Like always. My life is so predictable. Walking in my building, I thought to myself why I ever chose an apartment without an elevator. Or at least, one on a nearer floor. Mine is on the fourth. I started walking up the steps; First floor, second floor, third floor, and then suddenly I felt little shove. It almost knocked me off my balance for a second but then I turned around to face her.

“You walked right past my door and I kept saying hi and you didn’t answer! I’m the girl from the bus this morning!”

I often forget others aren’t magically placed in my mind and know everything about my life. I forget people didn’t walk in that small room as my mother let that gun declare her destiny. I forget how loud it really was. I forget. 

“I’m sorry. I’m...deaf.”

“You’re…deaf? You talk so well though!”

“I lost my hearing when I was 24 years old. It’s easy for me to talk and I had to study lips for a long time before I could easily read lips.”

“Oh my goodness. I had no idea. I’m so sorry. My name is Renee, by the way.”

She held out her hand, and waited. It took me a while before I realized Renee was accepting me. In return and appreciation, I reached out and shook her hand.

“I’m Martin.”

“I know” she smiled and then pointed at my shirt, answering my confused expression.

“Well if you ever need anything, I’m just on the next floor. If you knock, my lab will make sure I know of it.”

            “Thank you, Martin! And if you ever need anything, you’ll have to knock extremely hard. I sleep through anything. Maybe I should get a dog of my own” she smiled.

            “Have a good night, Renee. And thank you.”

            “For what?”

            I suddenly felt a glimpse of meaning in my life for the first time since I can remember.

            “Not asking how I lost my hearing.”

***

            I laid in bed that night finding myself reflecting on my entire life. I was remembering things that I hadn’t until now. I found myself thinking back to the day dad had his heart attack. Maybe I expected too much out of mom. She gave up. I can honestly say I’m proud of myself. I never gave up. “Goodnight Louie.”

            I never want to awake from a dream. There was smoke and there was that girl again. This time, her eyes looked frightened. I had to help her! I had to hel.. I’m awake. It was just a nightmare. I lay there panting. Why do I still smell smoke? I looked down the hall to find Louie pacing back and forth at the door. What is happening? Then, the second my feet hit the floor, I felt it. I began to run sensing the warmth with each step I took. I ran down the steps, falling halfway. Please, don’t be too late. Please.

            “Renee!” I screamed. My fist began to ache and I looked down to blood merged in with my wrinkles. “Help! Somebody help!” Then somehow, someway, my adrenaline gave me the strength to kick down the door. Or maybe even it was the big man upstairs. When the door flung open, it was almost if the room was split into two sides, Heaven and Hell. The fire was close but I still had time. I ran over to her, Louie right behind, to find her slowly opening her eyes. Her mouth opened in terror and I can only guess the horrifying noise that followed. I held out my hand to her, and focused on her eyes glistening. In the flames, I recognized my reflection. My reflection.  

***

            Louie, going crazier than usual. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” I opened the door to see her standing there, smeared mascara left under her eyes.

            “Renee! They released you!”

            She began to cry. “You didn’t only save my life. You saved my son’s.” She placed her hands on her stomach and gave it a grateful pat. I stood there, my entire body numb. She smiled, “I found out he was a boy today before they released me. I’ve decided to name him Martin.”

I just skipped a class and blogged.

This morning, the realization that I have less than a month of my freshman year of college left really hit me. Some of my favorite times at Mizzou are days like today, when you can actually hear the birds chirping when you walk outside and see far off in the distance without scattered students blocking the way. Yes, it's Easter weekend and that means there aren't nearly as many people on campus right now. Professors: I recommend not telling your students a set number of unexcused absences they receive for the semester, because I WILL strategically plan to use them ALL before it reaches the end. Today, exhibit A (and one class that I missed accidentally--oops).

It's evident that I love Columbia. One of my good friends questioned me the other day as to why I love it as much as I do. And surprisingly, I did have to think about it for a minute. I had, and still do, express my happiness here due to the friendships and blessings I have encountered in a short timespan of 8 months. Intangible things. However, when I pondered the experiences of freshman year, I found a variety of nouns that fit that appreciation. I know I talk about the people a great deal. And the things I do or picked up in college. Rarely have I solely thought about the places in Columbia. Tangible things.

1. The campus:

This one is fairly obvious. But seriously, Mizzou's campus is BEAUTIFUL. Mizzou: you a dime. This includes my Rock community's home made in Memorial Student Union, aka Memorial or Mem. We. Live. There. You could be sitting in my dorm room one minute and then, after a 12-minute walk, be in the center of downtown. Tradition after tradition, history after history, that's what Mizzou's campus is. The J-School itself is incredible, but I'm a tad biased (well that's ironic).

2. Capen Park:

Without a doubt, guaranteed to provide peace when you reach the top. I'm winded by the time I get there, but I'm also winded every day when I walk up three flights of stairs for my French class. It seems that if someone is struggling on a given day or even myself, the response is usually, "You should go to Capen." Hands down, one of the best places to watch the sunrise. 

3. Cafe Berlin:

You know in FRIENDS how Central Perk is their home away from home that promises a wonderful cup of delicious coffee? Cafe Berlin is that to me. Many wonderful conversations have happened here and it was the topic of the first article I ever had published, so that's kind of neat. Dat apples and sausage doe. 

4. Big Tree:

This is always a place that's funny to tell outsiders about. "What's at Big Tree?" "A big tree." "That's it?" Basically, it's this big open field that is about a 15-minute drive from campus with a really big tree. It's a cool part of Columbia's history and is super old. I went there the other night with some friends to watch the lunar eclipse. Perfect view of all of the stars.

5. My parking garage:

Yes, you read that correctly. My parking garage is on the edge of campus so I go a little out of my way when I park. But sometimes, I'll think of an excuse to drive and intentionally leave to watch the sunset. The elevator also talks there. 

6. Rock Quarry Road:

I don't have a picture of this. But I love it because it reminds me of Pounds Road/Gamel Cemetary (for my Festus peeps), the road that I drove every single day, whether on my way to work or school. A peaceful, beautiful road. 

7. An unhealthy amount of places to eat, that I would probably be judged if I named them all:

• Hotbox (cookies)
• Gumby's (pizza)
• Freebirds (burritos)
• Lakota (coffee)
• D. Rowe's (BBQ)
• CHIPOTLE, CHIPOTLE, CHIPOTLE (my heart)

8. The Schulz abode:

 Lots of intense games of CatchPhrase here. Homemade popcorn guaranteed. Where we can all sit in a circle and worship together, crying and singing. The home of two incredible mentors and the parents of Midcampus. AND MIA!! 

The list goes on. I think I'll stay here awhile. 

Happy Easter weekend, everyone!

reflection.

When I decide to blog, I typically have an outline in my mind as to what I want to say. Today, I have a lot of scattered thoughts. But also, today isn't like most days.

This day marks two years since we lost my dad. And instead of simply saying, "I'm doing okay today," I decided to write about it. For some of you, you may know a lot about the memories and life lessons I cherish because of this man and this could be repetitive. For others, you may have no idea. And even for me, I don't know completely what I'm going to write. But I feel strongly about sharing what's on my heart today. 

Because it is April 10th, I'm going to share with you 10 things on my heart, whether put there by God to share with you or simply a memory overwhelmingly flooding my mind. 

I still don't know what I'm specifically going to write, so here goes nothing:

1. Allow plenty of time for laughter. 

I can't tell you the countless times my dad would make me laugh until my cheeks hurt. And I also can't tell you how many times that happened when I was in a "crabby Madi" mood. One time I remember driving and he was in the passenger seat and we went by a speed zone and I thought it took your picture. So, like any giddy, teenage girl would do, I stuck my tongue as we drove by. He laughed at me for a couple of seconds until informing me that it doesn't take your picture and then mocking me of the ridiculous face I had made. It's one of my fondest memories. 

2. Enjoy the silence nature has to offer.

My dad LOVED hunting. I use to go hunting with my dad. I think a lot of people would laugh if they knew that. I seem like one of the last people to go sit for hours in silence and wait to potentially kill an animal. Let's be honest, I would have went even if I had known beforehand we weren't going to see any deer. We would usually take the trailer with the four-wheelers on it, unload everything, and drive really fast to our destination (usually beating the sunrise). We would sit in (almost) silence and grow excited even at the smallest of sounds we heard in the woods, usually a squirrel. Darn squirrels. One time, we were sitting in a tent and my dad was growing anxious awaiting the sight of a deer. And there she was. He whispered, "Get ready." I looked at him in awe. "You want me to try?" So I slowly pulled up the gun, shaking uncontrollably, and I fired. I missed, he laughed. We laughed (see number 1). And we sat in silence a little while longer. 

3. Talk about your fears.

I lost count of the number of times my dad had to go to the hospital. But one time, it was just us two in one of those boxed rooms, those white walls torturous in their stillness in the midst of change. He asked me if I was scared. I answered and asked him the same question. I weeped, he weeped. We held each other's hands, in no hurry to heal the pain we were feeling. 

4. Allow time for adventures.

When my dad knew his time was near, he asked each of us to choose one place to go on vacation and that's where we would go. I choose New York, Austin chose Washington D.C., and my mom chose a Caribbean cruise. Then, as a family we went on a 12-day Mediterranean cruise, where we saw Greece, Italy and Israel. I still find it hard to mention this trip because of the pure joy it brings. So I'll keep that one to myself. 

5. Offer people your sincerity.

Even if it's a short 5-minute conversation, talk! My dad would always engage in a conversation with someone. He was once volunteering at a toy drive and this lady came in desperately wanting a bike for her son. Unfortunately, the bikes were all taken by the time this lady had arrived. My dad pulled out some money and told her to buy her son a bike. Could this lady have used this money on something else? Probably. The lady in charge of the toy drive came running over and said, "Victor, you can't do that." "I just did." Break the rules sometimes. It's priceless.

6. Find ways to show your love.

I always felt loved by my dad when he made me biscuits and his famous homemade gravy. Yes, food made me feel loved. It wasn't always him saying "I love you" when I felt his love the most. 

7. Be a learner and a teacher. 

Before every Sunday school class, he would sit in his recliner throughout the week and focus his attention on the lesson for the week. I watched him sit in his comfy clothes, absorbing and studying, to then in a buttoned up shirt on a Sunday morning, transporting those lessons from his mind to a room full of teenagers. It was always a beautiful observation. 

8. Be honest.

I could always approach my dad with a question and knowing I'd receive the truth, even if I didn't want to hear it. I think his honestly shocked some people sometimes, but when from most people I've talked to, it was one of their favorite things about him. 

9. Keep singing.

This is meant to be interpreted figuratively and literally. My entire family has a passion for music. Sometimes, when the emotions were too high too powerful to put in words, we would play a meaningful song. I'm not saying everyone loves music, but if you do, share that with your family. Sing with them. As for figuratively, it reminds me of the song that always brings deep reflection of my dad. In 10,000 Reasons, the lyrics: "Whatever may pass or whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes." You can still sing through tears, as he did (also a double interpretation there).

10. We will serve the Lord.

My dad's favorite verse: "Choose this day whom you will serve. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. Joshua 24:15" As oddly as it sounds, I am so thankful for the 10 days my dad was in the hospital before he passed. It was only a few days in before he lost communication. But he could still hear. And we would play music and talk about Heaven and he would tap his foot along to the music. He was still serving the Lord and throughout his sickness, he never stopped. 

How lucky I am to have my greatest inspiration on this earth to be my own father. Thank you, God. 

Double Tears, XSnot, Broken Human

Starbucks lingo clearly haunts my day-to-day life now. Exhibit A (blog title).

It's been a while. A lot has happened. Let me fill you in.

First of all, in college, you learn something new at least once a day. With that math, that means I have roughly learned 23 things since the last time I've blogged. I'd said that's fairly accurate. They don't necessarily have to be huge realizations. To name a few minor ones:

• working at Starbucks gives you a lot of baby name ideas for the far future
• even though I'm a girl, I am fully capable of eating three burgers in one sitting (that actually happened) 
• the last possible second I can sleep to make it to my 9AM on the dot
• sacrificing something for religious purposes is "lent", not "lint" (oops--hi journalism major) 

The list goes onnnnn. It's to the point of me enjoying someone characterizing me as "naive" in certain areas. Though the ones listed above are light-hearted, a moment struck me in this past month where my ignorance, yet again, was proven at understanding something that surrounded me my entire life. For as long as I can remember, I was enthralled by the thought of an ideal Christian, missing grasp of what it fully meant. You rejoice in the worship songs, the writings of the disciples, the promise of eternity, and it seems that with the title as a Christian, life will demonstrate the closest thing to perfection. 

HAHAHA. Life as a Christian= HARD. 

For me, I bought into the belief that if I fully devoted myself to God, I would never stumble, nor should I. That the word "broken" strictly belonged to the nonbelievers, the lost and the lonely. 

Side note: These beautiful words just came up on my Spotify: 

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin' so small

Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they'll soon discover
That I don't belong

So I tuck it all away, like everything's okay
If I make them all believe it, maybe I'll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way that I see them

Coinciding with those lyrics, I hope we can all admit that at some point that confession has been one of familiarity. If I felt broken, I felt undeserving to be sitting with a church pamphlet resting on my lap. These seats are reserved for those that have it all together. If at any given moment I felt a sense of incompletion, I felt unworthy. "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." 2 Corinthians 12:9

Hey friends, breathe. You don't have to have it all together. In fact, the scripture reveals the weaker you are, the greater His power. 

Testimony after testimony, I heard the word "broken" out of Christians' mouths, even in sharing my own. We all struggle. Hypocrisy makes an appearance beacause of this. "How can you all be living your life for God if you do that?" 

We mess up, Christian or not:

-We gossip

-We judge

-We're quick to anger

-We're slow to forgiveness 

-We indulge ourselves with idols

-We compare ourselves to others

We're humans living in this broken world and we are all broken. 

The inspiration for this blog post came from the song "Broken Together" by Casting Crowns:

Maybe you and I were never meant to be complete
Could we just be broken together
If you can bring your shattered dreams and I'll bring mine
Could healing still be spoken and save us
The only way well last forever is broken together

Come to God. Bring your troubles, your baggage, your shame, your brokenness. And the awareness of this will lead to many tears and lots of snot, FYI. 

"Come, let us return to the Lord. For He has torn us, but He will heal us; He has wounded us, but He will bandage us." Hosea 6:1 

Let's be broken together. 

seventy-two hours.

I had a great, great weekend.

I wanted to write all about it but instead, I decided to do something different and more visual. Keep in mind that I don't own a nice camera, so enjoy my weekend pictures via iPhone.

Friday, February 14:

Valentine's Dayyyyy! I'm just going to say it: I like it. I watched countless college boys scurry across campus with flowers in their hands and that's just adorable. But this Valentine's Day was extra special (maybe because I actually had plans). Now I'm going to take time to brag on our Midcampus men (Midcampus is the community group I'm in with The Rock). Every year for Valentine's Day, they all get together and plan a special dinner for the ladies. It isn't a casual setting either. Since this is my first year, it was my first experience.

getting all fancy in a college dorm because college.

 Get ready to say "awww":

they set the table all fancy like at Macaroni Grill.

so we colored #socollege

they served us like waiters, and ended up standing and eating.

The surprise dinner was a 3-course meal, including a spinach salad, pasta con broccoli and two choices for dessert. I had both. 

they gave all the ladies personalized sheets of paper, each with a different verse on them.

the gentlemen of Midcampus.

the ladies they worked hard for.

Dressing fancy is rare, so it needs to be documented.

ging.

my beautiful life group (missing Melissa Compton)



Overall, it was a fantastic night. They went above and beyond to make all of us ladies feel special. God has blessed me with so many wonderful Christian men in my life. 

Saturday, February 15th:

I started the day off getting in my car, lugging all of my dirty laundry and driving home. And when I was home, more driving. 

I attended a 50 year wedding anniversary. Again, how adorable? My beautiful mom and John were asked to perform a few songs:

And I got to see my cousins, which always fills my heart. 

Sunday, February 16th:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AUSTIN! He doesn't have Facebook but you have less than an hour to text him and make his day if you haven't already done so. He's the big 21. To celebrate his birthday and Nora's that is the 19th, the family went to Shoguns for dinner and a show. 

Thoughts: HOW IS SHE NINE ALREADY? :( I love that little girl so much. 

As for Austin...

Always a kid at heart. 

They had to dance for cheesecake (read above caption).

I am so lucky that one of my best friends is also my brother/role model. 

Well, that was my weekend. It was a hectic three days and I was always rushed to get from point A to point B, but it reminded me of how blessed I am. Wherever I go, I always leave with joy. 

"Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil." Ephesians 5:15-16

remember and rejoice. look ahead and trust.

Whoa! I can't believe January is already almost over. I hope everyone is having a great new year so far. I know I definitely am. It was incredibly refreshing to be able to spend time at home with my family, dogs and friends (coworkers are friends too). And my bed... Miss you lots already.

Now I'm back in Columbia, adjusting to my new routine, wondering if all of this craziness is the new norm now, starting my new job this week and living the dream, basically.

Through all of this exciting embracement of chaos, the one word always comes back to haunt me. That word is nostalgia.

The definition:
"A sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations."

This word has reigned over my life multiple times, specifically in one area of my life. Lately, my dad has been on my heart. I think partially due to the transition from school to home, then home to school. Regardless of the reasoning, I had my fair share of doubt and confusion.

Over Thanksgiving break, I was talking to one of my best friends about all of these changes making me sad. I had a serious "sentimental longing for the past". I explained to her how much I despise those feelings and she told me she was thankful for them. I was confused on her response, until recently, when I reflected on this. The most overused, cliché saying is one that I remind myself DAILY.

"Everything happens for a reason."

You can say it as many times as you want, but you're not going to believe it until you give thanks for your past, no matter how destructive it may be. (Side note: I saw something written with a permanent marker on a wall the other day that read, "Destruction is part of creation." Take that however you please but I thought it was so neat, and I've been thinking about it all week).

With that, I find peace in that 5-word phrase. Peace when I think about me wanting to be a nurse while my dad had cancer, then realizing it wasn't my calling, which led me to journalism. Peace that choosing journalism led me to Mizzou, which brought me to some of the best friendships I have. Peace that some of my most treasured relationships and truth revealed arose from heartache and destruction. The bigs things in our life to us are really small, broken up pieces that reveal how they fit together in beautiful, orderly unity. God is everything, even a scientist, mixing together your painful or joyful experiences, until it's perfected.

"When I'm lost in the mystery, to You my future is a memory, because You're already there."

If you spend too much time longing for what's over, you'll never be content. To think that someday I'll  look back and have nostalgic feelings for my college years, blows my mind. In perspective it's silly to be sad about, for it is shaping me into who I am now (and I'm LOVING it), and it's leading me to where I'm going next. I challenge you to do this, as I myself still need that reminder more times than I can count. Remember and rejoice. Look ahead and trust.

As for me,
"The memory of a righteous man shall be a blessing." Proverbs 10:7

A blessing. 

how much is too much?

Moderation.

We all know what it means. It's all about balance. We hear it a lot used in the context, "Do (activity) in moderation. Water the plant in moderation or else it will drown. Eat desserts in moderation or expect obesity. Study hard in moderation because a social life is a necessity.

Before college, I thought I had moderation down to the tee. Or in other words, my routine, in which I would go insane if it were ever disorganized. Here's a little glimpse of what my week would look like my senior year:

-Monday-Friday: go to school, come home and relax until work, work, homework, bed, repeat
-Saturday: sometimes work, but mostly my night for friends
-Sunday: church, God, family

Yep, I thought I had it all figured out. I mean, I'm making time for faith, family, friends and making some money too, I thought.

"Everything in moderation." That's such a silly phrase. A couple of months ago, my Rock pastor presented a visual, demonstrating how we should prioritze God in our lives. He started with a jar and on the side had some big rocks and a bucket of sand. He started by putting the sand (the busyness in our lives) in first and then the big rocks. You can guess that the rocks didn't fit. So then he put the big rocks in first (God, the important things) followed by the sand. I'll let you draw your own conclusions there.

Looking back, I know I wasn't trying to undervalue by relationship with God. But now to think that I made more time for salad tossing than time with God makes me experience feelings of shame. I don't regret it though; Valuable lesson are learned when I'm wrong.

So, somewhere along the way of shame to realization, time spent with God outnumbered anything else in my life. I have The Rock to give credit to for that. Here's a glimpse of what my freshman year of college looked like:

-Monday: life group (you're grouped with a few people from your community group of your same gender to meet weekly and "do life together"), Monday Night Worship (students from campus ministries get together to sing worship songs for a solid hour..IT'S AWESOME)
-Thursday: meeting with your community group to do bible study
-Friday: usually hanging out with community group (no, they are not Jesus, but the light that all of them carry with them is beautiful and encouraging in my own walk)
-Sunday: church!

That is a lot of Jesus. And that is a lot of time. It intimidated me, sometimes it drained me, but I always came back for more. 

Since I have been home for break, I feel as if the time I go by here is more than what I did at school. I HAVE SO MUCH OF IT. The other day, (actually twice now) I played Wii by myself. That's sheer boredom, but I am successfully on the path to saving Princess Peach. Other than that, I have been doing meaningful activities. Since the New Year year, I too made resolutions of my own. My two major ones are trying to stick with a plan for reading the Bible in a year and doing a 365-devotional with one of my best friends, Kim. I'm going to be completely honest when I say that rarely did I open the Bible for leisurely reading (not searching for a verse). And I've never stuck with a devotional before. So, after I completed day 4 today, I was spending time with my other best friend, Lauren. She had to go into the Family Christian Bookstore and I knew I was doomed. I always spend money on books, journals, Jesus things. As I was in there, we made the decision that we would do our 365-devotional and hold each other accountable. As I was roaming through my options, it was then when I asked myself, "Do I have time for this? How much is too much?"

MY FRIENDS ARE AWESOME.

My Faith pastor once said, "If you're too busy for God, you're too busy."

Do I have time for this? Lightbulb. That question I asked myself soon became I will find time for this. 

You see, there is no such thing as moderation when it comes to God. As C.S. Lewis said: "Why do I make room in my mind for such filth and nonsense." Everything in moderation? No. Some things in moderation. God always.

Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is. Ephesians 5:15-17

So, when I asked myself, "How much is too much?" I answered my own question: There is no such thing.