If a picture is worth a thousand words

I know I already posted a blog today. But one of the only things I've done today is read. This break will be one filled with crossing off titles on my "Must Read" list. So far so good.

I have absolutely LOVED reading this book Choosing to See by Mary Beth Chapman. Steven Curtis Chapman's wife. One of the best parts of it, is seeing Mary Beth quote her husband's lyrics all the time. She tells a story about something that happened in her life--their life-- and then the next page has the lyrics of a song that her husband wrote and recorded. Many of them I even know. It's just hilarious to me, and absolutely fantastic as a song writer myself, so hear the stories behind them.

I told my sister in the car Saturday, that being a songwriter has got to be one of thee best jobs. It's the kind of job that no matter what happens to you in your life, it can only enhance your occupation. Think about it... if you're going through a hard time, you only have more inspiration. If you're happy... that song will be like the budding of spring. If you're angry... isn't it better to sing a song about it than to punch someone in the face?

See what I mean? Songwriting is just fantastic. It's what I do, and I cannot wait for the next chapter of my life to unfold in song.

I can tell you a story about most every line I've ever written.

I also confided in my mother something I've been thinking of lately. Now I'm going to tell you. I need to marry a songwriter. I figured, this way, we would never be able to keep secrets from each other. I wouldn't believe you for a second if you were a songwriter -- a chronic songwriter like myself-- and told me you don't like to show someone, at least ONE person a new song for affirmation once you wrote it. I often don't have a solid opinion of a song until after I show at least my brother.

When I say "This song isn't about anyone in particular, it's more about the concept." I'm not lying... but it's maybe more the truth to say "The first line is about this person... the fourth line is about someone entirely different... the whole chorus came after I thought about this dude... and the bridge was about my sister."

In the end, I just admitted to thinking about a whole lot. A whole lot more than just "a concept." I could wave it off and say I wasn't thinking about something, when the lyrics music and melody testify solid facts proclaiming the opposite.

So I figured it'd be a great thing to marry a songwriter. Because when he shows me his new song, and tries to say "I wasn't really mad about that..." I'll have already heard what he means to say but didn't.

I like to think (my song I Like to Think So really is hilarious... because every word is completely my own and I say the same words all the time in everyday conversation) that my household will be full of songs when I'm married and have my own life going. My brother (Zach) and sisters (Caleigh and Soph) and I already sing our own songs at appropriate times, when they fit the situation.

I LOVE hearing Cal sing, "Oh oh oh oh oh oh, that's the boat I'm in," instead of saying "Me too."

So that's all I have to say. I love reading about songwriters, and I'm probably going to marry one. If I don't, then I need to come up with ways to interrogate.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, I can't imagine how many a song is worth.

Crammed too many books on my shelf

I've been blogging kinda of frequently in the last week. And yeah... it probably has to do with the fact that I haven't written a song for 9 days. Lyrics have been building up, and I've probably written a line or two a day, but music and melody are still on back order.

I've been reading a ton since I've been home. I'm on my 3rd book since walking through the doors of Williamsville.

I've been reading a number of biographies lately. I love books. Living with Trina in Greenville has only affirmed my obsession with reading and acquiring as much knowledge and wisdom as I can from the turning of hundreds of pages. I love knowing things. I love learning things. I love sharing things myself. And through that love of mine, I have such a respect for learning the things authors choose to share in their own books and stories.

Trina and I have bought so many books since the Fall. Our book shelves are completely full. I even wrote a line dedicated to our hilarious obsession in a song called My Side that I wrote in November. "Crammed too many books on my shelf." It is a negative line in light of the subject matter of the song, but it was meant to give a laugh to Trina. It did. So I was satisfied.

I believe I've said before, I learn so much more in sermons when pastors tell stories. Nothing encourages me more. Nothing grabs my attention more. I remember hearing stories that inspired me years and years ago. I still remember. They grab me, and hold on to me.

I remember hearing this woman, named Donna, speak at a YWAM thing while I was on a Missons trip in Louisiana. I was 15. I was absolutely under a spell every time she spoke. I heard every word. I don't think I missed one. I told her afterwards on one of the final days. She wasn't even a speaker for the week... she simply helped run things with her husband Mark. They were maybe middle age, or close to it. Her stories of God's faithfulness in her life just shook the very core of me. And I remember knowing God had revealed something to me through her. That someday I would be speaking. And someday people would be in the same seat I was in, as I was listening to her. But in stead of listening to Donna tell her stories, I'd be telling mine.

In some ways, that was hard to even type. I've always been terrified that I'd give people the wrong impression of me. That I'd give off an air that proclaims "I think I am all that."

In the past few years though, slowly I've shed that fear. Little by little. But it still grips me sometimes. Because I don't ever want to be that person. And being confidant... there is such a fine line between confidence and living a life full of pride.

But last month, I stepped on stage at Vespers. My Vespers team was about to lead worship. Once we finished, I walked towards the center of the stage. A mic tied behind my ear, my Bible and a bottle of water in my hands. And I spoke that night.

I've felt a stir in my heart. Nearly five years ago I had been inspired by Donna. I knew I'd be telling stories one day, and many days after that. I didn't know how or when it'd come. But I know today, as I'm now 20 years old, that promise is on the road to fruition. I don't know how, or when the next time will be. But I know that God had shown me a part of the future He has for me.

I told Donna what I had felt God speak to me that week in Louisiana. She listened to me intently, and though I was a skinny shrimp-like 15-year old, the look in her eye was so serious. Like what I was saying was as important as I felt her words were. It emboldened me. And she prayed over me, and that was that. I've never seen her since. But I've thought about her.

What I've realized is that reading other people's stories is so powerful. Reading this book, Choosing to See by Mary Beth Chapman (Go figure it's form Trina!:), has encouraged me so much. I feel like going out and buying every Christian biography there is. Because it lends so much perspective. When you read a book, you see the struggle, and then the outcome. The failing, and then the promise. The heartbreak, and then the healing. It's all only pages away. but in life, it could be years away. It's in slow motion, even though it seems like life just goes way too fast sometimes.

Read this book. I'm so serious... it's amazing. It's so encouraging. It's so real life. I love when people are real. I love when they're broken and honest enough to say it. Agh we're all idiots with broken hearts. But that was never a good enough reason to remain in the shadows of trees and leaves. We're all living stories of God's redeeming love and hope. Your story is important and speaks volumes. As the Body of Christ we all desperately need each other.

And no story is fully complete... Telling your story may be part of your story. Even if it feels incomplete. I suppose my blog is somewhat like telling my story. Even though it's in pieces.

But for real. Read that book.

Glazed

Last night my family went to see the new Narnia movie. It was fabulous. We grew up listening to my dad read the Narnia books to us before we went to bed. It's been exciting seeing the movies as a family. Last night we went to see Voyage of the Dawn Treader, all ten of us, in 3D.

We walked into the darkened theater, passing the box in which we'd toss our 3D glasses after the movie. As soon as the previews started, we realized it was already time to get on with stylin' the fancy glasses. After a moment of considering the fact that every single person in the theater already had the glasses on, I didn't feel to silly putting them on myself.

I'll admit, they weren't the easiest thing in the world on the stomach. Zach, sitting to my left had to take his off for a few minutes to close his eyes. I won't lie to you... the guy's got the softest stomach this side Wisconsin. Why I chose Wisconsin for this argument? I heard someone say Wisconsin in church today. It's kind of fun to say. So there, I said it.

There was a moment during the movie I decided to take my glasses off myself. It kind of hurt my head to see the 3D stuff. I'm proud to say my stomach was just fine. But my head hurt. My eyes felt strained. But I kept my eyes open, and attempted watching without the glasses.

But then I realized I couldn't even really see once I took them off. I couldn't see the screen clearly. It was rather blurry.

I decided it would probably do me the most good to just continue to wear the 3D glasses. It would have hurt even more to keep them off.

Last night when we got home, I sat down on Caleigh's bed... time and time again I realize I don't live in my own house anymore... I pulled out my Bible and read a bit, and pulled a pillow to my lap, and started writing in a journal. Writing my prayers out is one of the only ways I can keep focused when I spend time with God.

I pondered a few things... how desperately I needed God to change my heart on some things. You know the times I'm talking about... when you know perfectly well your heart is not in the right place. You know you're viewing someone with a glaze of disrespect, or judgment. Like the lenses we wear are coated with it.

Have you ever wondered how God does it? How He can look at us, through lenses coated with love, rather than disdain, disapproval and hate? Heck, it's not even like He sees through "lenses" as much as He simply sees through His eyes.

How I wish I could see through His eyes. How I wish my eyes were as clean as His.

I want to see through lenses of love. Lenses of mercy, and grace... joy, hope... I want to see that way.

Maybe I was still thinking about the 3D glasses or something when I considered all of this. It was quite a satisfying moment to toss the glasses in the recycling box when we walked out.

In the same way, seeing through lenses of love though, isn't always easy on the stomach... or the eyes. Or the head. Or the heart.

I think in fact, we might opt to simply remove the glasses, and close our eyes. It's better than the strain that comes along with viewing our surroundings through the glazed glass. It's not natural. It's confusing. It hurts.

When I took my glasses off last night, all the lines were blurry. I could figure out enough, but nothing was clear. Just a blur.

When I put them back on, it was relieving to be able to see clearly, even though the 3D-ness of it all was sometimes quite literally in my face, and less than comfortable for my eyes and head.

Isn't the love of God that way? To see through lenses of love... to see the things and people around us with a glaze of love on the glass in front of our eyes.

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it makes us feel sick. It's not natural. But when we remove them... everything gets blurry. And in the end we might end up even more sick than we would have been had we left the glasses on.

That's what I want... I want to see through Love, even if it hurts, and feels wrong, and makes the back of my head hurt. I want to see through them even though I might look silly in thick black frames that don't sit well on my nose, and leave marks between my eyes.

And so, the end of the story is this- the movie was great. I loved it. And I want to reread all of the books again. That said, I'm going to go on and enjoy this snowy afternoon with another book, and maybe a cup of tea.

Got milk?

Merry Christmas!

Ahh... there is no holiday like Christmas. I feel oddly aloof this year. I suppose this is just a time in my life where it literally feels like the whole world is staring at me, and waiting for my next move... I'm about to enter the New Year. The year that practically has me wearing a blindfold. I only know that one thing will happen: I'll graduate. I'll graduate from college. The number 20 is still a little flimsy, like the halo on the angel that keeps falling off. I've seen that ornament a few times this year. If you don't know what I'm talking about, nevermind.

So, I just turned 20. No more teens. I'm quite alright with that. But with that comes a future I didn't meet head on yet. I noticed something tonight... as a very reflective person, Christmas and the New Year literally bombard me with realizations. I'm practically on my knees under the load that hits me every year. The whole year unfolds like a Giant Red Carpet, expecting me to understand every lesson I've learned, every answer I asked for and didn't ask for... and then expecting me to walk down it calmly into the new year. 2011. Have mercy.

What is hilarious, is things don't make sense until they're over. Allow me to explain. It's like we're eating this crazy rich chocolate pie... and we desperately need milk. For some reason, we end up needing to finish the whole plate before we get the milk. By that point, we feel sick, and sarcastically accept the glass of white liquid with an eye-roll that clearly and impatiently reveals our frustration as if to say, "Nice of you to show up, Pal."

What if we didn't even want the pie? What if we were already full? What if we weren't in the mood for pie? There's nothing more unsatisfying than trying to satisfy hunger with that which we weren't even craving. What if we weren't even hungry, and just wanted a drink? Then what?

Life's like that. Sometimes it makes us sick.

And sometimes the refreshment doesn't even feel refreshing by the time we get it.

And so one more week remains of 2010. I've said it before... I like to live life, and feel every bruise, every pain, every hurt as fully as possibly. As fully as I feel every moment full of joy, and love, and hope. Like holding on to a rope that's being pulled with fierce speed through my enclosed fingers... leaving behind the blood and burn of holding on. I'd rather say I felt every piece of the rope.

The same is true tonight. Christmas always humbles me. Always breaks me. Always leaves me full.

And then the milk comes.

The answers I waited for... all through the year, they come back to me at once. And all at once I look back on them.

I think I know how Santa must feel at the end of his Christmas journey... another cookie and he just might explode.

So I've got my "milk" to wash down the rest of the year. Even though some swigs might feel long over due.

Merry Christmas world. God is so good. So so good. Like a fire after a chill. Like a breeze in the heat. Like a Savior to the World. Like a baby in a manger. What a beautiful day.

Join me

I think I've said before sometimes I don't write very often... at least it seems that way. The number on the right side of my blog show the truth... I've been consistently writing less.

But the truth is, I've been writing more than I have written in a long time. I either write music or blogs... and songs have not been short supply lately. It's extremely refreshing.

I suppose the difference might have to do with the people I've been around. More and more I've been with songwriters. Hanging with them. Showing and telling songs. When I ask them "Whatcha up to?" and their responses are "Ehh messing with a song"... It makes me jealous. Makes me want to be the one who's writing the song. And more times than not, by the end of the day I've written a song too.

It's led me to realize how crucial a concept it is to pay attention to the people who surround ourselves with. The influence is unmistakable.

When I'm on the outside, it's so easy to see it clearly. On the inside, it just looks like I'm losing interest (or availability) to write blogs. But on the outside, I can see the one hand full of blogs, and the other hand overflowing with music and songs and lyrics. I'll tell you I've been completely overwhelmed in so many ways this semester. I'm hardly speaking of academics. There are things I would never even think of writing in a blog. There are things I would never articulate to the public's ear through even lyrics. And I settle for a melody that sounds like the lilts of the aches I feel inside me instead. Then it's heard... though I never said it.

Anyway, I've been pushed and encouraged by my songwriting friends to press more into my own songwriting. One of my friends told me the other day he gets jealous of how often I write. I laughed... because I felt the same about him when he tells me he's writing a song.

The people we're around push us to be like them. The bubble you're in doesn't let much else in... unless the bubble is willing to be popped. Think about it... if anything else enters a bubble... it pops.

I think of my little sisters playing with bubbles on hot summer days. Out playing in the sprinklers... towels thrown all over the lawn. The bubbles fly all over the air, and every now and then they pop against the leaves and concrete... even against the water praying out of the sprinkler. It's like this... bubbles are made out of soap and water right? Well, even if more of the same tries to "enter the bubble," (like water)... it pops.

I think in churches it's extremely necessary for a pastor to set the temperature for the rest of the people. I think a pastor has the most impacting role in a church. If a pastor is negative, then negativity is what's filling the ears and hearts of his congregation. And if he speaks blessings and life into his congregation, then that's what they're filled with. What they're filled with is what comes out of them.

I'm not talking about any church in particular. I'm not alluding to anything going on or not going on in my own home church. I just naturally associate things with churches since I'm involved in ministry and stuff like that.

When a church family talks nonstop about pursuing God and a life sold out to the Lord, it eggs everyone else on. When a pastor is constantly after God and after a deeper relationship with God, it sets the scene for everyone else to do the same.

Something I hate, literally hate, is when a paster seems to make himself like God. Someone who has no more left to go on journey of faith and life as a Christian. When a pastor teaches out of his heart, and comes across like, "See everyone? Be like me." I get so frustrated. I love seeing pastors who teach as a leader... as someone who is saying something more like, "Join me!" than "Be like me." There's a huge difference.

I like being around people who have a "join me" mentality. It's really cool. That's all I got for ya today.

And PS... any songwriters reading this... don't get jealous like I do of you... just join me.

Leaf piles

Dark dove chocolate. It's what fills my mouth right now. Smooth, sweet, deliciousness. What fills my head right now is anything but smooth and sweet.

Finals week. I'm more blessed than I realize I know, since all my exams are not really exams this week. Last week was hell week for me. Music majors seem to have the brunt of pressure the week before finals. Juries, performances, practices, and when all projects and things of the like are due. I'm amazed I never lost my voice. Good thing too. I passed everything in my jury:)

I need to just focus my thoughts right now. Rearrange my mind. It's like my thoughts are spread out like fallen leaves off a tree. If I want to enjoy those leaves, I'd only hurt myself if I jumped into them before they were all gathered together. Imagine that... you know in my urgency to get on with it, I might even try to get a running start. And lo. What a painful time for a tailbone. I don't recommend trying it. I've experience. Metaphorically. It's better to jump into a pile of leaves that will cushion your fall a little better than 3 or 4 on the cold, hard ground.

So this is my attempt to get my thoughts together.

So strange is it to consider this is my last time in college in December. My last finals week for the Fall semester. SO strange this time next year I don't even know for sure where I'll be. Although you may or may not have heard that I may be looking at some positions in Nashville once I'm graduated. Songwriting man. It's gotta give. Let's hope.

There are a great many things I'm looking forward to. Like going home in three days. We're not going back to Jersey till Friday since we're going to be recording likely on Thursday. Heck it might end up being Friday as well, and then leaving for Jerz on Saturday. That's exciting. To get to have some nicer recordings. Better demoish stuff when we meet with some song pluggers and producers. Good stuff. Exciting stuff. I'm so ready for it. So ready.

This is a point in my life I'm absolutely baffled by. I wrote a song a few years ago with the line "The world's at my feet, so why am I stuck to my seat?" And right now, I'm sort of seeing a similar portrait. The world is at my feet. But I don't feel stuck to my seat. I'm 20, and graduating in a few very short months. I can do, be whatever I want. I can go home. I can live in my dearest New Jersey and have a great job teaching all those kids I adore. Be with my friends and family. I can go to grad school instead of doing it all online. I can not do grad school if I don't want to... which is becoming a little more attractive to me lately. I just keep thinking, "Why?" If what I want to do is music... why? At this point, the answers I have for that question aren't the ones that satisfy. They might satisfy a culture I don't really like very much. The culture that frowns upon a lot of things I do. If Culture were a face, I'd slap both cheeks in a very fluid and forceful manner.

What it looks like I'm going to be doing is this: finishing this year, my senior year at Greenville College with some of the best people on the planet. Then home for the summer. I've toyed with an internship in Nashville... highly recommended before trying to get a job down there... but it just might not work out that way. So right now, I'm thinking home and work for the summer. And then getting down to business down there. Nashville. Zach and me. Right now, that's what's going through my head. I just need to go after it. The world's at my feet. And I'm standing on them. And one of them needs to start walking in front of the other. We'll see where God leads 'em.

So this is the beginning of my pile of leaves. Kinda feeling blisters the way a rake leaves it's mark after raking for a while.

On to writing some papers. Thanks for jumping in the leaves with me.

I really am tired

I cannot believe I'm awake. This day has been anything but kind to me, at least that's how it felt by the time I gathered my exhausted self into bed. That was about an hour ago. It's becoming all too familiar.

I'm somewhat of an insomniac. I do not understand how it is so much easier to take naps in the middle of the day than it is to sleep when my body is trained to sleep. Go figure.

What stumps me is this: I can't sleep. But that doesn't mean I'm not tired. I am a wreck of fatigue. I'm too tired to study any more. I'm hardly able to keep my eyes open. But sleep just won't come.

So I'm an insomniac, but that doesn't mean I'm not tired.

I feel like I've had very similar thoughts a number of times before... but just a little rearranged.

Coming to college so far away from my home challenged me a lot. You can go ahead and say, "Well honey, it's because you were homeschooled. You never saw the world." But I could kick that stereo type in the butt... I hate hearing that assumption, even though it's true my world was different than other worlds. But, it's interesting being at a Christian college and seeing the things I do. Hearing the things I do.

Something I've learned, is everyone has got their beef. Everyone has their thing they wrestle with. The things I've struggled with, and do struggle with people might never guess. And the same is true of me and others... I might have never guessed that that girl seriously struggled with bulimia for 4 years. I might not have noticed that guy over there got busted for using. I don't know if I'd have bought it if you told me someone has a certain collection of magazines behind all the school books that his girlfriend would be absolutely devastated to find.

It's not that I think every guy is a pig, and every girl a whore. It's not that at all. It's more that I can see the truth in people. The good, even though there's some struggles going on.

Like I said, people might be shocked to find out some things about me. But less and less am I surprised by things I hear about other people.

Because just like I'm an insomniac who's tired, so are so many people changed but still not perfect.

I'm changed, but it doesn't mean I'm perfect.

I'm forgiven but it doesn't mean I'm done fighting.

I'm found, but it doesn't mean I know where I am.

I'm awake but it doesn't mean my eyes are open.

I keep thinking about that passage that Paul says how much he despises knowing what the right thing to do is, and then not doing it. Sometimes we know what we should do, and we hate to do the opposite, yet that's exactly what we do.

Judging a book by its cover is a cliche and therefore in my mind a disgusting saying. And saying you can't judge food by how it smells is altogether a terrible attempt at a new metaphor, since I am the pickiest person ever and I will argue that you can in fact judge food by its smell. Even though people try to tell me otherwise. Fools.

Even still... I'll say it this way... the images we see are only images. What you see might be what you get if you stand far away. If I stand far away from my lunch, all I get is the smell. All I get is what it looks like. Maybe. But if I'm close, I might even get to taste it.

I'm seeing that in other people. What ya see is what ya get if you're too far away to get any more.

But if you're close enough you find out that "I'm a mess. But it doesn't mean I'm not trying."

Enough judging, guys. We're all in the same boat. We just might be too far away to even notice that.

And I'm an insomniac. But that doesn't mean I'm not tired.

Wish me luck.

Firewood

Tonight Lindsay Allen and I worked out and chatted... it's been a while since we got to just talk. We're both intense and deep people who just love to be with people. And hug people:) Anyway, I was just so blessed to just spend some time with her.

As sweat lined my upper lip, and she looked at the ceiling in the agony of her workout, we tossed out the things we've been thinking about, praying about... ticked out... impatient about. Ahhh I love friends.

Most people who know me well know my tongue could propel a boat with a broken motor probably better than the motor itself. I can talk a lot. I don't always, but baby, get me started on a good day, and you're doomed. But the great thing is, Lindsay loves to listen, and she loves to talk as well. And I love to listen. I love conversation. I love connecting with people. I love hearing someone's heart. Honesty is so beyond beautiful, I can't explain it. I love it.

God reminded me of a lot of things He's been teaching me and showing me lately.

A while ago, there was this man at my church. He approached my dad one day, and said, "I woke up this morning, and felt like the Lord just wanted me to bless someone with some sort of gift, and firewood came to my head. I know you sell firewood, so I thought I'd come to you."

He began asking my dad for his prices and what not. It was in the middle of Winter, and firewood sounded like a pretty good idea... warm fires for some family in the church.



And somewhere in that conversation, my family's finances came up.

Now, my family is huge. Eight kids. Two parents. Four people in college at the same time. Things certainly get rough.

End of the story consists of that man taking out his wallet and saying to my dad, "You're the one I'm supposed to give to."

And that was that.

What astounds me, is not just how beautiful his gift was to my dad and my family, but also the misinterpretation he had in the first place, which is what led him to what God's actual intension was.

He said he just kept thinking firewood... he interpreted that as buying firewood for someone... not that the firewood would lead him to the person God was leading him to.

So in my own life, I keep thinking of a few things I feel entirely lost with. I mentally bang my head against the wall, and ball up my fists, and press my teeth together to keep from screaming. Didn't God reveal something to me already? Didn't He speak to me? Didn't I hear Him right? Why isn't it working out?

And so tonight, I've been reminded... In times when I feel like God told me something, but the "X" does anything but "mark the spot" in my life, I really might not have misunderstood. I may have misinterpreted, but I did hear Him.

I keep wanting to throw away so many things I held so close to my heart. So many things I thought God had given me... revealed to me. The inspiration He's planted so firmly in me. I'm disgusted with the fact that the "X" I thought I'd come to, to "mark the spot," is really a huge "L" planted perfectly on my forehead.

So that man at church went after the firewood. But the firewood wasn't the end zone... it was on the way. He heard God correctly. It just wasn't the end of the story.

And so, here I am 10 days away from completing my next to last semester in college. Ever. What confusing bliss is this! While I'm slowly absorbing the answers to many of my coming exams, I feel quite distant to the answers I felt I already had in my walk with God, and in life in general.

But then again, I might be only looking at firewood. And firewood isn't always the end of the story.

Sometimes my own comprehension doesn't go as deep as God's intent does. Actually, let's just say it like it is-- my own comprehension never goes as deep as God's intent. But the reality is, I might not have misunderstood. And that is enough to give me some relief in this world of ridiculous unanswered questions.

Sometimes we just have to follow to see where the firewood takes us. Maybe it is the "X" we've been waiting to dig up. Or maybe it's just along the way to what's still to come.

For that man, the detail of the firewood was extremely important. And it is for us too. It's crucial. It's all part of the story.

So if you're discouraged, and upset that things just aren't matching up yet, don't fret chum:) If you're ready to throw away your whole idea you had, don't do it yet. It just might be your firewood that's along the way. And it's crucial. It's important. Don't throw it away. I won't either.

Evidence

I'm sitting on my bed. Trina is sitting next to me, and Marta (Our big lamp in the middle of the room) is shining sweetly. I have Berkley (my small green lamp on my bed) on as well. It is roommate reading time. But we're on our computers right now.

We have less than two weeks left of class. In fact I have 12 days. And come this time next week, I'll be done the nerve wracking parts with presentations and juries and all of that wonder. I'll also be gearing up for St. Louis with my people and on our way to go swing dancing!

I don't really have many deep thoughts. I'm in a very focused mood... it will likely last me until I'm on my way home to Jersey for Christmas break. And then the real partying begins. Williams style. I just adore my family. I loved being home with everyone for Thanksgiving.

Trina and I just discussed one of our favorite people at Greenville. Rick the Janitor. He's just awesome. He always says hello, and when you get talking with him, you realize he's just hilarious, and you walk away forgetting your have a crazy day ahead of you. I love moments like that. Rick, you are the man.

Drinking water is great. I've started to notice huge differences in myself when I don't drink enough. What's really funny, is once you know what it's like to drink a ton of water-- and by a ton, I mean like 100 ounces a day. You think I'm kidding you-- you suddenly have an heightened sense of thirst when you don't drink as much.

I sing for hours everyday. I'm a voice major, and practicing for my senior recital. I'm also in a band, and do my own solo stuff with my brother. I'm also in the Greenville College choir, and Chamber singers. Last night our choir rehearsal was over three hours. Tomorrow will be the same. I drink a lot of water. For my voice, and also because I love being healthy. And I feel great when I drink water. I'm a health nut baby.

But how peculiar... I didn't really notice what thirst is like till I seasoned myself with being completely hydrated all day.

I think the same is true of so many things in life. We don't know what it's like to lack something until we know what the loss actually is. The difference is quite evident.

When I don't drink water, suddenly I recognize the drought in my mouth as well as my head. I just feel wilted.

And when I realize what my own confusion, and frustration stems from.. it just makes sense. When I don't have so much time with God... I don't always realize the evidence. Until I recognize the difference. And the lines drawn perfectly to the point.

The last weeks of a semester always throw me off. You'd think I'd be more prepared for the next time it comes. Well, now it's roommate reading time. More later:)

Bears, beets, balancing your budget

This is the Office parody my COR 401 group made for our Common Day of Learning presentation today. I gotta say, even though that class was a pain in the behind, our group was awesome.

What's goin' down in Williams' Town

Being Home for Thanksgiving is completely fabulous. I adore my family so much it hurts. I love fighting with everyone else in the house to get a few intelligent words in to my mom. I love the dorky things my siblings do. I love getting to share what's been going down in Gville. It's just so refreshing.

Today is Olivia's 9th birthday. She's my "twin" in the family. We look the most alike, and act the most alike. It's adorable, and I adore her.

Last night I got to spend some time with one of my best friends, Laura. Laura got engaged on Sunday afternoon, which I cannot contain my excitement about. It was so great to get to spend some time with her and Ben last night. We had our first sleepover last night, which is rather odd since we've been such great friends for so long. It was grand.

I got to spend some time with another best girl, Bi on Monday night. She slept over my place. My life is hilarious. I hate when people leave, so I do pretty much anything to prevent it. I sleep on the floor if I have to. I love being home, and I love my family and my amazing friends.

I've been tutoring a lot this week, which is very cool and I am very thankful for the opportunity to do that since I've been tutoring on Skype all semester. It's really nice to be in person this week. Fab!

There are a lot of thoughts going on in my head, and I would love to type them all out so I can read them myself and maybe get a better idea of what they even mean... but I have to go get some errands run for me mater. That's Latin:)

Anyway, more to come, cross my heart.

Peanut butter

And so, I've set the mood. The lights are turned off. All except Monroe, my adorable purple little lamp on my desk. I've turned my tiny red fan on; the one I can't sleep without. My face is washed. I'm ready for bed.

But lately, I've been in serious need to dispense my thoughts somewhere. I am still in a verbal drought. I speak when I need to. I just don't feel like talking too much. So, so much in going on in this crazy-haired head of mine. And I've been journaling like a fool. It feels wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. So refreshing. Completely relieving. And so I've decided I must blog.

Tonight I confessed to my mom I feel I have no wisdom. I feel as though I cannot trust my own sense. Yeah, I've kinda gotten pretty down. Her response was somewhat strange, and actually really right on. She told me I'm just seeing the fragility of my own heart.

I keep remembering the line in How Great the Father's Love for Us. "I will not boast in anything, no gifts no power, no wisdom." I keep thinking to myself, "Well, no issues there, cause I'm feeling a little bit of a void in those areas anyway."

So now, I kinda look at myself, and see the situation. I'm fragile, and frail. And when my weaknesses are clear, I feel no room for strength.

I don't like wondering if this is one of the times in my life I'll look back and say, "Yup. THAT was a hard time." I don't like realizing that it is in fact, a difficult time. I like to think that everything is peachy. Most of the time, I find more than one reason to answer "Everything has been awesome!" to the question, "How've you been?"

But then I look again... I am so frail.

Today I read 1 Timothy 4:2, that says "Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage- with great patience and careful instruction."

Hmmm... I guess right now might be an out of season time.

Out of season is an unlucky time. When you bite into an apple that's out of season (I know this so well...) , it's just not the kind of moment you wish you could relive. When I get apples that are out of season, I have to eat them with peanut butter. It's the only way I can get it down. Otherwise, they're sour, and grainy, and just not good.

I feel like the spoon full of life I take everyday has been like an apple out of season. To get it down, I've needed Jesus so much. Anything to help me down the bitter taste of an unlucky time. So yes, I just compared Jesus to peanut butter. But I'm not asking you to judge me. I'm not really asking much of anything. I'm just typing.

So, this is the scene: apple in hand, peanut butter close by. In the end, I'll have been nourished, and full.

And I compare this again to my life. Another spoon full of life, and Jesus close by. In the end, He will not send me away empty, but walk on with me, filled to overflowing.

I'm funny

For all of you who think I'm too serious and deep for my own good, please know that I am in real life, indeed a nut. So true, to the point that this clip is- in my bullet-proof opinion- completely fabulous.






LOVE Dave Barnes.

My Dad's story

I don't think I've blogged very much about this, but this is my dad's story from June 15th 2009. The 700 Club did a story on him, and here it is:)

The sounds and silences of depths

I should be heading to the DC (dining commons) right now. It's only open for another 45 minutes. But I feel like writing. I need to stop ushering the urges to the back of my mind. I'm just going to write, and trust that being faithful to my love of writing will give back to me some sort of rest in my head before I live the rest of my day.

Last night was Julia Markotay's Senior Recital. She was my accompanist last year, and the choir accompanist. I've never known a more talented pianist. She is a musician in every form of the way. I know my fingers could never work the way hers do. She is utterly devastatingly beautiful head to toe, and her music speaks for her the sounds of her own unspeakable depths. I've always called "depth" that which is inside of you. The things you can't say. The things that can only exist.

I've always wondered if there were a world behind the eyes, a place that shows the emotion that moves you. Maybe it's a place that looks like a beautiful meadow. Maybe it's a river. Don't mock me for this people, it's been in my head for years. I've always imagined what my "depth" would look like. I've written so many poems and lyrics about it. My depth. What does it look like?

And then, from a musician's standpoint, what does it sound like?

I've always pondered this. When I'm about to write a song, I always try to tune myself into what I'm really feeling. Music makes you feel something. But there are times that "something" makes you feel music. And so the times that "somethings" cause me to feel something, I try to wait patiently to when I'll know exactly the music it makes me feel. The music that I can sense.

It's the music I believe would be playing in the air above the specific scene in my depth at that moment. When I'm heartbroken, the gems that line the floor of the rivers flowing there lose a little bit of the blue green color that matches my eyes. Everything is reflective of what I am. My hair is crazy, and so are the branches of the trees, and the spiraling of the leaves that fall.

And so, returning to last night, I felt like Julia played from the innermost parts of her depth. She felt each note, each chord, each rest. Even the silences were unmistakably musical. And perfectly beautiful.

When I have my own house, it will be full of sweet and lovely smelling candles, and full of music.

I am a CCM major mind you. But, I have become a victim of falling in love with something I never thought possible. Classical music moves me so powerfully now, I can't help but immerse myself in it. I LOVE singing in German, French and Italian especially of course. I love the random notes that after studying them, are anything but random. They're entirely purposeful, and incredible with such scores of meaning. I love being able to tell you the story I'm singing with my eyes and the emotion in my (less than perfect) classical voice. Singing classical music makes me feel like I'm breathing. Sometimes flying. It's times like these that I get sad that I'll be done rather soon. I want to keep mastering the ways to use my voice. I want to keep learning how to play the piano. I want to be the best composer I could possibly be. I want it all. I don't want it to end.

Julia's recital put me in my place for my own Senior Recital coming in February. I've been planning and practicing what feels like nonstop this semester. In fact I have a practice today for the four songs I'll be doing with a strings section. Tomorrow I'll be practicing with one of the Quartets for a hymn in the first half of the recital. Wednesday I'll be practicing one of the duets. Ahhhh, what am I going to do when it's over? All this time... your entire four years as a music major are dedicated to this one recital. And just like that, in a matter of minutes upon minutes, it's over.

So part of me feels relieved to have just written all of this. I'm going to end it now. I'm hungry.

Ropes

I have not written enough lately. It affects me when I don't write. I feel like a bottle shaken up. I'm gonna burst and get all sticky if I don't just force myself to write. I don't know what I'm gonna write about, but I'm at least writing.

These last few weeks have been a little on the difficult side. I feel like God's been nailing me time after time with another curve ball after I just got socked a second ago. Like we're in a mega game of dodgeball, and my shoes melted to the pavement. I can't tell whether i should just try to cover my face so I don't get too deformed, or if I should try to move.

I'm in the middle of it all. Things I've been thinking about and dealing with. I can't tell you any revelations because they haven't exactly come yet.

I don't really see the light in the dark at the moment. But that's ok. Because it's just a story. In fact, if my life were a book, I'd probably be hooked.

On a side note, I wouldn't mind my life being a book, because if it were, I'd probably have a little more of a clue what's going on down here. When you read a book, you know the people you're rooting for. You're on the main character's side more often than not, and you gain an outside perspective even though that character may be confused.

Even though that character keeps getting nailed in the gut with a dodgeball, you know she'll make it out ok. Even though she just feels the loss of wind from her lungs at the impact of what she's enduring, you already see how she's changing and growing.

I'm not sure who I'd be if I were in a supporting role in someone else's story. If people would be rooting for me, or I'd be the one that the readers would say, "Ugh, I can't stand that girl." But hey, on a lighter note, I'd be the one to make the story exciting.

I love to read. My thoughts sound like narrations sometimes. I write in journals all the time, and write like I'm writing a novel. It releases me. I'm free when I do that. Like I'm writing a song, but I don't need to be vague. I can just say it.

I haven't written a song since I write my last one Why Don't You. I think Zach and I are gonna play it on Tuesday at our show in the Blackroom. Psyched for that, man. Like I said, I'm in the middle of whatever this season is in the life is Shai. I haven't figured out the inspiring closing lines of the chapter. I don't really have much to say. Once I do, you'll hear it in a song, I promise.

I haven't even really felt like talking much. That is really weird for me. Don't get me wrong. I am not depressed. I'm still around people all the time, and thrive off of other people being around me. I just don't really feel like talking about myself or things I'm thinking about. I feel like those thoughts don't make sense yet.

The fact is, I'm still standing. In the imaginary world of this wild game of dodgeball, I'm feeling every blow, but I'm not going down. I don't intend to.

It's one of those times, those stressful times I look around at all the people here at Greenville that mean so much to me, and I get so sad about leaving them all for good in only 6 months. Can you believe that? I'll be done college in only 6 months. Sons of freaking guns. The fact that this semester is coming closer to it's end is making me a little nostalgic.

I love change. I love getting on with it. No use dragging your feet in life. I get impatient. I get genuinely excited for new things in life. But I'm also too deep for my own well being at times. I'm extremely sentimental and reflective. I don't like ropes of time to just slip through open hands. I like to feel the ropes of time passing through my fingers at the same speed they would have passed had my hands been open. Sometimes I hold so tightly the friction burns my hands. And even though the burns can bleed, I feel satisfied because I felt it all. I lived it all. And it hurt. But it was worth it.

So I guess I can say the ropes are burning my hands at the moment. The pain is firing through me. I'm hardly numb. I feel it 100%. I don't want to live and not feel the ropes of time pass through hands that don't hold on to anything. I just want to live my life. I don't want my life to live me, I want to be the one who lives.

Cold feet

You know what I've discovered? I hate the common. I hate the old. I hate when fresh turns stale.

There are morning I wake up and my hands feel dry. Sometimes my feet do too. I really don't like it. It's disheartening. My socks don't always protect my toes from the bite of the night. Stale. Cold feet. Having no relation to anxiety whatsoever. Limp. I hate it.

I hate when I use the washing machines here at Greenville, and my black shirts might as well be gray. I like it bright. I like it bold. Those darn machines chew my colors pale.

Some of the most disappointing moments come after I spend a lot of time on my appearance. I spend the day feeling like my face and hair is still quite as perfect as it was hours before when I put the straightener away and closed the tube in my mascara... all to find the primping deflated throughout the day and I look rather... normal.

Common. Nothing special. Ordinary. Pale. Lame.

I hate when my faith becomes common. Common itself is sickeningly unexciting. It's easy to say. It rolls of the tongue because you hardly even need a tongue to say it, and it lets your lips be lazy. As a vocal major, I've learned well the easy sounds to make. An "m" is as close to a resting point as you can get.

I'm in the part of my semester that everything blends together, and I just can't wait to catch up to Thanksgiving, and finally get a break. I'm tired. I took an hour and a half nap today. I'm still tired. I have so much to do, but I don't really want to do it. There are so many things going on, and even though they're exciting things sometimes, I don't really care. The days have become common. I go to the same classes. I wake up at the same time everyday. I wear the same shoes, and tie a scarf around my tan-less neck and walk out the door with my bag full of books. I sing for hours, and come home and suck on a cough drop to try to soothe the hard working vocal cords. I drink a ton of water. Shower. Aghh everything is just so common!

The thing that pricks me like open eyes at 6 am, is that God calls us to be uncommon. Because He is out of this world. He is NOT common. Common is unexciting, and ordinary. But the entire concept of being a Christian is the most indescribable thing. And I don't even know what to do with the weight of the common in life. I don't want a common life. I don't like common moments. I don't like the "same old." It's boring. It's unfulfilling really. It's a sorry excuse. It's blind eyes in a world of vibrance. It's sick.

I don't want to be common. That's all.

Firm through the fiercest drought and storm

There is nothing like hearing hundreds of people worship together. This is a video from Vespers last week when my band led worship. We ended the first set with In Christ Alone. Not gonna lie, it was inspired by Adam Young from Owl City. I posted his version of this song last week. With the fourth verse, the people just sang, and it absolutely moves me. Hearing the voices lifted up, harmonies and all. It's just beautiful.

This little light of mine

Love is unmistakable. It changes everything. You wake up in the morning and your alarm upsets the perfect motions of your sleepy dreams. You roll over and collect your consciousness. What day is it? Oh yeah... gotta do that... gotta go there... gotta do this... Oh wait! He loves me:)

That day don't seem so bad no more.

I've been going through my days lately, just walking. Class to class. Walking out of the DC (dining commons), on to the practice rooms. Stop at the Union because I just realized I'm hungry. And I'll get that feeling. Like I'm forgetting something. Like I know I was excited about something. A vague memory. Like it was a dream I had the night before. I'll wait for the nagging feeling to unmask itself. Then I remember. I have his love. Mmmm:)

I wrote a song a while ago called "Once We Loved" about how love is like lighting a candle. I'd always thought of love through the metaphor that my love lights a candle that he carries around wherever he goes. And his love lights a candle in me that I take with me everywhere.



It may sound cliché, but the love of God has freaking freaked me out to the point that it is all I can think about. He is the love I've wanted all my life. The love I've looked for in other people, finding the search fruitless at best. The endless searches for it that leave me frustrated, hurt, and angry. And I've known Christ all this while, too.

Do you realize what it means to say we are created by God and for God? That we have an innate desire for God? I never realized the fullness of these statements. Until this week.

"God, I just want to love someone. Someone who will let me love him, too."

And He says, "Oh, hey!"

And I keep going...

"I want someone to talk to and collect my thoughts for during the day so I can enjoy even the lousy parts of my day because I know I'll get to talk about them to him."

And He says, "Yeah, wouldn't that be cool..."

"I just want to wake up in the morning and have all frustrated and annoyed thoughts for the day ahead completely dissipate when I remember I'm holding his candle, lit well in the hands of my heart."

And He says, "You think you're the first one to think of it that way... You're cute Shai."

And I ramble on and on.

And yes. Sometimes the Voice of God is quite sarcastic in my head.

So if that dialogue confused you... let me break it down.

I'm single. I'm not really into being upset about stuff like singleness. I love life, and living no matter who I'm with or without. But there are times that I get frustrated. Didn't God make me with specific desires? Like the desire to freaking not be single? Haha... oh I miss the point so often!! So so soooooo often!

Get this. Drill it into yourself like sandpaper grinding your skin. That's a kinda uncomfortable visual, but I mean it.

We are genetically, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually, everything-ly programmed to desire God. He made us FOR HIMSELF. We're like magnets. No matter what we will draw to the opposite property. We will attract. We will be pulled, and torn towards the opposite. Magnets.

So in the times I go to God with my "wants and desires" or what I call a "need," basically His response could always be,

"Yup. That's because you want ME. I'M what you want Shaina Joy. It's ME."

The things we desire in life are miniatures of what We're programmed to crave. What we're made to want. WHO we're made for.

It came to me while I was babbling to God. I stopped for a second. I held my hands, one cupped around the other, my left thumb crossed over my right. Sitting on a piano bench.

"God? I want you."

Daaaaaang. The reason I want to love someone is because I want God. The reason I want someone to love me is because I want God. The reason I want a family is because I want God. The reason I want to play music is because I want God. The reason I want to write a thousand songs a day is because I want God. The reason I love to sing is because I want God. The reason I love to be with people is because I want God.

Every single answer is because I want God. Every reason. Because I am made BY God FOR God. It fuels everything in and about me. And then I wonder why I get disappointed sometimes with other things... because of my innate desire for God. Nothing else will freaking do.

There are times I come to God with tears tying up my throat in a hot fist as I break to say, "Look God, it's broken." My expectations shattered. In my disappointment, I can't even see that the reason I'm disappointed is because I subconsciously compare everything to Him.

Everything ends up the same way... everything I want and desire is summed up in God. Everything I say I "want" is an earthly imitation of what I really want. God.

And so... I want God. And I even get to carry around His candle, lit by His love.

John 1:9 says that the true Light came into the world who gives light to every man. And He gave us His light. And now we're the Light of the world.

So I want Him. And I hold His candle. And I wake up in the morning and remember I have His love. And everything I do that gets me excited, and everything I see that makes me sad because I don't have something, makes me overwhelmed with how much I just want God. Hmmm...

He's got my candle, too.

Every petal pulled

He watched as she walked away. Each footstep sounding as an aching thump of the beating of his heart. Further and further away, deeper and deeper the rhythm of the swell in his chest.

Days fell like leaves off a chilly tree in Fall. Every afternoon he'd go outside and sit on his front porch steps. He'd bring a bundle of flowers out with him, and he'd pull off one petal at a time. Most people pull off the petals of a flower and flip flop between "she loves me" and "she loves me not." But he played that game a little differently. With every petal he pulled he said "I love her." People would drive by his house, and see flower petals cover the steps.



It didn't have anything to do with whether she loved him or loved him not. He remembered her name, and never wavered in his love for her. She didn't even keep up with him. She figured it was easier that way. He knew it was harder. But he didn't argue. He was relentless, but she didn't really notice.

His friends told him to give up. He was hurting himself. He was thrown off balance. He was one of the most balanced people. It was proof this whole thing wasn't worth it. It made him moody. His jealousy over the people who got to spend time with her threw him in helpless spells. The people who knew him best knew he was too good for her. She didn't even remember him. She tried not to. Someone like him... he didn't deserve that. Everyone saw it and knew he shouldn't wait for even the slimmest possibility of a future with that girl. The fact that the chance was slim anyway should have been reason enough to let go.

Every morning, she was first on his mind. He'd talk about her, remembering how she looked when she smiled. How she sounded when she laughed. How good she felt to have under his arm. With only his memories as companions, it's how he lived his days. Everything was in preparation for when she'd come back. He prayed she would. Even the possibility... the mere maybe... kept him so sure his efforts were not in vain. Every petal he pulled in pure patience and pursuit. Every petal he pulled in love.

Every now and then he'd hear how she was doing. He knew that even though she was entertaining ideas of other guys, he was the one she wanted. He knew he was the one she dreamed of. He knew it was only a matter of time. He would not settle for lost hope. He'd be there when she realized it. He'd be there not to say, "I told you so," but "I told you I loved you."





Hmmmm. What a story, huh? I think we've all been through a time in our lives when we hold on to something we should just let go. Everyone around us observes, and gives their professional diagnoses.

"You're just hurting yourself."

"You're not acting like yourself, it's not good for you."

"I care about you. I don't want to see you hurt."

People that know us best. They know when we get thrown off balance. They have wisdom over us, because they know us so well.

Maybe you've gone through a similar situation with a guy or a girl. You wanted that one person so bad. Nothing could stop you form waiting for that one. But then reality sets in. People around you get in your face to say they just can't stand seeing you that way... they're not gonna stand for someone hurting you anymore. You cave... and... it feels good. To be released of such pressure and hopeless pursuit in your heart. You come to peace with the fact that you gave a good fight. You can only feel good that you did try. And now it's time to just go on and live your life. Your life starts to come back together. Your head isn't so fogged up. You can pay attention to other things. The beat of your heart is musical again, not an echo of deafeningly heartbreaking footsteps.

So think of that situation. More than likely, it was a good decision for you to move on. Starting new. Like washing the sleep out of your eyes in the morning so you can see clearly. It was a good decision.

No consider this. We were the people God should have forgotten about. I'll say it more directly... I was the one He should have moved on from. I was the one who threw Him off balance. He's a really balanced Dude people... everyone around can see that I was the one He should have cleansed His morning eyes from. He deserved better. He wouldn't lack a thing without me.

It goes against all reason. It really does. Only in this point in my life have I realized this. I come to the crossroads. I look at the path ahead... it's so long, it's so narrow. I feel the full weight of the loads I carry, and wonder if I should leave some behind. Anything to lighten the weight... I have so far yet to go. And people around me affirm my suspicions. I'm better off a little lighter. They surround me in love. They want me to be happy. They want me to be balanced. Loved in return for love.

So... regardless of any decisions I have to make, I understand the impossible decision He made for me in a way that completely humiliates me. Completely breaks me. Completely overwhelms me. I messed Him up. He even gave up His life. Everyone could see He deserved better than me. I wonder how many times He was told I wasn't worth it. We're such a hideous match... Him and me. It doesn't take a magnifying glass to see it! You could see it from light years away, because He's still visible... and no one would even notice me. Talk about an awkward couple. Gross.

But against all reason. He held out.

Last night I sat at the piano. Room 138, once again. My fingers pressed on keys I'd touched hundreds of times. And really, it wasn't a strike of lightening or anything. But the truth descended on me like something I had always known. It didn't land on me like bricks. It was peaceful. He was what I wanted.

I knew the sayings. I heard the quotes. I sang them myself. Absent minded to the unreachable truth made tangible to our broken hands. God made us for Himself. He made us to desire Him. What we desire here on earth is but a reflection. We're so messed up; we go to Him and say, "God, I want this so bad... " But really, we want Him. Having lived in this world my whole life, I confuse the two. My impatience for earthly dreams to come true blinds me.

And what's hilarious, is we don't even have a chance to be impatient with God... we already have Him.

Imagine walking alone in the middle of a street, below a thick canopy of trees overhead. Every leaf struggling to burst brighter with crispy and perfect vibrancy. And as you're walking through the tunnel of natural shelter, leaves begin to fall. You're caught up in the swirl of color. They keep coming, absolutely bathing you in the fabulous celebration. And each leaf plucked by the fingers of God, as He says, "I love you," and drops it on you.



Receive it. You're the one who messed with His head, who everyone could see deserved so much more... but He never gave up on you. When maybe He should have. But He didn't. So when you're walking outside today, and leaves are falling all around you, remember they're His little game of "I love you" and not "you love me" and "you love me not." With every petal He pulls, every leaf detached... against all reason, means He loves you. Bask in it. And be refreshed. I feel like my whole life is changed, because of such revelations of love from our God. Gosh. I'm stumped. And I love Fall.

Messed up

Why do I blog? It's true I just plain love to write. I'm a talker. I could talk about anything... but then when I'm tired of talking, writing takes it for me. I love it.

I have to say, I've been really touched by some e-mails I've gotten from people I've never met before, who've read my blogs and were touched by them. Things like that make my day to say the very least. It's awesome to hear feedback. And really humbling too.

Here is a blog that I love to read. Click the title of this blog....


You may have heard of Owl City... that guy can make the most disgusting words sound like audible honey. It's amazing. He's extremely talented, and I love his music. He recorded In Christ Alone, and put it on his blog this week, and reading through the responses he got from people was really just incredible to me. I just think it's staggeringly beautiful how much of an impact he can make on people.

Music is such a powerful thing. Music literally rules our generation. I really admire the way Adam (Owl City...) uses his music to express himself, and then still uses it to blatantly praise the Lord in the presence of his extremely diverse fan base. I love that his music is the core of who he is. As in, he uses it to express the smallest and most secret places in his depth. Music. It's what he does. It's what he is. And so he uses it, and shares it, even if it's uncomfortable for those who don't fully understand it.

I love how honest, and transparent music makes people. I don't think I could be offended by music when it's so honest... I'll rephrase that... I don't think I could disrespect anyone's music as long as it's honest and transparent.

As a writer and musician I have oodles of respect for other writers and musicians. It's language. It's a dialect that not every nation could interpret collectively the same way, but it has power to move you.

If you are reading this, and you've read other blogs of mine, you may know I'm a huge nerd. That's fine. I hope it's not a shock to you that I'm about to get a little nerdier in my next statement.... music moves us on a molecular level. Stay with me... it literally changes us molecularly. How insane is that? It's crazy. It's wonderful. Completely fantastic. It can move you.

I heard a guest speaker in one of my classes say it this way, "Music rearranges our molecules." It's the literal truth. No fancy talk to try to describe how music is mind boggling. It's simply the truth.

Music can mess me up. Seriously... I could be in the worst mood, and it'll change my very state. I'll forget why I was mad. Or the contrary, I could be feverishly happy, and all of a sudden, completely solemn. Messed up. It messes with me. I kinda love it.

Last night in Keyboard Ensemble, I was terrified. I practice... I really do. But Pirates of the Caribbean scares me. It's an arrangement of the theme song of the movies... GORGEOUS. But I openly recognize I am NOT a piano major, and would never have the guts to be one. I sing. My finger are mere fingers. Stubby ones at that. Anyway, we were supposed to be ready to do the entire piece last night at practice. I wasn't ready. The time signature stumped me every time. Let alone the notes.

But then when we all started playing, the whole thing made sense. No we didn't get through the whole thing. But there was a moment in the music.... somewhere around measure 30 or so... that heavily pulled me into the emotion of the music. I don't know what the chord was, but it was beautiful. It was like my fingers body surfed the music freely as if I were rolling with the waves back home at the Jersey shore. All 9 of us playing together. Adding to the motion of the music. I loved it. I'm not so terrified anymore. Unless Stampfli (prof) makes me play my part by myself. Then I'll be sweating bullets.

As Jorge Casas (pop theory prof... plays bass for Gloria Estefan. How cool is that?) would say, music theory makes sense. It makes sense on an emotional level. It makes you feel something.

When we practice our ear training for pop theory (recognizing things by ear), he always tells us to memorize how it makes us feel. If we can recognize it, we'd have no issues saying, "I'm feelin' it man. That's a Bb half diminished chord." And so on...

So this is my rant for the day so far.

I love music. And please listen to In Christ Alone on the Owl City blog. You will love it.

Chasing leprechauns

Absolutely saddening, isn't it? I've blogged about half as much as I usually do lately.

But don't go on thinking I'm out of inspiration these days. Silly people... my inspiration has merely taken a musical frame lately. I've been writing songs like a machine. It's been fabulous. So refreshing.

I'm sitting in room 138 in Whitlock. It's been my practice room in the past few days. It's also the room I've written The Boat I'm In, and Why Don't You my newest songs as of the past 24 hours. I'm waiting for the recording of Why Don't You to send to Zach so he can yay or nay. Moses (the internet at Greenville...) is really slow. I mean we're not making anything up. Moses was slow of speech. Our Gville Moses is terrible. Maybe we should get an Aaron to help us out, because it's killing me.

So, I'll just babble for a little while. I'll talk about the new songs. The Boat I'm In is inspired by a random text message from a friend of mine. He asked me if I had written any songs over the weekend. The answer was no at that point. I described writer's block in my favorite way: a stomach virus. It's a grotesque metaphor, I understand that. But it's just become how I describe it. You know when you're about to vomit. And I knew I wasn't about to toss nothin' in relation to songs. So his response was, "yeah that's the boat I'm in for sure." I was sitting at my desk. Study lamp turned on (his name is Berkley), Music in Worship textbook turned open to where I was willing myself to read. Highlighters lined the open notebook, a pencil here, a pen there. I looked at the text message. My head cocked to the side. I think. Emotionally it did.

I had to cut the convo short. I was inspired. This is extremely dangerous. when it comes to sharing inspiration with another songwriter, unless you're about ready to cowrite, and share the glory (I'm kidding I hope you know)... you keep your mouth shut.

I opened a drawer and pulled out one of my many journals. This little black book is what I use for writing poems, lyrics and whatever comes to mind. I scribbled a few thoughts. Mapping out the course of this possible song. I grabbed my phone and recorded a few lines so I didn't forget the rhythm I was feeling, or the melodic hook.

And that was it.

Then I had another idea, so I scribbled that one down too.

Then I went back to studying, and met a friend to do so.

After, I went right to the practice rooms. And I sat down at the piano bench thats right in front of me as I type. And I wrote The Boat I'm In.

It's a fun, kinda quirky song. I like it. It's fine by me. Not my best, but I was happy with it.

So I studied some more when I got back to my room just in time before the storm hit. I literally had only minutes to spare. I cleaned my desk up, and brushed my teeth. Washed my face. Made my to-do list for today, and finally surrendered to my purple covers to achieve the coveted slumber my roommate was already embracing. I lay staring at the ceiling. The shadows on the walls stared at me. I pulled the covers under my head to try to reposition... I had so much to do in only hours. It wasn't funny. I had to sleep. You don't understand... sleep is so important to me. I might be a night owl, but I'm good for nothing when I'm tired. I, being the mature college senior I am, realize this. But it's not even something to dub "easier said than done." No no no. *Clears throat* no. (I'm quoting Tarzan. If you knew that, you're officially the coolest person ever) Sleep is like a little leprechaun that you can never capture. The stinkin' sprite is a devil.

Somewhere in between the restlessness, a melody sang in my head. It was so random. But gentle. Like a wish were floating in the spring air, and landed in my crazy wild hair. I know that sounded silly. I don't care. It even rhymed and I didn't do it on purpose. You've probably noticed my writing right now is slightly spastic.

So. I reached for my cell phone under my pillow (it's also my alarm clock), and held my breath for a second. I knew if I didn't record it, it could leave me forever. This is serious. I liked the melody. I wanted it. I wanted to use it. The ideas were already shaping in my head. But my voice was hardly a whisper. If it were anything more I could have wakened sweet Trina Cherie sleeping peacefully across the room (I was so jealous but my love for her won out). So I whispered/sung the melody into my phone. Listened to make sure I'd even be able to hear it come morning, and went to bed. And I think I fell asleep at some point, because I woke up this morning.

So lo! I started writing the song today, and revisited the same practice room several times, and it is completed and recorded. And sent to Zachary's inbox. Praise the Lord!

And now I'm done. I think I'm gonna go try to catch a leprechaun. I'm genuinely exhausted. Ever hear the Italians and the Irish don't mix? Tell me about it.

Peripheral vision

Have you ever just gazed up at the deep glowing blues of the sky after the moon's taken it's place over your head? In the Fall fresh air, breathed in the scent of newness, even though it's really the opposite for the leaves that create a runway for our feet? A taste that's almost eatable. Like you can get full from simply breathing outside. The stars spot the darkness, leaving it anything but. Your eyes move around; you spot the Big Dipper, and search in vain for the Little Dipper. Your vision moves over the flawless space crowding above you, but you stop when you see something in the corner of your eye.

And then you quickly flash your sight backward... and it's gone. You focus your eyes somewhere else, and see it again in the corner. No matter how many times, you can't catch it within your focus... that bundle of stars that's out every night. It's bright. It's beautiful. Why the heck can't you see it when you look exactly for it?



Have you ever seen this guy? He's called Omega Centauri. He's a lot more faint in our night sky than this picture, but he's a star cluster. A cluster of millions of stars held together. I'd go into the whole science of it because I'm just so amazed by it, but I'll save it.

What's hilarious about Omega Centauri, is it's so far away, you can only just barely see it with your naked eye. Every time I go running at night, I will myself to see it more clearly. But I have to focus elsewhere and look at it only through the corner of my vision. It's too far away to see it clearly when I try to focus.

Sometimes I feel like that about God. I try so hard to focus on Him. But sometimes He's just so far away... even though I know He's there. Sometimes I think I see Him out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn around, He's gone.

When I'm on my late night runs, sometimes I feel like I'm running into space. Living among stalks of corn does crazy things to you, and also gives the sky so much more space than the Jersey Pine Barrens do. I've gotten to the point where I've realized if I want to see this faint cluster of stars, I have to be willing to see it through my peripheral vision.

It's so difficult to see Him sometimes. He has to show Himself to us through other things.

So in my peripheral vision, I saw God yesterday. As cliche as it sounds, it was during worship last night at a young adult's service. You'd think I was focusing on God... well, I was trying. But it felt like I was running into space. Every time I looked right where I knew He was, it was like I couldn't find Him. Instead, I was hit by another sight, that I could see and decipher perfectly.

"Here I stand, knowing that I'm your desire." Majesty. I've sung this song a million times. I could play it with my eyes closed. But the funny thing is, my focus shifted.

To know that I'm someone's desire. I started flipping through memories like they were pictures in a scrapbook. Emotions took turns in my heart like I was changing my clothes a thousand times in front of the mirror in search of the perfect outfit. Hmmm... to know I'm someone's desire. With that knowledge comes such freedom. Such safety.

I remember times I felt so perfectly wanted, I knew my own returned pursuits would be welcomed and completely accepted. I knew I could move forward, and relax- relish in the fragrance of being wanted.

Since we were young, we've known what it feels like. Especially when it comes to romantic relationships, the thought always crosses our minds, "I don't know if he likes me though..." We reel our pursuit back in if our bait of affection is unreturned. But lo... if we should find the interest is mutual... well hot dog! We love so freely when we know we are loved.

So I kept turning the pages of my thoughts until I caught something in the corner of my eye. I couldn't see it when I tried to focus on it.. or Him rather.

Funny how to get me to see Him, my Lord has to set me up to see Him through focusing on something else.

I hold my love back. From my Jesus. From the one who couldn't get me out of His head every moment He walked on earth. From the One who couldn't stop thinking of me, just couldn't stop thinking about me... to the point my face was in His perfect focus all the way to His death. I use a fishing line with only piece of my heart that can fit on a manmade hook. I toss my line out to Him, when He's been reeling me in before I even came into this world.

It's like He stands there with a sign that screams, "I LOVE you Shaina Joy!" And it's sincere, and genuine. It's not that random dude that is after you that bugs the crap out of you and dreams of the day that he jerkishly says, "I knew you'd fall for me." Lame. No no no... He rejoices over us. The most genuine Lover... He's made it known. He's in love with me. In love with you. And our love is welcome. We can go crazy in love, in the wildest pursuit you could imagine. And no confusion or drama is even possible, because His "love never fails." And He stays "the same through the ages," and His "love never changes." Like the other songs we sang last night.

And so, I saw Him last night in my peripheral vision. I wasn't focusing on Him... I was trying to. So far away... it's so difficult sometimes.

But what Love. It keeps filling my head.

Don't forget that He loves you. And that you can act in the freedom that His love is made known, and not only that... but it won't change. You can chase Him... love Him wildly and recklessly. Relax in the fact that He's not the arrogant "I told you so" kind of no-goods... He's the one who receives your love perfectly, and still has buckets and buckets of love to rain down on you yet.

And all this out of the corner of my eye. On this side of heaven. I can't wait till we get on the flipside!

4 seconds

Well hello!

Time has slowed just long enough for me to take a few minutes to write. Homecoming week has been awesome. Extremely busy and slightly stressful, yes. But fabulous all the same. Homecoming dance last night! Kirstie, Taryn, Leslee and I made everyone jealous with our incredible dancing abilities. It's hard to believe we're white.

Up until this week, I've felt like my music had taken a little bit more of a backseat in the drive of the semester. I'm always writing, so it wasn't that music wasn't happening. I just had not performed in a while. This week, aside from singing Italian love songs for a student recital, I got to play with Zach in the Blackroom twice! It was so refreshing, and exciting to play some songs I wrote over the Summer, and some from last semester that Zach and I worked on.

I believe I blogged about writing my song Away back in May. We played this song both Tuesday and Friday, and had a lovely time doing so. Here's a clip from Tuesday!



Getting back into performing a little bit has been crazy awesome for me. It's easy to forget how much it gets me going. You know the times when you're so hungry you don't even want food anymore? And then you start to eat, and you're unstoppable? Yeah. I know that feeling when it comes to my music. It's not that I forget entirely about it. I just get a little dull and grey in the slowed motions. I keep writing, but don't perfect things. And then when I finally get to perform... it's to a land of no return for at least a little while.

Tuesday night was just an Open Mic night in the Blackroom, and we played Away and I Dare the Rain. Friday night we played with Four Ways Left, and the Backyard Pirates. Fun times! We played Too Much, Let Me Know (Zach is a beast), Somebody (First time playing it out whoo hoo!), and Away.

I guess I've just been on a high since getting to play Friday especially, even though we certainly did not give our best performance... but you get over it. So yesterday, after sleeping in for the first time in what seemed like weeks, it struck. I've used this analogy before... when you're about to puke, you know it's coming. You have about 4 seconds to get to the bathroom before it's all over. Well, when a song is coming to me, it's pretty similar. I usually have a little more than a few seconds though to get to a piano or guitar though.

Anyway, Zach soon joined me and we wrote a duet called The One I Want. I am currently quite infatuated with this song... I had started humming the melody and the hook last week while I was in Disney. I had recorded it on my phone as quietly as I could in one of the transportation buses between parks. When I tried to listen to it, I could just barely hear it at all. Well, all you first year music majors who feel like your life is ending over and over again with Ear Training 101, don't despair. It could save a you a song you couldn't hear on your phone because you were too chicken to break out into an obnoxious musical sitting next to strangers on a bus. I remember tracing the intervals in my head when I was humming it last week, and was able to retrace it till I remembered it. All those deaths pay off every now and then:)

So The One I Want is the latest. I love duets, and I love singing with Zach. So next show, I think it's safe to say we'll probably do that one.

One thing. I miss Cal. Cause she Zach and I make music 100 times better than just Zach and I which is already 100 times better than just me. Thanksgiving, you will be embraced with many songs!

Until then, I think time will be occupied quite nicely. Life is just fabulous. I love college. I can't believe I'm really done next Spring. Alright, one thing at a time. Laundry. Yeah... gotta get on that....

A token

It is so late. But I'm up anyway, a paper left undone, and my face only just washed to let myself know the end is in sight.

I haven't blogged for over a week. Usually that means I'm either busy, or I just can't get my words right. I think this is a mixture of both. And I'm forcing myself to just write. So this will be short, but I need to get the ball rolling on my thoughts.

Trina came "home" tonight and told me something. It made us both quiet in contemplation. Without getting into it, this issue if you will, has been something on my mind for the past month or so. I just kept feeling a burden on my heart. I had never had to deal with a certain situation, and I wondered what I'd do if I had to. And now, knock knock... and behind door number one... exactly what I've contemplated for weeks. Completely random! And going back to a blog I wrote a few weeks ago, when something is on my heart, I'm only sharing in what is on God's heart. We only borrow from what is already on His heart. Like we're given but a token of the wealth that is inside the heart of God.

So, I guess I'm testifying that this is true over again. I think God has been preparing me for this new thing. Yes I know I am being extremely vague.

So that's all. I'm taking a few thoughts to bed with me tonight. 1) God is crafty. 2) I'm really tired. And 3) I really hope my test in the morning doesn't kick the whole day in the butt. Oh. There's a fourth. I hope this paper doesn't take too much more than the slim time I have between classes in the morning. Yep. That about does it.

True to my word

As I said, here is Something to Say by Starfield from Vespers last week. You gotta watch it... at least listen. Kinda dark. But so good.




You might notice if you listened the last time I posted this song, the words are a little different. You'll hear them. "I've got something to say, I'll give you all the glory in the rain..." It was so powerful. It IS so powerful. You might not be able to see when the three people were coming down the aisles, but they were carrying crosses, and each of their "demons" were fighting with them the entire way down. And then the last guy had all three wrestling against him.

The first guy's demon had a bottle of pills, the second had a mirror, and the third had alcohol. When I start struggling with my own issues, I confess, I rarely remember that I'm really fighting the Enemy himself. The demon on my shoulder isn't just a silly saying. We're living in a world where darkness is the chief instructor. And every time we try to carry our cross, to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling", doesn't it make sense that we're fighting with a truckload of power against us? Doesn't it make sense that the Enemy knows our weaknesses and will scheme accordingly?

This was so powerful to me... to be able to give God all the glory in the rain. In my rain of my own sweat when I try as hard as I can to get the demons to shut up and leave me be. Gosh, it takes everything sometimes.

So whatever you're dealing with, wherever the rain is coming from, be it from above or from what you're scared of, don't give in. Don't give in. Keep pressing forward. You are coated in the blood of Jesus, and whatever demons you have on your shoulders can't get inside. You don't even have to have something to say to give Him all the glory in the rain. Bah! That's all I've got.

Mmmmmm

I should be asleep. In all honesty, I wish I were. I've studied so much this weekend, and finally feel semi-ready for my Music History exam tomorrow at 8 am. I'm just tired. And so much is on my mind. So much more than the origin and evolution of Gregorian chant and the history of polyphony.

Two weeks ago, I was finally able to go to my floor's Bible study. Our Vespers practices are at the same time every week. Slightly frustrating. But oh, the wonder of a small(ish) group of Christians coming together, and sharing, talking about what's going on in our lives, what God is doing, what we feel He's not doing... all in the midst of a study guide we go off of. It was so refreshing. One of the girls, Becky, said something that's stayed with me. She said, "I went to God, and said, 'She's been on my heart, God.'" Talking about a girl she had been praying for. And then she said. "Then I felt like God said to me, 'She was already on mine.'"

Mmmmm. How precious that is. That when we have someone or something on our hearts, it's really probably just something we're just sharing a burden on with God. I'd never thought of it that way. But what truth in that!

So, tonight, I admit to being kind of confused. This isn't exactly a week that I've felt like I know where I'm going and what's going on. This isn't a moment my face is naturally turned towards the sun, and for more reasons than the fact that it's night time. The scarf wrapped around my shoulders is symbolic not only of the fact that I'm a little chilly in this October air, but also of my own sense of feeling like a child wrapped in clothes too big. Silly Shai. Scarves are worn around your neck, not like a sweater over your shoulders.

My prayers tonight are more like the ones that sound like sighs. The "Mmmmmm"'s that come out of a tired, thoughtful, and contemplative spirit. The things that are on my heart, too long to articulate. And in my fatigue of maybe silly things, He comes back to me. "That was on my heart, too."

Because I'm on His heart. Because I'm always on His heart.

So I sit here. On the floor of my square dorm in Tenny Hall. My socked feet stretched out over a blue blanket on the floor. My Bible opened to Psalm 86:11, where it says, "Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name." My random strands of blondish brown hair wound up in different directions because they're as confused about whether they're waves or curls, as I am about so many things that sail in the torrents of cascading theories in my head.

But I think I'll take my "Mmmmmm"'s to sleep with me, knowing I'm sharing in what's already on His heart. Me. The things I'm thinking about. The things I'm worried about. The doggone exams I have tomorrow. The things yet to do. The things left undone. Me. He shares it all. Mmmmmm.

Stop that!

Devotions with Trina have become one of my absolute favorite things lately. It's mind blowing. It's incredible to have such a relationship with someone. Who I can be honest with, and pray with. We started praying together when we turn off Marta (our biggest lamp, not to be confused with Lucille and Berkley and Monroe, the others) before we go to bed. And we decided to do it in the morning together too, since we have the same schedules, and typically wake up at the same times everyday.

Going through the book of Ruth with Trina has been completely different than I was expecting. I've read this little book so many times. It's about a woman, it's short. It's pretty easy to read. Good choice when I'm at a loss of what to read.

What astounds me about the Word of God, is it just keeps speaking. It's alive. Every time we sit down to do devotions, I feel like I'm coming back to a sponge I already twisted and crushed, collecting every last bit of moisture, of knowledge and wisdom that could have been in it. And then I find after only a little while that the sponge was only collecting from an ocean that goes on and on and on. I just can't get enough. It's stressful! I can't get enough. How fantastic!

Last night Trina and I watched the movie To Save A Life. It was actually really good. Second rate acting, but it wasn't too distracting. In fact, I thought they all did a pretty good job. But it got Train and I talking about a few things late into the night. And how perfect... our devotions this morning lined up perfectly with what we talked about last night. God is sneaky...

Anyway, some things I'v noticed abut the character of Ruth... she was boldly selfless. A simple statement, right? Well, how often do we see those two words acting together? The truth is, I don't think I've really seen too many examples of that. When someone is bold, it kind of seems like the attention is drawn to that person. And when someone is selfless, it seems like the common truth is that there is a quiet essence to someone who is selfless. These people don't seem to be under the spotlight of surroundings eyes.

I think Christians misinterpret things a lot. Selflessness doesn't always mean silence. Ruth was so outright about what she believed, and the things she dagnabit was gonna do.

Something that drew my attention today was how Ruth demonstrated her love for Naomi. The way she did it. John 15:13 talks about the greatest kind of love: laying down your life for someone. Philippians 2:4 says to think of others above yourself. We read through several different translations of these verses, and it was like cleaning out our ears to hear better and better after each repetition. Ruth gave up her life in Moab, where she would be welcomed and no doubt taken care of by her own people. She laid down her life, in exchange for her life with Naomi. She thought of Naomi better than herself. A translation we read today used the words, "giving others the advantage." That word was like a ball of sticky tack thrown in my face. I could only think about it. Giving others the advantage.

Going deeper into that, Ruth was not affirmed to do this. To deny herself the right to go back home to Moab instead of going to Judah with Naomi. Naomi kept telling her not to stay with her. When I think of what I would have done in that situation, I think of how much words mean to me. If someone who I respect kept telling me to do one thing, and I was attempting the opposite, I'd be in serious turmoil. My desire to please Naomi would have rocked me. And then consider how Ruth was not affirmed after she had made her decision. The scripture doesn't say that Naomi said, "Oh Ruth! Thank you so much for staying with me. It means so much to me." It basically says that Naomi gave up arguing. I can't imagine that being a very uplifting and reassuring reaction. Naomi basically expressing defeat.

What I'm saying, is I would have struggled to cross Naomi. To do what she told me not to do. And even if I believed I was doing the "right" thing, I would have likely second guessed myself at Naomi's pursuit of getting me to do something completely opposite.

If someone told me, "Stop that!" I would feel such pressure to abide. If I decided not to listen, hearing the, "Stop that! STOP THAT! STOP THAT!!" and not listening to it would bruise me, and be so difficult for me.

But Ruth made her decision, and denied herself the advantage to return to Moab, even though Naomi didn't see it as an advantage to have Ruth with her. Ruth carried through anyway. I think thats incredible. So much strength in character, that even when tried and bent to do something different, Ruth still saw clearly.

And so yet another thing I've felt challenged with... giving others the advantage, even when I'm not affirmed for it. Even when they don't realize I've chosen to receive the disadvantage at their expense. Being bold and outright about the way I'm going to be. Whew!

Ok... more studying. This week is gonna be a doozie.