Living Life Out Loud

Rathbun's for Restaurant Week

2011-04-04T09:52:00.000-05:00

I'll have my cake and eat it, too.

2011-04-04T09:50:00.000-05:00

Piedmont Park on a Saturday in April

2011-04-04T09:48:00.000-05:00

A horse is a horse of course of course...

2011-04-02T10:48:00.000-05:00

Atlanta Fair

2011-04-02T10:43:00.000-05:00

Roswell, GA

2011-04-02T10:37:00.000-05:00

I'm older than ancient, apparently.

2011-01-19T10:06:00.001-06:00

Teenagers have no filter when it comes to some things and their perspective is priceless. Yesterday was a perfect example of this when a wonderful, kind and normal 17-year-old exclaimed...

"Whooooa...I'm gonna have kids waaaaay before 28 - that's ancient!!"

Are we having fun yet?

2011-01-12T18:19:00.000-06:00

Exhibit No. 1: Click here.

Exhibit No. 2: See below.

Snowlanta!

2011-01-12T15:03:00.002-06:00

It's the third day in a row that students are out of school, classes are already cancelled for tomorrow and people are encouraged not to drive. The main streets melted and aren't so bad, but the side streets are still ice rinks. I walked to the Chastain Park with my camera and was as far from the bumper cars as possible, wondering what was so important that so many people had to drive.

The best part about wandering around an icy, hilly golf course: sliding down the hills on my bum. The 5-inches of snow is now covered by such a thick layer of ice that it was actually easier and safer to sit down and slide all over on my bum instead of try to walk. And, of course, it was way more fun.

Here are some pictures...oh, and what's your best suggestion for the last photo of the television? Yes, a television. Definitely the not something I expected to see on the pedestrian path.

Got Skates?

2011-01-12T10:16:00.001-06:00

For my northern friends, snow and ice are a regular part of life. We're used salt trucks, pre-treated roads and turning into the skid. However, for Atlanta and those other parts of the country where these white flakes don't often fall from the sky, especially in such mass, it's more of a novelty. And on top of that novelty, we were lucky enough to get a freezing drizzle all day followed by temperatures in the 20s. Needless to say, Atlanta is closed.

However, that did not stop one person from figuring out the best way to get down the busiest and well-known non-highway road in this city.

The Prodigal God

2011-01-11T10:43:00.007-06:00

I could probably count the number of books I've recommended on my blog on one hand. And today, I'd like to add another to the list:

A Prodigal God by Tim Keller

prodigal |ˈprädigəl

adjective

1 spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant : prodigal habits die hard.

2 having or giving something on a lavish scale : the dessert was crunchy with brown sugar and prodigal with whipped cream. See note at profuse .

This book has radically rocked my way of looking at one of the most familiar parables Jesus tells. And I'm fairly certain that it will do the same for you.

Snow Days

2011-01-10T12:53:00.000-06:00

Little white flakes falling from the skies create some of the best memories. I woke up to 3-4" of snow in Atlanta. Yup, Atlanta, GA. It doesn't do this all that often in this neck of the woods, so it's pretty much a big mess...but it sure is a fun mess!

Jane, Ashley and I walked up the street to Chastain Park to find a parade of families using the closest golf course for their own personal sled hill. And it was awesome! We even asked some boys if we could use their sled for one ride while they were distracted by a snowball fight. And that was even more awesome.

I couldn't help but be reminded of some of the best snow memories ever...

Shoveling the side yard

Yes, you read that right. In the mid-'80s, one of our favorite winter past times was building snow forts next to the driveway. My parents would encourage us to shovel all of the snow into the biggest pile we could make. We did. It was probably their sneaky little trick to get us to shovel the entire driveway seeing as they bought a snow blower after we left for college, but we still had a great time. The forts were incredible! Of course, they were the best and biggest forts ever. I know we built at least one that included tunnels, tunnels that seemed dozens of feet long and were so high I actually stood up inside at least once (um...OK, I so I was unusually short as a young child, but it was still impressive in our world). Well, during one snowfall we didn't think we had enough snow. So, of course, we took the saucer sled and carried shoveled snow from our entire lawn to the pile next to the driveway. I'm pretty sure that we were the only people with green-looking grass in the middle of a snow storm. We were the envy of the neighborhood.

Cold Days

Growing up in Chicago, I had school canceled in the same calendar year for it being too hot and too cold. Yes, the temperature. I went to an old, brick high school with no air-conditioning, and during a summer class, we had classes canceled after too many days of 100something-degree heat. But that's another story. Back to the cold.

Three out of four Januarys, we had cold days. When the wind chill hit -40-degrees, it was deemed too dangerous for an elementary school child to walk to school or wait for a school bus. Therefore, the district shut down. WIN! Freshmen year, cold weather postponed finals for a week. Junior year, I thought it was a brilliant idea for this to be the one night I ever lied to my parents about where I was going, not factoring in the problem that cars don't always start in such cold weather. I remember sitting in that parking lot making deals with God about how if my car did start, I would never lie again. It started. (Mom & Dad...if you're reading this, remember that it 15 years ago and know that it wasn't illegal.)

Senior year, I was much smarter. Mary T (now Mary P) and I took her jeep and snowboard to a local sledding hill, without appropriate warm clothes, so I could learn this new winter sport. Being an avid skier and she being the only with a snowboard...we were brilliant. And freezing. At 10 o'clock at night.

Teenagers are smart. Clearly.

Trash Bags & Parking Lots

Senior year in college holds two wonderful snow memories. The first was sometime after midnight during finals week. It was the first snowfall of the year, and the four of us - Christie, Jessica & Kim, my three awesome roommates - were studying at our Ross Street apartment. Jessica had the brilliant idea to take trash bags and go sledding down the parking lot. Yes, the parking lot. There was an 8-foot hill with a slight slant that made for much laughter. We went inside all cold and wet for some hot chocolate, and the next thing we knew, all the people who were giving us strange looks from our apartment complex were out there doing the same thing. It was an instant 1 AM study-break party.

That same week, a few days later, I went sledding with Laura A, Matt H and Wethe (Matt & Laura are not married). We were in the field behind the ag school and decked out in so many clothes were were like young children who could barely move or walk. And, of course, it was about midnight. We slid down the hill so fast that we didn't realize that there were those cement dividers in between the parking spaces in the lot at the end. I hit one, got air and managed to not die. It was awesome.

Closing Denver

It snowed 3-feet in less than two days. Starbucks even closed. I was living in campus apartments at Denver Seminary, so there were friends everywhere. The most impressive memory is that a group of grown men took huge plastic tubs to build a fort. And not just any fort. It was a fort big enough for these grown men to stand and sleep in. Seriously. It was that cool.

May there be many more snow days in your future!

The Flip Side

2011-01-09T18:55:00.000-06:00

Working at home has its perks. I get to stay in my PJs drinking coffee out of my favorite mug until 2 or 3 o'clock in the afternoon. I go running whenever I want and make a great, home cooked meal for lunch. I fold laundry in between emails and have no commute. It's a pretty good gig.

But it has its downside.

Every weather channel in this country is predicting 3-5" of snow in Atlanta tonight. It's a hilly city that does not know how to deal with such precipitation, so there's a certain level of panic in the air. Schools - including Georgia Tech - have already announced that they are closed tomorrow. Keep in mind not a flake has actually fallen from the sky' they just think that lots of them will. So, tomorrow, all of Atlanta will be shut down. Many people will not be heading into the office. But there'll be no snow day for me. I guess it's fair. The rest of the world has to sit in traffic.

Would you like to go on a walk?

2011-01-08T10:31:00.001-06:00

One of the things I love most about many other cultures in this great wide world is their ability to walk. Yes, walk. They walk to the market, to the butcher, to work, to a friend's house. They don't always have to drive. Many times it's due to over-crowded cities that make owning a car nearly impossible or poverty preventing individual transportation luxuries. But still, they walk.

When I'm in other places, a mile or two walk doesn't phase me one bit. It'd be a close place to eat or a convenient visit. However, back here in Atlanta, the thought of walking a few miles to the bookstore and Trader Joe's on a Saturday feels like it's a bigger deal than it should be. But I'm going anyway. I can't think of a better use of some extra time on a chilly, sunny weekend.

Funny how location can change perspective so much?

A Different Kind of Change

2011-01-07T16:06:00.001-06:00

It's a long story that's not worth retelling, but I've recently been chewing over the idea of being humble. The most challenging thing, to me, about this is not so much admitting wrong but rather changing course when it gets personal. It's hard to change. Some people thrive on change and new things when it comes to their surroundings, circumstances and interests, but it's hard to find a person on the planet who enjoys it when they realize that something about them, their views, their beliefs or their actions need to change. Change jobs? No big deal. Change hair color? OK. Change churches. Won't be stressful. But changing something about the core of who you are...um, no thanks.

So I'm learning. I'm continuing to learn more about myself, the effects of my own actions, other people and what God wants. And, not surprisingly, I've been wrong about many of these things in the past. I haven't so much minded realizing that I'm wrong...but it's changing something and reorganizing my thoughts and approaching life differently that is much more challenging and uncomfortable. Frankly, I don't like it very much. But it's good. It's very good.

What might you need to change?

Crock Pot

2011-01-06T18:54:00.001-06:00

My mom bought me a crock pot for Christmas. And it's wonderful. This is my first of hopefully many delicious meals.

Uh-oh...

2011-01-06T17:32:00.000-06:00

Egypt 2007

2011-01-05T15:56:00.002-06:00

It only took three about three years, but the adventure has finally been documented in book format!

My 2011 Calendar

2011-01-05T13:56:00.001-06:00

If this video works, it'll be a slight miracle. I've never managed to accomplish such a technological wonder on my own in the past. The only glitch is that the cover should read 2006-2010. Oops. Sharpies were made for such corrections...and besides, who ever looks at the cover page? It's the months that hang up there for 28-31 days at a time...right?

My latest list

2011-01-05T13:27:00.000-06:00

Relocating to Atlanta has opened up several opportunities in my life in the past almost-year. One of them is time. I have more to do whatever I want to do than I have had in the past. So this morning, seeing as it's a new year and all (but this is not a "resolution"), I made a list of all the things I'd like to do with this time. It's amazing how motivating and productive a simple list can be. Yay for coffee, candles, Sharpies and new days.

My Christmas Vacation

2011-01-05T13:17:00.000-06:00

I haven't been home to Chicago for this long since 1999. I'll admit, I was a little worried it would feel that way, too. I had grandiose plans to visit somewhere else right after Christmas...but those all epically failed and the plane ticket purchased as bookends the proposed adventure ended up being an odd decision.

Nonetheless (one of my favorite words), the time flew by leaving me with people I missed and chores not completed. Strep throat knocked out the first week, but I never felt that sick, so it wasn't so bad.

Here's my Christmas vacation. In pictures. With my new camera.

The Nativity under the Christmas tree at my parents' house. It's been there for as long as I can remember.

The Tree. It's been standing there since 1972.

My Dad opening up his present from me. Some of his favorite treats.

Michael: Opening up the Egypt tour book. I made a scrapbook of our 2007 trip as a gift but needed him to look at it on my computer before ordering it, so wrapping up the tour book made sense.

My mom's Italy book. Same as above.

The next two pictures of my dad's brilliant Christmas wrapping idea. He had several gifts for my mom to wrap...and stacked them to make it simpler. Awesome, Dad.

BOCHOX: Chocolate. Yum. Make this picture bigger and read the text. It's funny.

The angel was replaced by a different tree-topper this year, so my parents "hung"her near the top of the tree. She looks like she's taking a flying leap off of the tree in response to being demoted from the top position.

Christmas Morning Casserole: YUM.

The centerpiece.

Michael read the manual to my new camera much more intently than I did. I'm not so great at reading instructions but had to promise to read it. I will. I also signed up for a class to learn how to use it.

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Riverside

Annette's Village

The hutch all five of us nieces and nephew want to inherit.

Thank you Valerie, now I have a dancing, singing Christmas Tree.

Me & My New Toy

Hello Mr. Turkey! You look delicious!

Hi Mom!

The Werles. My face is awkward here because I was laughing so ridiculously hard. It took about 17 takes to get everyone not talking when the camera went off. You'd think it wouldn't be so difficult with six adults? Apparently, it was.

Playing with my new toy outside the Riverside Werle House

Riverside Werle's

Elmhurst Werle's

Lilly...the morning I hung out with Tracey.

Aunt Jackie...texting?!

For my dad's January 8th birthday, I took him out to lunch at Braxton's.

Amber. Where? Starbucks. Of course.

On New Year's Eve it was so warm outside that my dad grilled the steaks. He is a little bit of a pyro, using the leaf blower to get the coals hotter.

No trip to Chicago is complete without Portillo's Italian Beef. This is what beef sandwiches will taste like in Heaven.

The puzzle Valerie sent to Jackie & Annette. We're taking it apart and sending it back to her to have all the fun herself.

Getting back to Atlanta turned into quite a fiasco. Saturday evening, the plane broke, so we were delayed in Chicago. A new part was flown in from Ohio to fix it, so we took off, about 4 hours late. Then when we were about to land, in what we thought would be Atlanta, the pilot announced that there was a fog problem...so he was taking us to Birmingham. Thank you to Delta for the hotel for the night...and for Laura's phone call the next morning. The glitch in the iPhone had me oversleep an hour, and I almost missed my flight getting back to Atlanta.

One of these things is not like the other...

2010-12-29T10:33:00.001-06:00

My parents met in a training class at IBM in 1968. On their FIRST date, to impress my mom after dinner, my dad took her to the "computer room" at the University of Michigan. It worked. If you know my brother, you will not be surprised to know that I'm starting to seriously wonder if I'm adopted, despite how much my parents deny it.

World of Coca-Cola

2010-12-20T20:30:00.001-06:00

I must confess that before heading downtown Atlanta to explore the World of Coca-Cola, I had rather low expectations. I assumed that there'd be several red and white logos on all kinds of things hung on the walls and dancing in the open space. And I was right about that. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how interesting this cultural phenomenon was developed over the decades, how marketing worked so well, how many products they created and the entertaining short videos.

With all the memorabilia gathered in one specific location, I can't help but wonder if in a thousand years all the various Coke products will be memorized by students studying for history exams that cover "gods of the 20th Century."

(These photos were taken with an iPhone. Not too bad.)

Olympic Torches

The Tasting Room

65 Coca-Cola Products to Taste...including Gingerbread Coke! There was one continent represented by each beverage dispensor.

I have a cousin named Beverly, so I took this picture. However, sadly, I imagine that jet fuel would taste better than whatever was put into this beverage. Why it is popular in Europe baffles me.

This was parked outside the aquarium in Atlanta. Yes, the Wienermobile.

Perspective

2010-12-20T16:11:00.001-06:00

When I'm in Austin or Atlanta and the sunny weather drops into the 40s (sometimes the 50s), I wonder if it's "too cold" to go running outside.

This afternoon, in Chicago, I went for a run outside because it was "warm," cloudy and 27-degree. The snow and ice on the streets had been dissolved by all the salt trucks that had passed by on previous days but still blanked the lawns and some sidewalks.

A New Song...

2010-12-17T06:17:00.000-06:00

I started playing the violin the last day of second grade. I asked my mom if I could take lessons sometime in the fall of that academic year, which was two years before instruments started in our school district, and she said that if I was still interested in June, she would sign me up. I think that she hoped I would forget, being the easily distracted 7-year-old that I was. Well, I didn’t forget. She picked me up from my last day as a second grader and we drove to a local music store where I met the owner and violin teacher. She was patient for the next 11 years, guiding me as I fumbled through etudes and destroyed concertos.

My violin days faded away in college and were only briefly revisited in the years following. By the time I had graduated, the black case was collecting dust under my bed and would come out about once a year. I’d play a few songs whose notes are still ingrained in my brain today, put it back into case and think to myself, “hmmmm...it’d be fun to play in a symphony again one day.”

I’d also notice how much it hurt the tips of my fingers to play this instrument that used to be so familiar. With orchestra everyday, theoretically practicing every evening and visiting my private teacher once a week, I had unintentionally developed little callouses...and didn’t even know that they were there until it was very apparent that they were not. My fingers had become numb to the metal strings sliding firmly below them, dancing up and down the finger board to create music. I didn’t feel it anymore.

Growing up in the church, my heart sometimes felt that way about Christmas and Easter. The familiar truths become background noise that was unnoticeable amidst the chaos of holidays, the lists of things to do and all the other shiny distractions. I was tempted to glaze over the passages read about Jesus’ birth and my heart not pierced as his resurrection was preached, until I realized that my focus had shifted and it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. It wasn't new and exciting and different. It may be life-changing information that I took very seriously, but it wasn’t something on which I was consciously focusing, like breathing oxygen, which was an unfortunate situation.

This December as I mailed only a small handful of Christmas cards to scattered friends and family across the country, I found myself writing words of prayers for friends that I often pray for myself: My God surprise you with His great love and incredibly joy in new and different ways.

As we are welcoming another Christmas season and will then be looking forward to focusing on Jesus’ life and resurrection, may our hearts and minds notice and focus on this story, whether it be the first time we’ve truly heard and understood the significance of this seriously ridiculously loving God and what He did for us.

Cards of Chicago

2010-12-15T14:23:00.000-06:00

Crafting is one of my hobbies. These are pictures I took for a gift card series during the summer of 2008. I finally got around to making several gift card sets for Christmas presents this year.

Party Dresses!

2010-12-12T11:48:00.000-06:00

Much to the surprise of my 9-year-old self, one of my most favorite things about the first three weeks of December is the wide spread of Christmas celebrations calling for party dresses. The 9-year-old Heather would have done anything she could to avoid a dress of any kind and practically wrestled my mother as she attempted to do my hair. Apparently, things change. This year, there were only parties on the agenda but both lead to cute pictures, thanks to Jen. Here are two of them and two other lovely ladies, Adrianne and Katye, who dressed up for the occasion.

Family Portraits

2010-12-08T14:42:00.000-06:00

On a brisk fall afternoon in Austin, my family met up with photographer Krista McCaleb by Town Lake to capture the essence of the Werle Family. These are some of my favorite...but probably not the ones my mother will purchase, frame and have hung in my parents' house for years to come.

Um... guess who's the youngest child?

Black Tie / White Christmas

2010-12-06T08:16:00.000-06:00

1500 of your closest friends

Making one of my least favorite chores a little more interesting...

2010-11-29T09:45:00.000-06:00

Grocery shopping and I are not friends. Can you tell? I love to cook. Having food is always a bonus, and putting it together in creative ways is one of my most favorite things. However, this whole grocery shopping thing...not a fan.

I like eating out even less, and so I rely on frozen soup from past cooking adventures and cans of tuna in times like this. It's what my refrigerator currently looks like. Before leaving town for the week, I intentionally at everything that might go bad, so it's not surprising that this was what it looked like upon returning Saturday night. Now it's Monday. I have a lunch meeting today and pizza at a different work function tonight. There's one Luna bar left for breakfast tomorrow before a tough work out (had to save it for that!), and the leftover chili from stuff I defrosted last night will suffice for dinner. I can scrounge for lunch. Therefore, it might be Wednesday before I go buy any food.

Yes, grocery shopping and I are not friends. But thanks to Krista, I now have a fresh perspective. Before heading to HEB in Austin last week to get all the food for Thanksgiving, she suggested that I take my iPhone and headphones, plug in and listen to music while shopping. Genius! Grocery shopping was less painful. And even if there are only a few items on my list, unlike last week's trip to the grocery store, I plan on having headphones handy.

Thank you, Krista.

Crafty Christmas Cards

2010-11-29T09:37:00.000-06:00

I like crafts. However, I have a bad habit of starting something and never really finishing it...so I'm working on that. I started painting this year. I make cards. I used to mess with little fun jewelry and even went through a candle-making phase.

Last year, I saved about a dozen gift tags from presents. They were the huge, thick decorative ones. This year, I actually remembered that, found them (even after two moves!) and made about ten cards. There weren't many, and they're super simple...but some people I know will get these simple cards this Christmas. I'm all about saving money and recycling stuff in crafty ways. I took a picture of the tags before starting this project and sadly sealed up all the envelopes before getting a shot of the finished product.

Adding Space

2010-11-20T09:33:00.001-06:00

I deactivated Facebook about two weeks ago. I made the decision sort of on a whim having dabbled with the idea for several months. I finally just clicked the button, typed in my password and confirmed my choice. It was official.

I thought I'd miss it. I thought I'd wonder. I thought I'd cave. And I did, for a minute. But overall, I didn't really miss it. I didn't really miss the status updates, the pictures or the groups. Sure, when I was bored or procrastinating, it would have given me something to do, but instead I called a friend, went to sleep early, straightened up my apartment or crossed off something on my list of things to do. I was more productive. I was more engaged in the moment. I stopped wondering about life in other places and focused on my own. I was curious, for a few minutes, some days...but not really. I logged on this morning and made a change to my profile, but after several clicks, I deactivated it. Again.

I'll probably still be back at some point. Perhaps even next week? My friends in Austin seem to plan more social events using the Website and post more pictures than my growing community here in Atlanta. So yes, maybe I'll log on using my email and password to reactivate my account. It's that easy. But until then, I'll be getting things done and making more phone calls. And writing more blogs :)

It's a first...and I don't like it very much.

2010-11-19T09:15:00.000-06:00

2010 is the first year in my memory - in at least a decade and maybe my whole life - that I am not spending one week, one day, one hour or even one minute in the great state of Colorado. For those of you who have known me for longer than a brief moment or have read this blog for a while now, you know just how much I am in love and am obsessed with that glorious place that is home to the Rocky Mountains, Summit County, three of my favorite cities in the whole wide world and more life-long friends than any other single state.

I was blessed. For four years, I called it home. When I met people on airplanes and they asked, "where are you from," I quickly replied with "Denver" or "Boulder" proudly. I wasted no time in bragging about my state, a state that wasn't truly mine to claim...but I did it anyway. Natives to this place take great pride in their heritage and even have stickers reminding others that they were born there. Those of us who pretend we can call a bit of it our own are left with the "Transplant" reminders stuck on our cars and Nalgene bottles. We quickly fit in and wonder why we didn't get there sooner.

When I moved to Texas, one of my biggest fears is that I would lose Colorado. Colorado would drift into the ancient past like a distant memory and eventually would be something I experienced a long time ago in a different life. That didn't happen. As I wrote "Austin" on the return address part of an envelope, I still stayed closely connected to the mountains...and Amy, Julie, Anneke, Julia, Jessica, Carolyn, Becky and countless others. It was my home away from home away from home. In 2009 alone, I managed to spend at least seven weeks with those people and in those places. It was magical.

Then I moved to Atlanta. Atlanta is not a bad place. It's close to the Appalachian mountains. I've visited Greenville and Asheville, Nashville and Chattanooga, Kim and Dan, and Blair and JP. Elizabeth came through town, and my cousins vacationed here. It's been a good city. I've managed to get back to Austin many times for important reasons. I've been to DC more than usual to see family. I even was able to go to Chicago twice already, and it's not even Christmas yet.

Alas, I will not be making it to Colorado. 2010 will come to an end in just over a month. There are no tickets purchased with DEN as the destination. No emails and phone calls have been made to arrange places to sleep depending on how the snow falls. I will not be drinking Vic's coffee with Julie or walking at Wash Park with Carolyn. 2010 will conclude, and something will be missing.

2011 will have to make up for this kind of mistake. A ski trip should be planned immediately.

Without Hesitation

2010-11-16T06:29:00.000-06:00

We signed up to paint. That's what they told us in the announcement and what was written on the paper where we jotted down our names. There was even a reminder and details email sent out including instructions on what to wear for painting and that lunch would cost $5. That's what was expected.

It was a church-wide service project, and we were partnering with an organization that meets the needs of widows in a poor area of Atlanta. People typically fix furnaces, do yard work and paint. Not that complicated. And we were going to do that: paint.

Upon arrival Saturday morning, all was going as planned. Our sleepy eyes looked around the circle at each other as the leader greeted us and explained the history of organization, told us what we were to paint and introduced us to the sweet, elderly lady who owned the house.

And then we were interrupted.

We were interrupted by Precious: her mangy-looking dog. It was a small dog, probably no bigger than a trendy purse, and looked more like one you'd see roaming around a third world country than owned by a woman in Atlanta. The kind woman explained how her dog was completely fine before she had to go to the hospital for two months. A relative had Precious for her but returned her looking absolutely terrible. We listened to her sad story, made the appropriate comments and began to paint.

But not Jeni.

Jeni came up to me almost immediately to inform me that she was going to take Precious to the vet. She would put this sad and dirty looking animal into her car, drive across the entire city of Atlanta, stop at home, go to one vet that she knew was open on a Saturday, have the dog examined, pay for it out of her her and her husband's own bank account, get her whatever necessary medicine she needed and return the dog to this kind woman on the other side of town, even if it took all day.

There was no "but..." The were no excuses. There were no concerns. There were no hesitations. She quickly mentioned the idea to her husband, he loved it and she went to complete the task at hand. And it took all day.

The poor little dog had flees. Bad flees. And they were so bad that she had somehow gotten an infection, as well, so she'd need medicine for that, too. Jeni returned Precious that afternoon to a grateful woman who could never even consider taking her dog to the vet because it was too expensive. She was full of such joy!

The part of this story that gets to me is the fact that Jeni never hesitated. She saw a need and realized that with a little inconvenience and sacrifice on her own part that she could meet that need. Right now. Immediately. Done.

How often do we see someone who is hungry, hurting, thirsty, sad, confused or struggling and quietly say to ourselves after considering a solution, "but..." But I'm too busy. But I'm running late. But it's not in my budget. But I don't know them well enough. But it'd be awkward. But it would take too much time. But someone else will help. But I don't know what to do.

We are good at making excuses. And it's OK. We don't doubt, criticize or question ourselves or others when we pass by an obvious need. Excuses and "buts" are completely socially acceptable. Jeni didn't make excuses. She didn't even mention a list of concerns or questions. She just did something with the resources - time, money and knowledge - that she had.

Sure, we painted the trim on that little old lady's house that day, which was nice. She thanked us and smiled appropriately. She expected that. we all did. But it's the young woman who restored her little dog to health that she always remember, the woman who met a need that was deeper, more personal and more important. Jeni blessed her in an unexpected way by responding without hesitation.

Rain, rain, please come and stay...

2010-11-15T10:11:00.000-06:00

Rainy mornings might be my favorite. They grant unparalleled permission to stay in pajamas a little longer, brew an extra large pot of coffee and get a slightly later start to the work day. It's like a meteorological pause button reming me that it's OK to slow to take my time.

Sun-Dried Tomatoes

2010-11-06T09:45:00.000-05:00

When I was in the 8th-grade, my friend Ruth and I spent many weekend hours at the mall eating mall food. Mall food, of course, was McDonald's. The best mall in our area had a Rock 'N Roll themed resturant with an old-fashioned game where you could win a high-bounce ball for a quarter. We collected the high-bounce balls, wandered in and out of the Gap, Express and Abrocombie and Fitch (when it was known for warm, wool sweaters - clothes that actually covered your body and kept you warm) and considered ourselves mature 13-year-olds.

As mature 13-year-olds, of course, it was time to graduate from french fries and chicken nuggets. So one day, with crinkled up dollar bills in our pockets, we went to California Pizza Kitchen. It took several $3-an-hour gigs to pay for dinner, but it was a dinner appropriate our mature age. They had waiters and waitresses and everything. And you got to order off of an actual menu in your hands, not the neon sign above the register.

I was sure that at that very moment that I had arrived. I was all grown-up. No more were the days of high bounce balls for me. After all, I was a teenager.

We looked at the menu that day, and I vividly remember wanting to order something different, something fancy, even though I never admitted or acknowledged that at the time. And so we did. We ordered a pizza with something called sun-dried tomatoes. It sounded very adult. I think that my friend Ruth had eaten this before and said it was good, but frankly, that detail slips my mind all these years later. After all, it was probably 1992...maybe 1993.

We ate our pizzas, probably while drinking Sprite, and handed over the $1s and $5s that families had us paid for playing with their children on Friday nights. It was an expensive meal. Only one family I knew paid $5 an hour, and that was only on special occasions.

I ate my pizza without complaint, acting very mature, of course, as we probably giggled over the boys at youth group that were were going to see that week and most likely failed to tip appropriately. We at sun-dried tomatoes on our pizza. Because that's the kind of thing adults order.

Over the years, I have often ordered sun-dried tomatoes. Maybe because they seem more exciting than regular tomatoes. Maybe because they are often combined with other foods that I pick on a menu. But the funny thing is, as I ate a cheese spread the other day infused with several flavors, including sun-dried tomatoes, I was reminded, once again, that I'm not really a fan. The sweet taste to them just doesn't fit with the other flavors. I find it too over-powering and that it changes the expected flavor into one of which I'm not so fond. I have memories of ordering them and picking most off, thinking that maybe - just maybe - there are just too many sun-dried tomatoes on whatever it is that I'm eating. If I just were to get rid of a few, it would be OK. I'd still have the sophisticated item but without the intense sweetness that my palate does not appreciate. But it never works. And I always regret the decision.

I can't help but wonder why we, as human beings, continue to cave into making choices for things that we don't really like? In college, I promised myself that I would never purchase capri pants. I ended up owning more than several pairs over the last decade. I refused to wear "sorority girl pants" around the same time, and now I have many old ones in my closet. These days, I am outspoken against skinny jeans. Seriously?! Do they really look good on anyone over the age of 21 who weighs more than a 100-pounds?! Not. A. Fan. And at the very same time, as the woman was running my credit card for a new pair of jeans yesterday, I wondered if I should have tried on some skinny ones. Ya know...just to see what they'd look like?

We like to claim that once we graduate college, we graduate peer pressure. No longer are we influenced by the choices of others and the pictures in magazines. Our friends don't influence who we date, and movies don't tell us what he or she should look like. Our wine selections aren't driven by the label, and our coffee beverage isn't made more complicated by a free sample that gets us hooked.

Yeah, right.

Deactivated

2010-11-04T08:36:00.000-05:00

I deactivated my Facebook account today. There were several reasons that I decided to take a break from the wonderful Web site that promotes social events, reminds me of birthdays, shares pictures that are worth a thousand words and makes sure I know what a elementary-school friend - who, of course, I haven't seen in over two decades - ate for lunch. I'll probably return to the social phenomenon one day, maybe much sooner or much later than you think. I really don't know? Nonetheless, for today, you can find out about all the ridiculously exciting things going on in my life by reading my blog. Thank you!

Unpredictable

2010-11-03T10:35:00.002-05:00

You already know that I love football season. It's not a secret. I wrote a blog about it a month ago. That has not changed. I like it even more than when I was in college. Back then, it was more a social function...and where there was also a game being played. Now, after living in Big12 areas of the country for several years, I've found myself turning on ESPN some Saturday mornings.

One of the things I love the most, besides my Mizzou Tigers, is the unpredictability of the sport that each and every Saturday can bring grown men to tears and leave the experts in shock.

The beginning of 2010 predicted that teams like Texas and Alabama would do well. They gave them high rankings in the polls and some thought that maybe, just maybe, even with certain players having graduated, they could meet again in a national championship game. Baylor would be Baylor. Mizzou would stay in the middle. And Oklahoma could easily steal Texas' glory by claiming the Big 12 Championship title. Schedules were made. Teams from South Dakota and California were picked to "warm up" the big guys who play real football, easily expecting to win.

Can you tell that the Big 12 is my favorite?

There wasn't much expected surprise and the announcers on GameDay probably didn't think that their predictions would be too controversial.

Then the season started.

Kansas lost to some unknown school from North or South Dakota. UT lost to UCLA. Alabama was defeated by South Carolina. Mizzou beat Oklahoma (GO TIGERS!!). Auburn is in competition to go to the national championship game. Oregon uses pictures to call their plays. And Baylor has the best record in the Big12 South. They just beat Texas this past weekend.

No one predicted this. No one expected this. No one, based on all the logical information that they had, could call it.

And that, my friends, is one of the reasons I LOVE COLLEGE FOOTBALL. You never know who will win, what freshman will surprise the big wigs on TV or what school spirit will overcome even the biggest bullies on the block. It makes it interesting. It keeps you on your toes. It shows that fans can make a difference with their spirit and support, changing the expectations of those who study the sport the most. It's a good reminder of how life is this way too, and for that I love it!

P.S.
M-I-Z...Z-O-U! Goooooo Tigers!

The Age of Fashion

2010-10-31T05:50:00.000-05:00

I work with teenagers. It keeps me young. Sometimes. I get to go to summer camp, play games and admit it when I listen to popular music and watch cheesy movies, claiming that it's job research. My life revolves around a school calendar, and I actually include Facebook as a skill on my resume.

However, I was reminded this morning, while looking on Facebook at some pictures of an 8th-grade girl and her friends, that I am old. When teenagers dress like you did as a middle schooler and call it a costume, you know that you don't need to wear skinny jeans. And I'm thankful for that.

Tuesday Night Art Class

2010-09-29T08:21:00.000-05:00

If I were a child and came home from elementary school with a painting like this, I would probably hope and pray and wish ...and ask... that it be hung up on the refrigerator for all the world to see. Galleries like these are all over the world, covered with art work and grades that make momma proud.

I started painting last spring. It just seemed like fun, and I had the time. The trip to the craft store paid off and added some 3rd-grade-like art to my apartment. This summer, Groupon provided me with a new opportunity to explore my creative side with a coupon for Canvas & Cocktails, a new, local business that helps you paint a picture by supplying all the paints and brushes, the canvas and the guidance you need. The "cocktails" part comes in because it sounds catchy, and you're allowed to bring in your own food and beverage to enjoy throughout the evening. (What I don't understand is how people who brought such refreshments had time to eat. I carefully followed all of the nice lady's instructions and could barely keep up with each step.)

Jen and I picked out a night that worked for us and ventured out for an evening of creativity. Below is what I came home with at the end of the adventure. And if I were 8-years-old, I'd ask my mom to hang it on the refrigerator.

I wonder what He'd say...

2010-09-27T08:17:00.000-05:00

As I've said in several recent blog posts, I've been reading through the Bible lately and am in the part with all the little short books that are titled with difficult-to-pronounce names. They're called Minor Prophets. They're books filled with messages from God to God's people. They are filled with grace, promises to come and redemption. However, they also show us how this loving God has an issue with sin: He doesn't like it. He sure does love people, but what they do to themselves and others is pretty destructive and painful.

As I watch the news, interact with teenagers and generally am an average consumer of culture with a slant toward adolescence because of my job, I find myself wondering what God might say if He had a message for us today. What would show love and justice? And what would reveal where we need to turn from our ways and remember to be loving and care about justice.

That's all.

I just wonder.

Looking for a second opinion?

2010-09-25T09:28:00.001-05:00

My cousin's wedding is next weekend, and I get the honor of being a bridesmaid. The dress arrived and has been altered. Mani/Pedi appointments are made. And showers have been thrown. It will be a 4-day celebration filled with parties and dancing in the DC area. With one week left, I'm starting to think about what I'll pack and through all the logistics of all these different events.

The one decision I still have yet to make is on the shoes. I bought three pairs. One went back pretty quickly. They were too blingy. Yes, blingy. But I still have two left and can't decide. One has a slightly higher heal (positive) and is surprisingly comfortable (positive), but it may be a little too shiny (negative) for the dress. The other is slightly less comfortable (negative), but it has a lower heal (negative) and may match the dress better (positive). They were both about the same price.

What do you think?

And here are the two pairs of shoes that I purchased...

Something Special, Please?

2010-09-17T18:58:00.002-05:00

Breakfast tacos used to be special to me. I would venture down to Texas from the beautiful mountains of Colorado to float in a river, drink coffee at Mozart's and eat breakfast tacos. It wasn't something that you found on every menu. Not in Boulder. Not in Denver. Not in Seattle. Not in Columbia. Not in London. Not in Chicago. Not in any place I had ever lived. So when I went to Austin to visit my brother, they were something special.

Now that I can add the Lone Star State to the long list of places I've lived, I find myself making breakfast tacos several mornings a week here in Atlanta, my latest home. I like to call them a little taste of Texas. They remind me of Taco Shack, Rudy's and my former roommate. I love them.

They are now routine. Breakfast tacos are normal. Nothing special.

Christmas, to me, is supposed to be special. It only comes once a year, on one day. We celebrate for several weeks with holidays, parties, concerts, gifts and worship experiences. We are reminded that the birth of one child changed the world forever. We drink hot chocolate with peppermint, eat too many M&Ms and we have breakfast in the formal dining room with a linen table cloth. It's special because it's different.

Yesterday, I drove past Christmas decorations. Go ahead. Check the date on this blog. Yes, it does say September 17. Not October. Not November. Not even close to December.

Retail stores of the United States of America: Please take them down. It's too early. If we watch them glimmer and glow for the next four months, by the time December 25 rolls around, they will no longer be special. No one will stop to notice. No one will want to take pictures. No one will be reminded that there is a reason for the season. Yes, I just said that. But it's true. Christmas decorations, as obnoxious and worldly as they can sometimes be, remind me of the holiday, and therefore, they become a hint at what is important. More important than shopping, lists and deadlines. Way more.

So please, take down the Christmas decorations. Keep them in the boxes. Close the lids. Pull the plug. They're stealing away the specialness of Christmas.

And that's just wrong.

Gigi's Cupcakes

2010-09-17T11:56:00.008-05:00

Dear Cupcake Inspirations,

Thank you for Gigi and her cupcake making abilities. Thank you for her generosity and willingness to share them with the rest of the world. We are blessed because of them. I imagine that these cupcakes are a small glimpse at what cupcakes will taste like in heaven, and I'm very thankful for them. I think I'm in love.

Gratefully yours,
-heather :)

I am not a big cupcake fan. I generally can pass by one and am not even phased by all the cupcake stores that are springing up like espresso stands in Seattle. They're OK but not my first choice for desserts.

Except for Gigi's.

I was craving something sweet on my way home several weeks back and decided that I should boost the local economy by stopping by to taste what a new business had to offer. It's a shop that's probably less than 1000 steps from my apartment door, as well, so it seemed like I was investing in the community.

Little did I know that this buttercream-based Midnight Magic treat would be so life changing. I went back with a friend a week later. This time, he tried the cream cheese version of Midnight Magic, and I went for the Peanut Butter Cup. It was even better than the other one. Four days later, I ate the Cookies-n-Cream. And today, a Facebook post about the Grasshopper made my car magically drive into the parking lot on the way home.

Yes, I have fallen in love with these little bits of what cupcakes must take like in heaven.

Find one near you (if you're lucky!). I go to the one in Buckhead.

One BIG God

2010-09-17T08:31:00.000-05:00

I'm reading through the Old Testament right now. In the Bible. It's the first part of the book that covers everything from God's Creation of the universe through the prophets that talk about sin and God's mercy concerning the Israelites. It all points to Jesus. It's true. Trust me. And if this doesn't convince, check it out for yourself. It's good stuff.

Anyway, I'm in the part toward the end that has all the little short sections written by people with names that are difficult to pronounce. They're called Minor Prophets.

Before I go on to the point of blog, I'd just like to acknowledge that if God called you to say something important enough to go in the Bible - the most read book of all times that is the Word of the Creator and Master of the Universe - it'd be a bummer and a little odd to be called "minor." I'm just sayin...

OK, back to my point.

In these books, you can see a lot of how God takes sin and grace seriously. He loves righteousness, justice, love and kindness. He is concerned when his people - anyone - does not receive proper care. He wants people's needs to be met by other people who have the resources. He calls the Israelites to worship Him (I mean, after all, He did create the Universe, rescue the nation of Israel more than a few times and is completely Holy - kind of a big deal), and when they don't, He is jealous. He is jealous because His love is so great, He desires them to live into the way that they were made, which includes worshipping the Lord God Almighty.

So we see a God that takes sin seriously. Got it.

We also see a God who takes love and grace and mercy seriously. He pours it out when it is completely undeserved, as He does in our lives today. He never forgets a promise. He does all things so that we may know that He is God. That's talked about a lot. We're a forgetful people, and sometimes, we need to be reminded. (I wrote a whole blog about that remember thing once, too. It's a big deal.) His love is never-ending and over-whelming. He is ridiculously Holy and powerful and mysterious, but He also desires and is involved in our lives, even if we completely fail to acknowledge it. It's pretty awesome.

Nonetheless, the Old Testament sometimes gets a bad rep. We want a god that makes us feel good, who reminds us when to be nice to people, who answers our prayers when we're in trouble and who is uninvolved. After all, if he's involved in our lives, then we have to be accountable to him and submit to his authority, and human beings have struggled with that since the beginning of time. Studies today call that "moralistic therapeutic deism." Google that if you find it interesting.

We want a god who we get to define, who fits into our little box, who stays out of our personal life...but who also doesn't mind changing a grade on that exam we may have bombed or turning all the lights green when we're late to work in rush hour traffic. That's a god we can control and figure out. That god is weak

Thank goodness He is not like that. What kind of God would that be? Not one worthy of worship. Not one worthy of love. Not one who is powerful enough to love us, forgive us and mold us. Not one who knows us each individually and intimately. Not one who actually is majestic enough to be worthy of time, attention and trust. Why would we ever want to worship a weak god? It would be silly. Why would we ever trust a god who was not involved in our lives? It would be irresponsible. Why would we ever depend on a god who was powerless? It would be pointless.

It's sad to me that so many people judge the Bible without reading it. Think about it. How often do media and you and me (yes, you and me) criticize the Bible? How often to we just say, "that's mean - I don't like it" when it comes to one short verse or story that we hear about, without even reading it for ourselves. I imagine that it's sort of like my friend's 7-month-old who screamed the entire way home last night in the car seat. She did not want to be put in there and kept there for so long, but she never bothered to ask and understand that it was for her own good. Her mother put her there because she loves her daughter with a crazy-love that made listening to a screeching child for 30-minutes a better option. Yes, she cried loudly the whole time. I happened to call this friend in the middle of it and was impressed with the little girl's lung capacity. Like her, we kick and scream and throw a temper-tantrum when we don't understand or like what God is doing. We don't even ask. Even if we could understand and learn more about His great story, in which we are involved, we don't take time to ask a question, let alone listen.

The point of this blog? I don't want a weak god. I want the big, powerful, mountains-tremble-beause-of-Him God that I read about in the Old Testament. Sure, I don't understand it all and wonder sometimes where He's working and why things don't make sense...but that's part of the reason that He is worthy of worship. He is so big, so mighty, so powerful, so loving, so compassionate, so all-knowing, so wonderful, so involved...so there-are-not-enough-words-all-the-languages-combined-to-describe-is-HUGENESS...that makes Him worthy of worship, praise and love with our whole lives.

That is the God who I want to know.

Live More

2010-09-16T07:53:00.003-05:00

Habits: We all have them. Some of them are obvious. Obvious to ourselves. Obvious to strangers. Obvious to friends. Obvious to God. Some of them are more subconscious. We're not even aware that we do these things, and if someone else pointed them out to us, we may even be surprised and embarrassed. Yes, habits.

Good. Bad. Ugly. Habits.

I've recently become more aware of one of these not-so-pretty habits in my life. It's one of those habits that can be called sin. It's ugly. Sin is always ugly. It just is. And we all do it. Every day. All the time. There's nothing we can do to make up for it, which is why we need Jesus. That's the Good News.

But that's no excuse. Bad habits - sin - are not things that we're supposed to keep doing intentionally. Sometimes we do them without even realizing it. However, sometimes, we ignore the little voice in the back of our mind flashing a bright, neon "STOP!" sign as we begin to take the first step. We know what we're doing is wrong, but we'd rather do that wrong thing because in the moment, it seems like a more fun or better option. It's not, but we lie to ourselves with the idea that it's OK or worth it. And we're wrong.

Like I said, recently I've become more aware of something in my own life. And this awareness is a little annoying. It's annoying because it means that I notice more and more when I'm starting to fall into this habit. It's annoying because it's not natural for me not to participate. It's a habit that I like. A habit that's hard to change.

The good news is that now I can do something about it. Previously, I wouldn't even recognize this habit after the fact. It was so ingrained in how I functioned that it didn't even stick out as something I should change. But now I know. So now I have the opportunity to do something about it. And I am. And it's wonderful. I'm already beginning to see how God is blessing me through choosing to live in a way that honors him and others better.

Assuming that you're a human being reading this blog, there's something in your life that is a habit that you should change. It's tough. It's awkward. It's uncomfortable. Nonetheless, it's good. Changing these habits brings us a life that is fuller, richer and more joyful in the long-run, even if the short-run isn't so pleasant. We were not created to have these ball-and-chain habits drag us down. We were meant for something more. So live into that. Live more.

Reaching the Box

2010-09-14T10:56:00.002-05:00

Students in the public school system of the United States of America have the opportunity to compete in the President's Physical Fitness Challenge each and every academic year. It includes various activities such as pull-ups, sit-ups, running a mile and the sit-and-reach test. Yes, if you went to at least one year of public school in this glorious country of ours, you have been instructed to sit down, have a classmate hold your knees to the floor and stretch your fingers out toward your toes with hopes of reaching far beyond them.

If you reach your toes, the number you receive is 0 (zero). Yes, zero. You get a zero for you bending over, with your knees completely unbent, and reaching your toes. Every inch beyond your toes that your finger tips slide gets you another number on the scale. If you don't quite reach your toes, you are in danger of receiving a negative number. At least this is the way that the one was set up in Sandburg Junior High in the early '90s and, as I vaguely remember it, Hawthorne Elementary School in the latter half of the '80s. The highest number you can receive...well, I don't remember that. The lowest rating a classmate will call out and your gym teacher will record forever in the history books of his or her grading spiral is -7. Yup. Negative seven.

Each and every year, from approximately 1984 to 1993, my gym teacher would write down -7 (negative seven) in that tiny square on the line next to my name. She was being nice. I couldn't actually reach the box, and that seemed like a gracious alternative to having to make it even worse than the box allowed it to be.

I hated the day our gym teacher would announce that it was time for physical fitness tests. I thrived in each and every category...but never ever received the piece of paper at the end-of-the-year assembly because of the annoying sit-and-reach test. One test. One stretch. One embarrassing moment in physical education for this once-self-conscious girl who had to admit in front of her entire gym class that she could not even come within 7-inches of touching her toes. It wasn't even close. If there were markings that went into the negative double-digets, there may have been a chance I could reach the box.

I've gotten over the experience but am still able to shock trainers, physical therapists, coaches and athletes with my inflexibility. Really, it's quite shocking. Being a wanna-be runner for the past decade hasn't helped, either, tightening my hamstrings as they become more like steal beams rather than stretchy rubber bands.

About a month ago, I joined a gym. It's been awesome. I go to cardio/weights classes to voluntarily get tortured and can already see a difference in my muscles. I'm still running...but it's not every day, which is probably better for my knees and joints in decades to come. I also started doing yoga.

Yes. Yoga.

If you know me, you know that I like yoga just about as much as I like going to the dentist. Actually, I think the dentist is more fun. I go to yoga because it's good for me, like my mother would tell me that vegetables were when I was a small child. I didn't like them, but I knew that I had to eat them. I know that after a decade of being a wanna-be runner and watching my elders with double or triple the years in the sport, I'll be in trouble and inviting injury if I don't get more flexible. So I started doing yoga. I've only been a few times, but it's also made me more conscientious about stretching after working out.

It felt good. I was less sore the next day. And after the days that I actually went to yoga, my body felt refreshed and relaxed. Never mind that I'm the youngest person in this yoga class by at least 30 years, so it's more like an hour of stretching than very strenuous yoga. As the instructor had to pick me out in the class of about 25 people to correct me four times this past week, I wondered if I'll ever get the hang of it and be able to even attempt all the poses demonstrated.

And then today, drumroll, please, I almost touched my toes. I came within inches. Practically measurable in centimeters. It was still several, but it was closer than my fingers have ever been from my feet without my knees pushed up to my chest. It was in a cardio/weights class that had me convinced that the instructor was crazy (certifiably crazy) when this monumental event occured. We were toward the end of this 60-minute torture, and when he told us to reach down and touch our toes, I actually almost did. It was incredible. I smiled, which was quite difficult at the time seeing as I had not one ounce of energy left to move any muscle on my body, and smiling takes several all working together at the same time successfully. But it was worth the extra effort. I was proud. I was proud like a young child who was running home to have their art work hung up on the refrigerator. I, Heather Lynn Werle, at age 31, almost touched my toes.

The grander lesson in the whole scheme of things is that sometimes, what's good for us takes time. Lots of time. And hard work. We live in an instant, microwaveable, text-messaging society that does not allow time for anything of significance. That's an entire other blog. This moment reminded me of that. It reminded me that hard work pays off, and that the hard work, when done over and over again, can make a difference.

Perhaps I'll stop by Hawthorne Elementary School the next time that I'm in Elmhurst to show my gym teacher that I can reach the box now.

God Doesn't Need a Consultant

2010-09-13T07:27:00.000-05:00

He wasn't told the outcome. He wasn't asked about it. His opinion didn't matter. God just wanted him to do something. Something specific. Something strange. Something so scary that he ran away.

Jonah.

He's the guy who ended up in the belly of the big fish in that short 2-page book of the Bible. He is responsible for several children's songs and felt-board characters. God asked him to do something that included going to a specific place. He ran in the opposite direction. He was thrown off of a boat in a storm and was eaten by a big fish. Inside the belly of this fish, he prayed. He changed his mind about what he would do, was thrown up onto the shore and went to the place where God told him to go. He did his job. He expected certain results. He expected that the people he didn't like would get punished, that the bullies in the elementary-school classroom of life would finally be sent to the principal's office and to get what he thought they deserved.

But that didn't happen. God didn't ask for his opinion or for his advice. He sent him to this strange land to do a certain job, and when it was done, God forgave these people revealing his great love and compassion and mercy.

Jonah didn't want it to go down this way. He was angry. He was so angry that he threw a temper-tantrum about a plant that died. Seriously. Look it up. It's true.

The end of "the guy in the belly of a big fish story" bothers me each time I read it. It bothers me not because there's something strange that doesn't make sense to me...but rather because it hits home too closely.

I. GET. JEALOUS.

I get jealous of people who seem to be blessed even though they hurt me. (That's just not right.) I get jealous of people with whom I've shared my dreams and hopes...and then they come true for their lives and not mine. (That's not fair.) I get jealous of people who seem to have it all going so well in their lives, even though my life is pretty dang great itself. (That's not enough.) I get jealous. I want to pout and kick and scream about a silly little plant dying and complain that God didn't bless me the way I wanted him to...and worse, he blessed those other people in a way that I didn't think that they deserved.

Someone once asked me if I could eliminate one human emotion from the spectrum of emotions that we experience, what would it be. I chimed up right away: jealousy. Jealousy destroys friendships. Jealousy creates grudges. Jealousy inspires revenge. Jealousy hurts. Jealousy - to me - has very few positive benefits. Of course, I logically understand "good" jealousy. But that's not my point today.

Chapter 4. I get all the way through the first three chapters of this short book nodding my head and making notes as I observe what God's story is teaching me. And then I get to chapter 4. I'm glad that chapter 4 is in there the same way that I'm glad I get to go to yoga each week. It's good for me, like eating my vegetables. It reminds me that God's love and compassion and mercy surprises me. It reminds me that I am not the authority figure on when and where that love and compassion and mercy is expressed. It reminds me that I am blessed. It reminds me that there is a God who created this great big universe and that he's still in control...and that he doesn't need a consultant.

Before the sun comes up...

2010-09-12T16:59:00.002-05:00

It's quiet. There are no emails begging for a timely response. My phone sits there in complete silence, not interrupting my thoughts. IM's aren't flashing in the corner of any screen. My candle reflects off of the dark window. I snuggle beneath a blanket with hot coffee that warms my heart. Noise is not a temptation.

I. LOVE. 5 AM.

For several years, 5 a.m. was normal. It was almost sleeping in, some weeks. It didn't matter what time I went to bed the night before because my alarm clock still woke me up and the coffeemaker still started brewing. I stayed out late, went to concerts, planned happy hours...and still woke up before or around 5 a.m. And I loved it.

My schedule has changed. My job is less busy. And I wake up later.

I don't like it. I feel like something is missing. Even if I have the same amount of time to drink coffee and sit on the couch, it's not quite the same.

Perhaps I'll set my alarm tonight a little earlier than I have been lately.

And yes, I know I'm crazy.

Football Season

2010-09-11T14:43:00.002-05:00

Yes, Football is a season. It starts around Labor Day, takes a hiatus in December and wraps up just after the new year. It's one of my favorite seasons. It means that there's always a party somewhere to watch some game on Saturdays. Chores are much more entertaining with almost any game on in the background. And bragging rights are challenged.

As a student at Mizzou, I went to almost every home game. I didn't care that much about the game, but I was proud of my Tigers....and besides, all my friends went. We added temporary tattoos to our faces, bought new black and gold sweatshirts and bundled up for the events that overlapped with autumn. If we won, Columbia lit up like a sky filled with fireworks on the 4th of July. If we lost, strangers became friends because misery does love company.

Yes, football season. One of my favorite.

For all but one season, I've lived in the land of the Big XII and have started caring and learning more about the game itself. I called Denver/Boulder home for four seasons, getting feisty when the Buffs talked trash about my Tigers and even went to a Mizzou game at Colorado one November. Then it was Austin, home of the University of Texas and many proud Aggies. Yes, Big XII dominated social schedules, church calendars and was the center of the universe for a few months. Mizzou is my team. They aways put up a good fight against the Longhorns and A&M in their place. I knew the teams. I knew some of the players. I recognized most of the coach names. It was familiar.

Now I live in the land of the SEC and the ACC. It's strange and unfamiliar. I'm sure that eventually, I'll actually care about UGA and Georgia Tech, but for now, I'm a little bit sad not to be surrounded by the burnt orange of those obnoxious Longhorns, adorning my Mizzou t-shirt proudly. Most people here have on some shade of red and are not phased by the Black and Gold. Football Season feels a little deflated to me. And maybe - just maybe - it won't be so strange and unfamiliar one day...

Lottery Tickets

2010-09-11T10:11:00.000-05:00

"I remember an old catholic joke about a man who spent his whole life going to a church every day and prayed to the statue of a great saint begging 'please, please, please, let me win the lottery.' Finally the exasperated statue comes to life and looks down at the begging man and says 'my son, please, please, please, buy a ticket.'"

-Liz in Eat Pray Love

Even though I had heard the joke before, I laughed out loud with most of the theater last night when Julia Roberts recited this line in the movie made of Elizabeth Gilbert's best-selling story about her travel adventures to Italy, India and Indonesia. It's funny...very funny. Because it's true...very true.

We all want to win the lottery. It might be the best job in the world, the one where we dread Friday rather than Monday. It might be a marriage like that other couple that seems perfect. It might be conquering a huge goal, like running a marathon or learning a new hobby. Or it might be collecting stamps in a passport.

Most people have some sort of dream. To us, it's big and may feel unattainable. But it may just be possible, if we pray, wish and dream enough. But if it's not, it's OK. It's OK because it's a dream. We tell ourselves that it's just silly. That we made some sort of mistake years ago, and we can't go back. We get too busy and make too many excuses. It might seem to cost too much money.

These dreams stay there in our peripheral vision, taunting us like a carrot tied to a string on a stick hanging in front of a horse. We do our best to forget about them. We get distracted. We still might wonder "what if..." or "maybe one day..." But we leave it at that and go on with our daily lives, our task lists and the demands of our jobs, families, churches, sports teams, friends and volunteer obligations that sometimes feel more like homework assignments rather than opportunities to experience love, joy, grace, mercy and hope.

We were made to dream. There's this verse in the Bible. It's in the Book of Psalms, the book with all the poetry. It's a complicated collection of prayers. I love the Psalms. I even wrote a blog about them once. This one verse is tucked away in Psalm 37. Christians like to use this out of context to justify all kinds of things, sometimes even sinful ones. It's verse 4, and it says, "Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart." We like to claim that it means we will get what we want, when we want and how we want...if we love God. However, that's just not true. Sorry. It's not. Just because you love God, it doesn't mean that all of your dreams will come true. God is not a cosmic candle on a birthday cake. You can't make a wish and have it come true just because you believe in him. He does answer prayers, but that's a whole different conversation.

This verse explains God's love. It reminds us that God will infuse his desires for our lives on our hearts. If we seek him, trust him, love him and pour our everything into him, he will give us his desires for our lives. He'll give us desires that he wants to fulfill. He loves his children, and he longs to use them in ways that bring him and them great joy - an inexplicable joy that can be found from no other source in the entire universe.

These desires, the lottery tickets of which we daydream, are normal. We were made to dream. We were made to have goals. We were made to want more than this life will offer. We were made to live in a world where there were no unfulfilled desires, unfulfilled dreams, lost hopes. We were made for more.

So we pray. We hope. We dream. We want to win the lottery. But sometimes, we forget to buy the ticket. We wander around aimlessly as if someone will just knock on our door and hand it over.

It doesn't happen that way.

We were created to be a part of God's plan. He uses us. He wants us to be a part of his story, active and not passive characters. Characters who participate by loving others. Characters who participate by jumping in the deep end and using all gifts and resources he has given us. They're not ours, anyway. They were given to us on loan for a time, and we have the chance to be used by the one who created us. And that's pretty awesome.

So today, go buy a lottery ticket. Not literally, of course. Spend 10 minutes working toward a dream that you think is unattainable. Seek adventure. Take the first step. I did, kind of, with something small this week. It's a little scary because the outcomes is completely out of my hands. Nonetheless, if I hadn't pushed the first pebble to get the ball rolling, however, it never would have even been a possibility.

May God give you lottery-ticket desires worth more than all riches in the world and the courage to run full speed toward the opportunities to win the prize.

Clown College

2010-09-02T09:11:00.000-05:00

Mom and Dad would be so proud: I went to Clown College. Technically, it wasn't Clown College, but that sounds funnier than the Circus Arts Institute.

And that's exactly what it was: Circus Arts. Of all kinds.

I bought a Groupon several months ago for an advertised trapeze class. In my mind, I pictured a high-flying experience that included for harnesses and nets. I imagined that I'd be soaring through the air high in the sky off of platforms, launching myself to the swing dangling ahead of me. I imagined flips of all kinds and leaps of great proportions. It would either be outside or in a building that resembled a gymnastics training facility. Of Olympic proportions, of course.

What I discovered upon arrival in a shady-looking warehouse building turned into a loft apartment and workout space below. It was more like an edgy coffee-shop atmosphere with an eclectic group of individuals doing yoga in the sky with ribbons.

Yes, yoga in the sky with ribbons. Ever wanted to learn the moves of those Cirque de Soleil people? This is the place for you!

With others ranging from a 15-year-old boy to a woman who was easily a member of AARP, we began with stretching. Lots of stretching. From there, each person seemed to move to a corner of the room and begin working on strengthening exercises, climbing up ribbons, hoisting themselves up onto a swing in all kinds of awkward-looking positions and creating human sculptures doing handstands on each others shoulders. One guy who looked as if he came out of a law office started tetter-tottering on the balance aparatus. And the man who taught the weird hand-stand-body-sculptures incorporating himself into the two- and three-person creations...he could have been my grandpa.

Us newbies were brought to the other side of the room where we were taught tricks on a slightly lower swing, how to climb up a rope, juggling skilz and to walk across the balance beam. That was before the three of us started standing, balancing and forming our own human sculptures. We laughed a lot. We were told to say "Ta-Da!" And we now have a whole new admiration for the strength that it takes to wrap a blue ribbon around your body and climb up into the air until you hang upside-down with no hands.

Here are a few pictures...

September

2010-09-01T10:16:00.000-05:00

I miss September.

September when it was the welcome committee for Fall. Fall weather. Fall sports. Fall drinks. Fall activities. Not all of it is jacket or sweater weather, but there were always a few days. The ones with a nice breeze and a bit of a chill. Sometimes with a few leaves changing colors in the sky or even crunching on the sidewalk. September is not like that in Atlanta. It's supposed to be over 90-degrees several days this week. I don't remember days like this in Austin...or Colorado or Seattle. It must be a Midwest thing. The best days were slightly humid. Not annoyingly humid. Just humid enough to make the breeze feel chill and for it to smell like Fall. It announced the changing of the seasons and introduced fleece jackets, jeans and long-sleeves. It wasn't quite time to pack away all the flip flops and shorts, but it gave us a glimpse of blankets at sporting events, hot drinks in hand and kicking leaves while you walk. Just a glimpse. Flirting with Fall, but not fully committing.

Yes, I miss September.

Happy People

2010-08-31T17:05:00.002-05:00

"I just don't think that Brooke could've done this. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't shoot their husbands, they just don't."

-Elle in Legally Blond

This line makes me giggle like a school girl each and every time I hear or read it. Not because murder is any laughing matter, but because her hilarious line of thought is actually logic, assuming that happy people don't shoot their husbands.

And because I think that it's true. I'm not a doctor. I've never looked into this to find out if it's true. And I barely remember a thing from the biology class I took years ago. But I do know that exercise makes me happy. After a few silly setbacks that have stopped me from exercising the past few months, I joined a gym and started running again. And it's wonderful. It makes me happy.

Letters to the Editor

2010-08-30T13:57:00.000-05:00

According to Wikipedia, which we all know is a credible, academic source, letters to the editor have been around for several hundred years. When someone was annoyed with something in the community, city or country, they wrote a letter, hoping like a little child at Christmas for a special new toy, that it would be printed for all the world to see. And the "world" back then was probably a hundred people who lived all within walking distance. OK, so I have no idea how many people would read them, but it's unlikely that many considering transportation and literacy rates in the 1700s. Nonetheless, opinions were aired for public consumption, reaction, ridicule and appreciation.

For those who could read.

For the vast majority of folks, reading was unattainable or useless. Perhaps they took their comments, questions, praises and frustrations to the town meeting? I imagine this scene playing out in my head like an episode of the Gilmore Girls: There would need to be a Loralia sneaking in food, a Luke complaining and grouchy all the time, a weird man named Kirk who did all kinds of odd jobs and someone holding the gavel behind the podium who always referenced an irrelevant rule book. Yes, I'm sure that's what it looked like. Exactly.

Fast-forward several hundred years. We live in 2010. We text, tweet and type our thoughts, questions and comments. The art of writing a letter by hand will soon be in the Smithsonian as something people did way back when. Phone calls are a chore and commonly made while on the way to someplace else or while doing something else. When there's a complaint, comment, question or praise wanting to make it's public debut, there is no formal letter composed to the institution we know as the newspaper and rarely does the whole community gather together at a town meeting on a regular basis.

Does that mean that our thoughts, questions and comments are muted? Um...not exactly.

Instead, we text, Tweet, Facebook and blog. We publish our thoughts for all the world to see on the world wide web. One click from a computer or text message from a phone and instantly and thought, question or comment is published to the masses. In some cases, it reaches more people in more places than any newspaper dreamed their circulation would or could reach. They can promote and enhance a career in minutes...or destroy a reputation in seconds.

So I started to wonder...is writing a letter to the editor a lost art? Has the length of this section been cut? Are the letters we read the only ones even submitted? Has the demographic of the author changed from perhaps the passionate, active and involved person who is starting out or in the height of his or her career to that of the person who typically takes time for the hand-held morning paper in the year 2010?

Career Idea No. 42

2010-08-22T16:50:00.000-05:00

Most weeks I come up with a new plan for what I want to do with my life. Now before you go thinking that I'm going to quit my job and return for another masters degree, realize that most of these fall under the category of becoming a host of a television show at the Travel Channel. I'm not quite sure what this program would look like, but once the proposal is finalized, I'm sure that they'll take me up on my offer to adventure around the planet on their dime and talking about it to a camera for you to see at home. Yup, I'm sure of that.

One of the other ideas that has me thinking, "hmmmm...that'd be fun" would be to sell greeting cards. It's not so much of a career idea but more a pipe dream of making pocket change to support my travel habit until cable television realizes what it's missing. So...this afternoon, I opened my craft closets, took down several large plastic bins filled with paper, stickers, glue sticks, magazine clippings and scissors and got to work. Here are today's creations.

Hi, my name is Heather...

2010-08-18T14:51:00.000-05:00

It's been almost three months since I last blogged. Weird. That's the longest stretch since I stared this thing several years back. I'd like to say that it's been because my life's been so busy that I haven't had the chance to sit down and write a thing. I'd like to say that I've been going through something big that's made me keep everything inside a secret on purpose and now there's some big "reveal" for me to post. I'd like to say something that sounds better than the truth...I just haven't blogged.

I've been in Atlanta for almost seven months and my apartment for almost six. I've been back to Austin several times, I went up to DC for a family event and I went home to Chicago for a few days. I broke my toe. I explored Greeneville and Asheville, catching up with old friends. I went to summer camp. I played Frisbee. I ate ice cream.

It's been a summer. Summers for me have historically been filled with more adventures, but perhaps this moving-to-Atlanta thing is just one big adventure in itself. It's a different kind of adventure, that's for sure. Sometimes it's one that I love filled with all kinds of new exciting things. Sometimes it's one that still feels like a pair of beautiful shoes that you just can't make fit on your feet, even though they're the right size and on sale at DSW, where you have a coupon that expires that day. It's good, just different than I've experienced before. And different isn't good or bad. It's just different.

As I sit here and tell myself that I'm going to get to the gym each and every day (joined this week!), I'm also telling myself that I'm going to blog more. I miss writing. I miss words. I miss crafting what seems like the perfect sentence at the perfect moment. So hopefully, I'll be back. More often. Right here.

Hi, my name is Heather...it's nice to meet you...again.

Georgia's on my car

2010-05-21T10:32:00.000-05:00

I woke up early on my day off to go to the Fulton County Building. Several papers, phone calls, one fax and $38 later, I officially have Georgia plates on my car.

Weird.

I said the same thing about Texas when I moved to Austin. I even started saying "y'all." Now it seems strange not to have the Lone Star State represented on my Corolla. I guess that it'll take time to adjust. And one day, it'll be weird to think of anything else as normal.

Georgia's on my car.

Boot Camp: Day 1

2010-05-17T08:42:00.001-05:00

I signed up for boot camp.

4 weeks, 5 days a week.

6 a.m.

Typically, this kind of torture is out of my price range, but the $44 Groupon made it fit in my budget. It's nice to do something besides run a few miles every day. I also learned in a trial boot camp last week with a different company that I have no core strength. None. I may be able to run lots of miles, but besides that, I'm useless. And a wimp. Figure this would add some variety to my wanna-be, chocolate-habit-supporting active lifestyle.

When I clicked the little icon that charged my credit card and registered me, it seemed like a good idea. A great work out, with people, each morning. Then I started thinking about the 6 a.m. start. Which is really 5:45 a.m. Dressed. Outside. In the dark. Ready to run. Literally.

That's when I started wondering what I was thinking.

After a fun weekend, I was afraid I'd be dragging. But this morning actually went pretty well. Of course, it was an "easy" assessment day. We had to run a mile, count pushups and do some sit ups. There were a few other things, too, but I think that this was their way of easing us into it.

Tomorrow, we're "touring the park." I'm not sure what that means, but it should be quite an adventure!

Creative Adventure!

2010-05-01T10:54:00.001-05:00

One of the benefits of moving to a new place is not having a lot of friends or a lot of things to occupy my non-work time. About a month ago, Kim and I met in Greenville, SC, for the night to hang out, eat some good food and pretty much just get away for the weekend. She was my roommate for a year in college, and we hadn't seen each other since about 2003. It'd been a while. She lives in North Carolina, I live in Georgia and her parents have a house in South Carolina...perfect!

Saturday morning, we slept in, went to breakfast and wandered around the adorable downtown area, including in and out of several art galleries. Who knew that there were so many art galleries in Greenville, SC? Not me!

While appreciating the artists' creations, I couldn't help but wonder if I could do something like that?

So upon returning to Atlanta, I went to Hobby Lobby. I came home with acrylic paints, brushes and even some canvases.

This first picture below is a picture of the picture I tried to paint. I took it in the Cinque Terre area of Italy in March 2009. The second is my final product. And yes, I realize that it looks more like a 4th grade art project than what I saw in Greenville.

This was my next attempt. It was inspired by something I actually saw in Greenville. Simple. I like it.

These are two of my favorite quotations...

The writing on this one is a little crooked...gives it character :)

Do Something

2010-04-29T11:30:00.000-05:00

I'm studying Jonah with two different groups of middle school girls. We do one chapter each week. The girls in the before-school-morning group at IHOP are working on not climbing on the chairs at a restaurant, and the evening Bible study is trying really hard to not spend the whole time pointing out every plant and animal in the backyard of the house where we meet. Both groups are spending probably too much time talking about what it'd be like to be inside of a big fish for three days and debate, with great passion, how one would breath, what it would smell like and how exactly he got spit out. Yup. Middle school.

If you have ever worked in youth ministry, you can relate to both of those situations.

I went into leading this book study thinking that it'd be the "same old same old." We'd talk about not running away from God and what it means to do this in different ways on a daily basis. We'd talk about sharing the news of God's grace and how his compassion is never-ending. And we'd conclude with the big finale of how God's love covers even the people we don't like, and we need to learn to see others as God sees them, not following the example of Mr. GrumpyPants (Jonah himself!) at the end of chapter 4.

We made it through Jonah running away from God, the shipwreck and being in the belly of the big fish. Last night, we came to the point where Jonah was wandering around Ninevah telling people about God.

A little background for you: Jonah was an Israelite. He believed in God. God asked him to go tell the Ninevites (a couple hundred thousand people) about God and that they should stop sinning. The Israelites and the Ninevites were not friends. In fact, the Ninevites took it on themselves to make life miserable for the Israelites. But they were still people, and God wanted them to get their act together and to worship and love him. God loves all people, and this included the Ninevites. So Jonah, after running away from the idea for a little while, finally came around to talking to the Ninevites about God.

Jonah's job was simple: Give them a message from God. Jonah was not responsible for what would happen next. If the Ninevites listened to God, Jonah would have been successful. If the Ninevites did nothing, Jonah would have been successful. The outcome didn't matter. Jonah was only held responsible for doing his part. The rest would be up to God and the Ninevites.

This morning, while thinking about taking a few risks in my own life, I realized that the reason I didn't pursue these opportunities is partially because I couldn't control or know the outcome. Duh. OK, so that's not rocket science...but sometimes we're the last one to get the memo on things in our own lives. (Please tell me that I'm not the only one to have ever been standing in these shoes!)

The circumstances for taking these risks could not be better. I could have never dreamed or predicted such a perfect environment or the time to do what is needed to be done. It's so "too good to be true," that if those who are pursuing similar goals discovered the opportunities I have at hand, they'd probably get mad and scream and yell at me for taking so long to thinking about acting on them.

I guess with all that being said, now it's time to do my part and do something. This might sound crazy for the third chapter in Jonah, but please, know that this blog was not meant to be a theological explanation of the text. It's more of a window into the train of thought in my head and the "ah-ha" moment that I had with a cup of coffee, a Sharpie and a journal early this morning.

Project Complete

2010-04-26T07:39:00.000-05:00

I signed up for a marathon several months ago. Then I hurt my knee/IT band/something that caused lots of pain. I stopped running for several weeks. About two weeks ago, I started running again. I did about two miles when I was in Austin for the weekend on my old running route. It was through neighborhoods and nowhere special, but I loved trekking through my former stomping grounds. I returned to Atlanta, kept stretching and managed to complete several other runs.

OK, I could maybe possibly attempt to run the half marathon.

Less than a week out, I ran 8.77 miles. My knee/IT band/whatever felt OK, so I was going to go for it.

Thursday afternoon, I left for NashVegas. One may think of live music and tourist events, but my time there was filled by reconnecting with old friends and making new ones. I saw people from college, grad school and Austin. We did a lot of nothing and a lot of resting. And it was awesome. If you know me at all, you know that I'm not that good at doing nothing and resting. I like to explore and play...all the time. But I am thankful for the time to just BE with people who I've known for more than a few minutes and who know me. It was awesome.

Race day was awesome, too. I ran with a friend who is so inspiring. Seven months ago, she was maybe able to run a mile. Three months ago, on a good day, she was up to three on a treadmill. I suggested that she run the half. She told me I was crazy. But then she registered for the race (maybe she was a little crazy?). Whatever. She did it. She ran all 13.1 miles. And it was awesome. We laughed. We talked. She met one of her favorite music stars and recognized someone from her favorite TV shows.

I'm glad that I did the half, even though my knee hurt a LOT toward the end (if not for Amber, I probably would have given up several miles before the finish line). It was a good time. And it also encouraged me to want to run a full marathon even more than I wanted to before. I'm not sure which one I'll pick for that...maybe Nashville again? Maybe San Antonio? Maybe Austin? Maybe Chicago? We'll see. If anyone reading this wants to run one - ideally on a Saturday - let me know, and maybe we can meet up to put ourselves through 26.2 miles of insanity. It'll be awesome!

Project Update: Half

2010-04-13T07:55:00.000-05:00

I signed up for a marathon about two months ago. It was my new project. I have run a half, but the whole 26.2 is a carrot that has been dangling out there for a while now. I used to think crazy people ran marathons. Maybe that's still true...and I just became one of them. That's fine. I know that it's a little insane to run for so many hours. But the race. The challenge. The crowd. The weeks of training. The hard work. The discipline. It made me giddy to think about these things. My blood would start flowing, and my face would light up. I was going to train for and run a marathon.

Or not.

My IT band started hurting about three weeks ago. It was slightly sore on a 12-mile run that was cut a little short. The same soreness crept up on me on a shorter jog, as well. So I rested it...kind of. I only ran short rans and did other work outs before attempting about 15 miles. That was a mistake. Over an hour from the car and in the woods with two ultra-marathoners, it started hurting so badly that I had to walk - more like hobble - back to the car. It was over. That run, at least, was over. And so were my hopes and dreams of completing the 2010 Nashville Country Music Marathon.

Ouch.

Physically and mentally, that hurt a lot. I thought that I could stretch it enough to get back into it in a few days, but a week later, a 3.7-mile walk to the farmers' market and back caused me to go straight for ice upon returning. So I rested and stretched and iced and stretched and rolled it out with the styrofoam tube of torture. I consulted my trainer friend and did everything I was supposed to do.

And they were right. It all worked. My knee is better, and I can run. At least a little.

But it's too late. It's too late to train up to the full 26.2 in about 11 days.

So now the new project is a half marathon. I can do that. My body can take 13.1 miles...if I can get in a few longer runs between now and then.

It's OK. I was super disappointed at first. I told people that I was still going to try to run the full. I planned out some long runs. It was supposed to still happen. But it's not. And that's OK. I'll run my second half, have a fantastic weekend with friends from all over the country and different phases of life and it'll be a huge, physical challenge after barely running at all this month.

It'll be awesome.

In Community

2010-03-23T16:20:00.001-05:00

I'm training for a marathon.

You probably know that already.

(I blog about it a lot.)

My last long run was miserable. I wanted to puke a little. I was dehydrated. My knee was sore. I wanted to cry. I almost fell on my face trying to step up a 3-inch curb near the end because I was too tired to lift my foot over it in the first attempt. It was awful. I started wishing for an injury. Then I'd have an easy "out" and would be able to bail on running the whole 26.2 miles (even if Amber, Dyana, Kirk and Blair would have been disappointed). Anyway, I digress...

Tomorrow is another long run. But instead of attempting this one on my own, I called my local, ultra-marathon running friends. They're crazy because a "short" run is about 2 hours. They seemed the perfect people to call when I needed motivation to run for about 3 hours. Three hours with two crazy ladies. Should be fun.

I couldn't do this on my own. OK, well, I could, but it wouldn't be as fun. I'd get miserable and tired and sore, and there'd be no one to show me how to keep going when the going gets tough. Without them, I wouldn't have people with whom to chat and pass the time. And without them, there'll be no one to tell me that it'll be OK when I'm not sure it will be.

Life is a lot like that. We need people. We need friends. We need community. It's just better that way.

Would we have been friends?

2010-03-18T08:13:00.000-05:00

If I lived 2000 years ago in Israel, I'm not sure I would have been friends with Jesus.

Yup. You read that right. I said it. I really said it.

I'm not sure I would have liked the guy who told his friends that they were wrong and went against what I was told I was suppose to do my whole life. (That's not all He does. But He does that a lot. It'd be annoying, probably.) Is it that the people he hung out with needed that much help, that they were specifically that messed up? Or was it because living life abundantly called for an addition of love and grace requiring change in everyone who desired to know the Living God on a personal level?

I'm reading through a section of the Bible that was written by a guy named Mark. He's one of people who walked around with Jesus for a few years and then wrote down what happened and what was said. If Mark were around today, he'd be a fabulous online journalist. He overuses the word "immediately," showing the timeline of everything. He tells long stories with a few words and jumps from one action scene to the next. With the way he writes, you'd think that Jesus and the disciples had a transporter to get from one place to another.

I digress. Back to the point.

I couldn't help but notice that Jesus tells his closest friends that they are wrong. All. The. Time. These guys confidently argue for who gets to be Jesus' favorite, they try to stop the little children from getting face time with Jesus and they are convinced that Jesus shouldn't be bothered by some who are sick and in need.

And Jesus tells them that they are wrong. Over and over and over again. I wonder if they sometimes thought that Jesus was being mean? I wonder if they sometimes were a little embarrassed? And I wonder if they were confused as to why Jesus was disagreeing with what they thought was appropriate and fair?

But I also wonder if they saw Jesus for who he was - Lord of their lives - and so his opinions, corrections and answers invoked feelings of clarity, confidence, joy and love...instead of denial, frustration or embarrassment?

We are much like these guys who asked Jesus questions. We want to be favored. We want to control what others do. And we want to protect those who we love the most. We want to be right.

We live in a world that over-emphasises comfort and acceptance. The only time someone ever seems to be considered wrong is if he or she tells someone else that they are wrong about something. There's a perspective that's considered different and right for almost every given question...or so it seems. (I started to include that in this blog and realized that it would be so long that no one would would ever read it, so just go with it, OK?)

Jesus wouldn't fit into this "it's all good" world. He gave answers. Specific ones. Of course, most of the time people asked Him questions, He asked them a question in return, which I'm sure was rather frustrating. But when it came time, He spoke Truth. Yes, Truth with a capital "T." He came with authority and could call his buddies on habits and priorities when they were not in line with God's agenda. And they seemed to be OK with this. We don't know how they responded emotionally or what they said when Jesus walked away after sharing his wisdom, but we do know that they continued to follow him and eventually all were killed for their beliefs, so it's not like Jesus offended them in a way that ruined relationship.

I wonder if I would have walked away? Would I have seen Jesus for who he was and is - God Almighty, Lord of my life - and, in turn, opened up all the junk in my heart, allowing him to speak Truth that lead to authentic and visible life change? Because if I knew deep down inside and trusted in such an incredibly love, it would have been safe and filled with grace and joy. I would have known that His words were out of tender care and mercy. It would have been OK. Or, would I have walked away, wanting to stick to the rules that brought me comfort, never embracing life to the fullest that He so desperately wants us all to live?

Details Matter

2010-03-17T13:14:00.000-05:00

There are probably dozens of blogs written about how running is a good illustration for life. The long race ahead. Preparing for specific challenges. Running with others instead of trying to do it alone. Keep your eye on the prize. Etc. Etc. Etc. Blah. Blah. Blah.

This is one of those blogs.

I went for a 12 mile run this week. Runs like that are reserved for crazy people who think that paying money to run 26.2 miles with a few thousand other people is a fun idea. Well, I've become one of those crazy people - at least temporarily - and now have to do these long runs once a week.

This latest run started out great. I had an incredible amount of energy, the sun was shining and there was encouraging stuff to listen to on my iPhone. (Thank you, iPod application.) I had a large chunk of time, the course was set and my pace was good. It was going to be wonderful, one of those runs where you feel like 26.2 miles is for beginners and start to dream of an ultra-marathon in an exotic location, which can probably mostly be blamed on the lack of oxygen because that truly is crazy.

Then I started to hurt.

But what was wrong? I ate a good breakfast. I had enough water early enough in the day to keep me hydrated but not too much to make me get a side ache. I stretched after a short warm up, which I don't even typically take the time to do. I slept well the night before. I was excited. I waited for perfect weather. It should have been easy.

I was miserable.

By about mile 6, I started to have trouble. By 8, I was taking short breaks to walk the uphill parts, which was often seeing as I managed to discover the hilliest part of Atlanta. And by 10, I had a cramp/ache/pain/something awful in my right leg and had to walk almost the entire way home.

I hadn't prepared.

What?! Not prepared?! That morning went all as planned. Sleep. Food. Hydration. Clothes. Weather. Entertainment. Course. That day, I had prepared well.

Only that day.

The two weeks leading up to this scheduled run, which was actually postponed for at least half of that one day at a time, my life did not reflect that of a person who could even fake being someone who was training for a marathon. I ran three times. I was up too late and awake too early. I was eating like a middle school boy.

I had one of those "duh" moments on my run that made me glad no one could read my thoughts because I felt pretty ridiculous. I had prepared well - that morning - for this long run, but that was it. I couldn't fool my body into thinking it was ready. My legs knew the truth and were screaming so loudly that they couldn't be ignored. I tried. And almost fell over at one point because it hurt too much to life them over the 3-inch curb. Literally. Right in front of this park security dude driving a golf cart. It was a little embarrassing.

I thought I could make it the whole 12 miles easily...but I'm not sure why. I ignored the short runs. I ignored the interval workouts. I ignored eating well. And I ignored resting my body. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure what gave me this ridiculous idea that it would be easy. But I thought sure those short runs, that healthy food and those long nights of sleep were not a big deal. To me. I'd be fine without it.

Yes, as I type that, I'm realizing how ridiculous I was to think that I could just get out there and run 12 miles after two weeks of not preparing well. But keep reading.

How often in life do we ignore all the little things and assume that we'll be fine when it comes to the big stuff? How many phone calls do you have to not return before you get together with an old friend and realize you know nothing about each others lives? How many friends who are married can't get through a crisis after realizing they ignored all the "little things" along the way causing them to "grow apart"? How many students bomb exams every semester because they failed to do the daily homework because it wasn't a big part of their grade? How many Christians lose faith when something difficult happens because it's then that they realize they never really did build up a relationship with God along the way?

Running 12 miles should have been easy. I'm no Olympian, but I'm in decent shape. I've been running regularly for about a decade. But when I failed to do the little things - the short runs, the intervals, the other workouts, the eating right and the sleeping well - I failed when it came time to conquer 12 miles.

Details matter.

Change

2010-03-10T15:48:00.001-06:00

Twenty10 has been full of new adventures.

I have a new boyfriend, have begun a new job and live in a new timezone.

(Unfortunately, the first one of those three is not located in the same place as the second one and is not in the third one.)

In 2009, I was living in Austin, country dancing weekly and eating lots of queso. Lots and lots of queso. And it was good. I ran at Town Lake and planned happy hours at the Domain. People watching was at its best in both. I drove down Mopac and talked about traffic on I35. My ears were filled with live music constantly. I was dating...but not one person consistently. I had quit my job and wasn't working. And I was good at that. The not working thing. I was meant to be independently wealthy.

But then on the last day of 2009, I went on a date. It was no big deal. It wasn't going to turn into anything because I was moving...but it did, and now I have a boyfriend. It's more proof that God has a ridiculous sense of humor when it comes to the timing of these things. Then this job that I had accepted was actually going to begin. In Atlanta. Atlanta, Georgia. That's not anywhere near Texas and in a region of the country in which I've claimed that I'd never live. But now I do. There was a farewell party, we packed the POD and the adventure began.

I left one Thursday morning, stopping at Rudy's to buy some sauce and Whataburger for lunch, and started to drive north. The east. East took a long time. I stopped in Mississippi to see Bubba for the night - most know her as Sarah - an old friend from a camp staff almost a decade ago. (Are we really that old?!) I ended up in Atlanta. At rush hour. On I20. Turning north on to 75/85. This big city of almost 6-million people was to be my new home. And my job started about 45 minutes after I arrived.

I lived with one of the kindest women I've ever met for about a month before finding my own place. It was another set of change-of-address forms and finding another new grocery store. I discovered Chastain Park and the running trails and signed up to run a full marathon. I am adjusting to working at home and spending time alone. I'm planning weekends for visitors - the boyfriend, my parents and other relatives - but am still not sure what this city has to offer. And I'm taking advantage of living in this region of the country by meeting up with a friend in South Carolina in a few days.

Yup...a lot has changed. Some people freak out with all this change. Some people thrive off of it. I'd say that I'm somewhere in the middle, veering slightly more toward the thriving end. I love a new adventure and enjoy meeting new people...but I miss the old familiar and the comfortable. New challenges intrigue me and this new job seems almost too good to be true, but it'd be nice to go meet a friend at the Lake or take a spin around the dance floor at the Spoke. Nonetheless, I'm discovering great restaurants and already have a new community group. I'm going on longer runs and loving the hills...most days. And the change has been good. Very good.

...because that's the way we've always done it...

2010-03-04T06:59:00.001-06:00

"'Neglecting the commandment of God,

you hold onto the tradition of men.'"

Those words were in red. Jesus said them. Mark wrote them down (7:8).

It's easy to point fingers at the Pharisees that ruled and regulated the worship of God 2000+ years ago. After all, Jesus did it too. We stand behind him with smirks on our faces as if to say to the bully, "see, I told you so." Happy, proud and content with the serving of truth that Jesus delivers.

But sometimes I can't help but wonder if we need several servings of that truth. And then a little for dessert. And maybe leftovers the next day.

Is your worship holding onto the tradition of men in a way that neglects the commandments of God?

Starting Over

2010-02-22T11:25:00.000-06:00

I've lived in every timezone in the continental United States since graduating college in 2001. First it was Seattle. Then Colorado. Eventually, I became a Texan. And now, it's Atlanta. I'm on my 4th phone number and 9th address in 9 years.

One might think that I liked moving around...that it was easy...and that this kind of transition was exciting and fun.

I don't. It's not. And, OK, it kind of is. A tiny little bit.

My job and life in Seattle came with built-in friends. I worked in an office with five other recent grads. Two of them were insta-friends, and we still keep up with each other today.

When I traded in excellent coffee, delicious Thai food and overcast, drizzly skies for mountain adventures, academia and the sunniest city in America, it came with built in community. Full-time grad student. Lived on campus. So. Much. Fun. That group of people graduated and moved on, but the transition to life in Boulder was smooth because my life, friends and church all remained constant.

Then I prayed for a year and a half that God would teach me to trust and obey Him more. He sent me to Texas. I cried. No joke.

Austin was a hard move for me...but it had relationships waiting. My big brother lived there for years, and I knew many of his friends. It was easy. Sure, there were some stumbling blocks along the way, but there were people to call, things to do and social events happening.

Then I quit my job and decided to run back to the mountains as quickly as possible. And I did. For a month. But a phone call while driving around Lake Dillon one afternoon started the conversation that would eventually bring me back from Summit County to Austin for a few months before moving...to Atlanta.

I always said I'd go anywhere but the deep South.

Never say never.

But it's Atlanta - not the "deep South." Not really, anyway. But it sure is new. It's new and unfamiliar. There are about four street names and 400,000 streets. It's hilly. Everywhere. So I decided to train for the Nashville Marathon because it's a hilly course and a fun race. Besides, I have all the time in the world to run with an empty social calendar. At least not one that was easily double and triple booked on a regular basis. At least with options to be.

Now I'm starting over. From scratch. Well, almost scratch. I've known my closest coworker since elementary school...but he's married with a baby on the way. There's one girl with whom I graduated high school...but we hadn't spoken for almost 13 years. One friend from youth group is in the suburbs...with two young children. And then there's one friend from Boulder who just relocated for a similar job...living in the suburbs, as well.

So there are a few people that I know, and I'm thankful for them. But this time, it truly is starting over. I've met new people. But they're new. They don't know my story, and I don't know theirs. We don't have shared memories. There are no "remember when" moments that make sense.

Yet.

That's what I have to keep telling myself. Those relationships will develop. There'll be people I can call if I just want to hang out and do nothing. I'll stop depending on my iPhone GPS like it's a source of oxygen. And one day, I'll have someone to whom I can turn and say, "remember when..."

Updating the List

2010-02-11T09:13:00.004-06:00

About a year ago, I posted a list of things that I want to experience in life and realized the other day that this needed some updating. It was originally in a journal from about 5 years ago, but I wanted to get ideas for more fun things to add to it, so I put it on my blog. Here's the latest version...enjoy!

dance as though no one is watching you,
love as though you have never been hurt before,
sing as though no one can hear you,
live as though heaven is on earth."

What would you add to it?

Experience Italy - March/April 2009, my mom and I had an incredible adventure!
Take gourmet cooking classes - including desserts!
Write a book
Get married
Be a mom
Run a marathon or complete a triathlon
Learn to play guitar
NYC!
Climb a 14er in Colorado - Gray's 7/4/06 and Quandry 8/06
Go Sailing
New England in the Fall
Highway 1 in California
Central/South America
Africa - Kenya Nov. 20-Dec. 5, 2005, Egypt Nov. 2007
Another degree?
Read the Bible continuously from Genesis to Revelation - started in 2005 & completed in 2007
San Francisco
Ireland
Greece
Extended short-term missions
Speak Truth
Buy a bike - with the help of some incredible people, I did this in September 2009.
Buy snowshoes
Work at a church again - Starting in October 2006 Associate Youth Director in Austin, Texas
Build the dream business with Amber
Give a YS Seminar
Ski when I'm 80-years-old
Live in Kenya or overseas for a short while
Continue friendships from all the places I've lived
Sante Fe
Publish magazine articles - first one in 2005
Be a speaker
Russia
Egypt - Nov. 19-25, 2007 with Michael (brother) on the way to Israel...Cairo, Luxor, Dahab, Sinai, Cairo
Alaskan Cruise
Singapore/Thailand
Take dance classes - Swing: Lindy Hop & Charleston 9/6/08
Swim with dolphins
Mountain bike in Moab - June 2005 with Jenny, Anna, Amanda, Emily and Tara
Boston - visiting Laura Davis August 2005
U2 concert - Denver 4/20/05
Israel/Middle East - Israel with Michael and his church, visiting Kelli & Jeremy Brown, November 25-December 8, 2007
Skydiving - June 3, 2006 with Becky Sears & Julie Arnett at Mile High Skydive in Longmont, Colorado
Not work at a church again
Honduras, while Anna is still living there
Caving/Spelunking - October 2007 with Heather, Heather, Alexia, Jeremy, Mark, Jeshua and Peter in Austin
Play classical violin...again
Be spontaneous
Work at a coffee shop - Starbucks in Denver August 2002-January 2005
Live in Colorado - Denver/Boulder 2002-2006
Feel "home"
Cook international foods - I do this sometimes.
Wine tasting in Sonoma
New Zealand (Australia)
Love people well
Always write letters...hand-written, real letters
Write freelance full time
Finish the scrapbooks that have been started
Heli-ski
Ski Whistler/Blackcomb
Learn to golf
Go to an NFL Game
Go to a NHL Game
Mizzou Homecoming, as an alum
Visit Las Vegas - August 2008 with Julia Welch
Ride a motorcycle- 12/30/09...Thank you, Dominic!
Never stop asking questions
Sing Karaoke...loudly
Learn to play poker
Learn Spanish
Learn Greek
Climb Manchu Picchu
Visit Cleide in Panama

My new project

2010-02-10T15:54:00.000-06:00

I just signed up for my first marathon. I'm a runner. But not a real runner. I run to support my chocolate habit or when I'm stressed or too busy. I run a few miles here and there...for kicks, nothing special.

But today, I signed up for the Nashville Country Music Marathon. I ran on some trails this morning for 2 hours with some women who run ultra-marathons and didn't want to die, and so I figured that in just over two months, I could train up to the whole 26.2.

Stay tuned...

It's just a number.

2010-02-08T07:51:00.001-06:00

When I was 14-years-old, my tennis coach asked me when a person was considered "old." I distinctly remember considering the fact that he was about 28- or 30-years-old himself before answering "32" with confidence.

32 is not old.

When I was 22-years-old, young adult groups were those of us in college through mid-20s. People in their 30s were ancient.

30s are not old.

When I was 25-years-old, a friend in her mid-30s told me about how she decided to run a marathon the year that she turned 30. I distinctly remember thinking that was crazy for someone so "old" to do if he or she was not already a runner.

30 is not old.

Now I'm 30-years-old, 32 is right around the corner, I'm a wanna-be runner who decide to sign up for a marathon in April (and am not crazy!) and people in their 30s are my peers.

Yup...it's just a number.

It doesn't feel real.

2010-01-26T10:20:00.000-06:00

I woke up early this morning to finish packing. There's a lot to get done.

Then the phone call came. The POD arrived. The POD that we'll pack tomorrow night. The POD that will hold my stuff in storage while I live with Laura and look for an apartment. An apartment in Atlanta. Atlanta...as in Georgia. I'll register my car, get a new drivers' license and write a different zip code on the top, left corner of letters sent.

Yup. I'm moving to Atlanta. Thursday morning. That's less than 48 hours from now. And that's weird. Really weird.

When I moved from Boulder to Austin, it was such a whirlwind that I didn't have time to think about it. I resigned my job on September 1, my last day was on the 15h, I accepted a new job that same evening, and I moved three weeks later. It was quick. There were goodbyes, but there was not much time for tears after the initial shock. Leaving Colorado was like ripping off a bandaid quickly. It hurt, but it wasn't until several weeks later after the reality sunk in that I wasn't on vacation visiting my brother. I wasn't going to be able to hang out with Amy, there were no more runs with Carolyn and Julia and happy hours with Julie on Pearl Street were a thing of the past. I unpacked, got settled and figured out life in Austin.

Life in Austin has had its ups and downs. I'd like to say that the last 3+ years were filled with nothing but happy memories. But there have been challenges and hurts. There have been loses and frustrations. And there have been disappointments and heartbreaks. I'm thankful for all of it.

Nonetheless, it's mostly been good. It's been full of life, friendships, laughter, joy and incredible memories. As usual, God has a plan and it's better than mine. I'm not surprised. It's just the way things are, and I love it. I love life.

I should be packing right now. There's a LOT of stuff still scattered all over this place. Stuff that goes in boxes. Stuff that gets wrapped up delicately. And stuff with which I'm not quite sure what to do.

It seems as if my life here in Austin feels the same way. There are some things that I can put behind me. There are experiences that are no longer part of my life. They may or may not have left deep impressions in my heart, but either way, they're over. They brought me to where I am now and will forever be a part of my story, the one that God is writing with my life, but they are sort of packed up for now. I'm not dwelling on or interacting with them.

Then there are those parts of my life that need tender care. There are details that call for my attention, and I need to be cautious with how to handle them.

And lastly, there seem to be some areas that leave me a little confused. What will it look like to move and trust God with these things? Are they experiences that are ready to become a part of the past...or is there something left? How does one wrap up home and truly relocate to a completely new environment without leaving a little piece behind?

This move has been a longtime coming. I came to the realization that I'd be leaving several months ago. There was no defining moment, but starting in August, I knew that leaving Austin was a possibility, even if the location was undetermined. That possibility became a most-likely while I was playing in the mountains of Colorado sometime in October. However, even then, I figured that I'd be returning to Denver. I was wrong. By the end of November, it was a definite. And that definite was Atlanta. I was sad, but it didn't feel like I was leaving much behind.

Then I fell in love. I fell in love with the warm weather. I fell in love with live music. I fell in love with community. I fell in love with the food. I fell in love with the culture. I fell in love with Austin. I fell in love with Texas. I fell in love with the Hill Country. My only responsibility for two months was to have fun. And have fun is what I did.

(Honestly, I think that I was meant to be born independently wealthy; I'm quite good at this not working thing.)

So now it's sad. It's sad to leave friends. It's sad to start over. I even started dating someone wonderful, of course - God has a ridiculous sense of humor. Saying good-bye to him will be one of the hardest things I have to do this week.

As I leave these things behind and say good-bye to familiar faces, I'm making room for new people and new adventures. I have a job waiting for me that's a dream come true. I have coworkers that are excited for my arrival. I have students that I will surprise me. I have eyes wide open with high expectations. I expect God to work. I expect relationships to develop. I expect to feel "at home" in this new place. And then this whole "moving to Atlanta" thing might just start to feel real.

Sabbatical

2010-01-07T12:01:00.001-06:00

September 15, I told the world, at least my world, that I was leaving my job at the church. I would no longer be the Associate Director of Youth Ministries after three absolutely insanely chaotic and beautiful years. I loved that job, that church and those people more than I thought I could - so much that it hurt, but it was time to leave. Sometimes, the hardest thing is the wisest thing.

Teary-eyed, I wrote a letter to the congregation and started planning three very busy weeks of breakfasts, lunches, coffees and dinner. I spent time with people who had changed me. I spent time with people who made me laugh. I spent time with people who encouraged me. I spent time with people who challenged me. I spent time with people who invited me into their lives with incredible grace. It was a gift.

My last day at work was Wednesday, October 7.

Five days later, on a Monday, I packed up my car and started driving. To Colorado. It was amazing. 30 days at "home." I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I fell asleep at 7 o'clock the first night I was in Colorado Springs. Apparently, I needed it. I laughed, explored and reconnected with community. I was able to participate in a friend's wedding and all the excitement leading up to that. I played with the cutest children in the whole wide world, slept in, read books for fun, ran in the mountains, drank coffee and laughed. A lot.

I returned to Austin for only a few days before heading to Atlanta. Job interview. Youth Ministry Convention. 15 hours back in Texas. Chicago for Thanksgiving.

December.

The two months since I left my job flew past quickly. I blogged daily while I was in Colorado - mostly pictures. But then that faded. Christmas parties, The Broken Spoke and concerts occupied my nights, and errands, working out and lunches filled my days.

In the process of deciding to leave my job, I made a list of all the things that I wanted to do while I was unemployed. I slightly feared getting bored. I wondered how I'd fill my time. There were projects that had been stewing in my mind for years. There were books that I thought I should read. There were potential adventures to be had. There were goals to be met. There was a list. A rather intense list.

It was a fun list. A list about which I was excited. Nonetheless, like so many other times, life unfolded differently. I am continually busy. Fun busy. I am continually looking forward to my days and wondering where the time goes. I thought I'd blog more. Like every day more. But, as you can see, I've barely posted at all since returning to Texas. I'm not sure why or how or what I was thinking. It just didn't happen. At first, that made me a little frustrated with myself. But I'm OK with it because I'm OK with how much time I've had to rest, play and laugh. I have no idea how I fit a job into my life and am actually sleeping in.

Yes, I'm sleeping in.

[For those of you who know me well, sleeping in regularly is actually shocking. Yup. Go figure?!]

With all this time and life, I realized the other day that I'm feeling like "me" again. In the process of stepping back from my last job, someone who is older and wiser told me that he had seen me struggling. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to prove that I was OK. I wanted to show the world that circumstances couldn't negatively effect me like that. But they did. And I was exhausted.

The idea of rest in the Bible is generally referred to as a gift. God didn't set the example after creating the world because He needed it. I mean, after all, he's God. He is not required live within the bounds of the world that He created. He gave us the Sabbath because He knew that we needed it. He knew that we'd be tired. He knew that we'd work hard. He knew that we needed time with Him and physical rejuvenation. He gives us rest.

My situation was unique. Rarely can a 30-year-old, responsible person take four months to not work. God used circumstances I could have never predicted to give this gift of rest. And I am thankful.

But now I'm ready. I'm ready to get back in the race. My feet are positioned on the starting blocks, and I'm starting to crouch down. The gun will blast, and I'll start to run. I have a job. It stats in about three weeks. And I'm excited.

Tears will flow when the good-byes actually happen. There will be hugs and laughter. I'll have a whole new community and city to miss. I'll drive out of town on I35 probably wondering what was thinking when I agreed to move across the country. Again. But it's good. Now that I'm rested up for this next adventure.

It's simple.

2009-12-10T10:23:00.000-06:00

"God loved.

God gave.

We believe.

We receive."

-Andy Stanley

And the winner is...

2009-12-07T18:00:00.001-06:00

Upon leaving my job in October, I ventured on a 30-day, 3746.2-mile road trip to Colorado. It was wonderful, fabulous and beautiful. By the end of my time at "home," I had decided in my own head that Colorado would win. As much as I love Austin, country dancing, queso, my friends in Texas, the lake, tubing, the road biking culture and live music...it couldn't beat the mountains and my life in Colorado. The decision was easy: move back as soon as possible, preferably before the ski season would begin.

But I left that glorious state with one little detail still hanging out there...a job interview in Atlanta. I agreed to go mostly because it was a good friend who had called. I was heading to Georgia anyway for a youth ministry conference, so it was easy to change my ticket to enjoy some Southern Hospitality for a few extra days. I didn't have anything pressing in Austin, so why not?

Why not interview? What's the worst that could happen?

I move to Atlanta.

OK, so it's not the "worst," but it definitely is the most unexpected. And I am, in fact, moving to Atlanta in January 2010.

So that's what I've been up to since I last blogged. I was here in Austin for almost a week - just enough time to go out dancing a few nights, eat some queso and take my road bike out for a spin. Then it was folding clothes and repacking those tiny travel bottles of shampoo and off to Atlanta for the interview and the conference. Besides getting offered pretty much my dream job (location preference still up for debate) and seeing friends from Mizzou, Denver Seminary and summer camp, the highlights were flying the senior pastor's plane (OK, OK...so I only actually "flew" the plane for a few minutes while we were smoothly sailing in the blue sky) and ditching one night of the conference to go to a David Crowder Band concert. It was a good week. Good enough to convince me to move there.

Then it was onto Chicago for a quick Thanksgiving visit. It'd been almost a decade since I've eat turkey in Elmhurst for the holiday, and it was a surprisingly great trip home...I even reconnected with a few friends from high school youth group who I hadn't seen in years.

It was nice to return from travels to enjoy Austin to the fullest before relocating to the world of SEC football. Although, you can be certain that I'll still be cheering for the Mizzou Tigers. I've been dancing. A lot. Mostly at the Broken Spoke. Some at the Continental Club. I've been spending time with friends and visiting some Austin favorites, like First Thursdays on South Congress. And I'm on a mission to eat at all the best taco joints around town before I bid Texas farewell. And I still have a over a month to play...many more adventures to come!

"Here, I'll hold the camera," says the pilot, "you fly!"

Chaille, a friend from Mizzou, at the Youth Specialties National Youth Workers Convention in Atlanta. We hadn't hung out together in about a decade. He now lives in Virginia and is a volunteer youth worker. Good to reconnect!

David Crowder Band: Church Music

The Heathers, all dressed up for the 2009 Red Door Party!

3746.2 Miles

2009-11-11T10:00:00.001-06:00

These miles from Austin to Colorado and all around that glorious state were made possible by the following sponsors, their incredible hospitality, amazing generosity and never-ending kindness, as well as their basements, couches, blow up mattresses and guest rooms:

Laura of Abilene;

Nancy and Rick of Colorado Springs;

Fraser, Liz and Nathan of Centennial;

Jon, Anneke, Jack, Hannah and Mary Grace of Summit County;

Amy, Mike and Bri of Lakewood;

Carolyn and Matt of Denver;

Becky of Gunnison;

Angie and Aaron of Louisville;

Veronica and Holly of Loveland;

and Jessica of Denver.

An honorable mention goes out to the following:

Mike, Amber, Bella, Rebekah, Pam and Nate in Colorado Springs;

Jennie in Boulder;

Marlyn in Aurora;

Jon and Donna's Party in Denver;

Celebration Church in Denver;

The Wheelers in Arvada;

Julia's Bachelorette Party in Denver;

Julie's Basement in Louisville;

Julie in Boulder and Louisville;

The '80s Prom Party in Washington Park;

Julia's Wedding Shower in the Highlands;

Andrea and Keith in Denver;

Hilary in Salida;

Becky's Friends in Gunnison;

Dillon Community Church;

Julia's at her New House in Denver;

Jenny in Louisville;

Larry & Brad at Denver Seminary;

Elizabeth in Denver at City Park;

Veronica in Fort Collins;

Group Publishing in Loveland;

Rocky Mountain National Park in Estes Park;

All of Julia and Sean's amazing friends & family

celebrating for their fabulous wedding;

and First Presbyterian Church of Boulder

and all the great people there.

I miss y'all!

Stream of Facebook Consciousness

2009-11-10T20:57:00.001-06:00

I drove from Colorado Springs to Austin today. It was a long drive. I left at 4:08 a.m. Mountain Time and arrived just before 8 p.m. Central Time. 871 miles. Lots of caffeine. Lots of sugar. I'll be awake until Thursday. My Corolla and I had a good trip. And now I'm home.

"Dear Colorado, I miss you already. New Mexico just isn't the same.

And I'm scared of West Texas. The End."

"OK, Texas, it's you and me, for the rest of today.

We can do this. Concentrate. No construction. Good weather.

Lots of coffee. And probably a Sconic drink. Let's go. Game on!"

"Heather Werle would like to break up with West Texas.

It's boring."

"Heather Werle is ending her relationship with West Texas

and getting back together with the Hill Country.

She'll be in Austin by tonight!"

(Not that you can see this...but it was the first sign I saw for Austin.)

The Scenic Route

2009-11-09T21:54:00.000-06:00

I drove around Colorado today. Yup. That pretty much sums it up. I started in Denver this morning and headed up to Summit County. I had some stuff to pick up before heading back to Austin. Typically, this includes the long tunnel by Loveland Ski Resort. However, seeing as it's been gorgeous and sunny lately, I took the scenic route, around the mountain and over Loveland Pass.

My next stop was Colorado Springs. Seems easy enough. 70East. 470. 25South. Easy enough...but boring. So instead, I headed toward Breckenridge, went through Fairplay and over the mountains in Woodland Park, arriving in Colorado Springs just in time to drive past Garden of the Gods as the sun was starting to set. Gorgeous.

Here are a few pictures of the scenic route. It was so gorgeous, I had to pull over and take it all in, seeing as I'll be saying good-bye to this absolutely incredible state tomorrow...which is sad. Boo.

Lastly, these are the Ericksons. I pray that one day I'm as hospitable and generous as these two kind people who have welcomed me into their Colorado Springs home once again.

Boulder, Pete's, Sloan Lake & Jessica

2009-11-08T19:50:00.000-06:00

Today felt normal. I woke up, went to church at First Pres Boulder, caught up with old friends after the 11 o'clock, ate Illegal Pete's for lunch, went on a l-o-n-g walk, took a nap, hung out with Jessica while doing chores and am spending an nice Sunday evening at home. Well, it's not my home, technically, but it's my 10th home on this road trip all over Colorado and the one that Jessica, a college roommate, owns in the Highlands neighborhood of Denver. It was a normal Sunday. I like normal.

Looking West

Downtown Denver

A thousand words, a thousand smiles & a thousand laughs...

2009-11-08T01:34:00.000-06:00

Free Food: It just tastes better.

2009-11-06T11:17:00.000-06:00

After making friends with the coffee shop guy at the The Red Trolley in Denver and explaining that I'm on the unemployment diet when he tried to sell me a breakfast sandwich, he offered it for free. And free food just tastes better. Yum.

If you're ever in the Highlands area of Denver, check out the Red Trolley on 32nd street. It's great! And not just because of the free food...

Gem Lake

2009-11-05T20:53:00.000-06:00

I first discovered the hike up to this lake with Giancarla in May 2001. We had both graduated college over the weekend and decided in about a 2-minute conversation that driving to Colorado the next day was a good idea. We were wrong. It was a great idea. On our adventure, we headed up to go hiking in Estes Park (where else do you go hiking, according to us midwesterners?) thinking that Rocky Mountain National Park would be the perfect choice. It was perfect. But we had to pay for perfect. Being totally broke recent grads and still unemployed, we asked the guy at the gas station where we should go to hike that would be free. He gave us directions to a trailhead behind the Stanley Hotel and down the road from MacGregor Ranch. It sounded perfect. And that it was.

We wandered up the mountain to discover a precious lake at the top. You could see out over all of Estes Park at points, and by the time you made it to the big bowl that held the past season's snow melt, you were hidden away in the mountains, far from everyone and everything. We probably talked about the jobs that we would get and the fabulous places we'd live. And we most certainly felt hardcore, outdoorsy and adventurous.

Just over a year later, I found myself moving to Colorado from Seattle. Giancarla was still back in Chicago, but so much had changed since that Memorial Day conversation. I was starting Denver Seminary and going to call this glorious state home for a few years. So, of course, during my time in school and years following, I sometimes found myself back at this same trailhead that lead you into Rocky Mountain National Park...without paying because there was no ranger station.

I took Steve and Elisa there, two high school newspaper friends who visited. Joel Mitchell and I hiked together. He stopped in Denver on a road trip from Princeton to Seattle. We had interned together in Seattle and were both in seminary. There were many afternoons spent there alone - when I most wanted to get away but didn't have that much time. Annaliese joined me once when she first moved to Boulder, too. Kirstin and I headed up to Gem Lake after we had both moved away from Colorado - her to Portland and me to Austin - when we flew back to see Tara & Jess get married in Estes Park.

Today, after visiting Group Publishing and having lunch with former coworkers, I drove up 34 through the canyon, turned right at the Safeway, went around the corner by the Stanley and past MacGregor Ranch to the same trailhead. I passed it the first time by accident and had to turn around. The little, gravel pull off that was a make-shift lot for hikers had been replaced by a paved road and nice parking area. But it was still the same wonderful, Colorado hike - not too long and not too short, perfect for a beautiful afternoon in the mountains.

Oops! Wrong choice in shoes...oh well!

Wilder Park

2009-11-04T22:22:00.000-06:00

There was this park in between my house and elementary school when I was growing up. It housed the worlds tallest polls down which to slide, the widest slide ever and the most incredible collection of monkey bars. The tire swing went faster than anyone else in the whole wide world, and we could climb higher than the trees.

This one guy whose name I can't remember - he broke his leg going down the polls with his gloves on when he slid to fast and collided into the ground abruptly. And Erin, she puked on the tire swing. I fell the monkey bars countless times, and I think Erica broke her arm in the forth grade. You see, the park was so huge and mighty and wonderful that it was even dangerous.

Best. Park. Ever.

Seriously. You think that your park could compare. And no. You'd lose.

Wilder Park was a kingdom of wonder and adventure. It was saved for field day and other occasions. Like my birthday party. It was special.

One of the things that made this magical corner of Elmhurst so wonderful was that it was an old fashioned, wooden structure built over wood chips. You don't see a lot of parks like that anymore. Everyone's afraid of splinters and skinned knees. Splinters and skinned knees made you tough. They were part of the risk. You don't see parks with large, metal slides. You might burn your bum on a hot summer day. But climbing up them without getting hurt and sliding back down without allowing an inch of skin make contact with the silver sheet of death...well, that was the whole point. Parks like that made you tough. Parks like that are legendary.

This afternoon, in Denver, after catching up and laughing with my two favorite grad school professors and before driving to hang out with Veronica for the night in Fort Collins, I went on a walk with Elizabeth around City Park. I've been to City Park before. Only a few times, but still, I've been there. But I've never noticed the playground before. I've never noticed this wonderful piece of adventure built in the middle of Denver. It was a true, old fashioned, wooden park. It called our names. We answered and went over to the swings. My favorite.

It was a good day.

Crested Butte

2009-11-04T12:30:00.000-06:00

Dear Mountains,

2009-11-02T23:43:00.002-06:00

You look so beautiful covered with snow under the bright, blue skies. I love you. The End.

It's not summer camp anymore...

2009-11-01T16:18:00.006-06:00

I've ventured to Gunnison 11 summers since 1991. It's the cozy mountain town that Western State College calls home. Every year, it's included one afternoon in Crested Butte. And every year, it's been as a middle school camper or being somewhat responsible for middle school campers.

But this trip is different. I'm not responsible for anyone else this time. I'm not constantly counting heads. I'm not answering questions about what we'll do next, how to fix a headache and who said what to who that was such a big deal. I'm not worried that Michael will get lost or the 9th grade girls will meet local junior and senior high school boys. And there will be no "afternoon activity" lists including Wal-Mart or shaving cream fights.

You see, Gunnison, Colorado, is not only home to Western State College but also The Great Escape - my most favorite middle school camp ever. You can learn more about that here. I've also blogged about it. You can see pictures from 2007 and 2008, read stories about Mrs. PacMan, see why I love it so much and laugh at tales of 8th-grade girls trying to set me up with someone who was "cute for an old guy."

And I love camp. I really do. But this weekend is different. It's weird. I'm not wandering around spending four hours looking at every trinket they sell on main street in Gunnison. We're not eating ice cream in Crested Butte because it's sunny and gorgeous outside, but cold enough for there to be snow on the ground. We're not looking for coffee to stay up late for night games.

Instead, we're drinking a good, local beer in a pizza place just below the gorgeous ski mountain that is eagerly collecting snow for the season to begin. Becky, the friend I'm visiting who calls Gunnison home, is preparing a pathophysiology lecture for her class at WSC tomorrow morning, and I'm playing with picture projects, blogging and reading a good book.

It's different than my normal Gunnison and Crested Butte adventures. And it's wonderful.

Here's to vacation...cheers!

Becky & Her Office

Mears Hall...oh, so many broken windows...

Taylor Hall...and the lawn where so many shaving cream fights, Ultimate Frisbee games and middle school dances have taken place.

Mount Crested Butte

Good Afternoon, Crested Butte!

The mountains hiding behind the ski town that I thought were so gorgeous!

Becky

2009-10-31T21:19:00.000-05:00

We lived in Boulder at the same time. Becky left in 2005 to wander all over the world, sometimes living in a tent, and ended up in Gunnison as a teacher at Western State College. I left the 20-square-miles-surrounded-by-reality and immigrated to Texas in 2006. She's probably the most welcoming and approachable person I've ever met, and I am blessed to call her my friend and her house my 8th home on this Colorado adventure.