Philippians 4:12-13

In this season of my life, I've more than once shook my fists at the sky and cried out. I've wondered why?, I've sobbed why?, and I've screamed why?. I've had ups, and I've had a lot of downs. As my mom sometimes says, it's been "feast or famine." My life is either 100% wonderful: surrounded by friends and laughter and adventure-- or it's 100% disastrous: exam after exam, loneliness, and stagnation. In a summer of mostly Internet classes, it's hard to establish a routine. Sometimes I rejoice in my freedom: I've gone to Sweden and Chicago, white water rafter, road tripped to Mississippi, watched a handful of classic movies... And sometimes I watch endless reruns of Friends and lay on the couch for hours. When it's good, it's great, and when it's bad, it's pretty awful.

Yesterday, I was reading in Psalms and I ran across this little gem:
"For God alone my soul waits in silence;
from Him comes my salvation.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken."
Psalm 62:1-2

I shall not be greatly shaken... not "I shall not be shaken." The world's going to shake me, my own thoughts are going to jostle me, and I will never escape discomfort. I'm embarrassed that my thoughts sometimes look like this: I'm a good person, I pray daily, I volunteer, I'm not a sloppy drunk, I don't sleep around... so why me? where's my happy ending?
The fact is, this life I've chosen... this whole Christianity thing I've subscribed to... this Savior that gave His perfect life for me... It's not a "Get Out of Jail Free" card. When I gave my life to Christ, I didn't get a perfect life in return, but a perfect salvation bought with perfect blood and a perfect eternity worshiping a perfect Creator.

So I'm going to be shaken. Weekly, daily even. But I will not be GREATLY shaken because there is nothing in this world that can shake up that which matters most-- not break ups or disappointments or loneliness or guilt-- "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39)

Don't get me wrong: I'm not looking forward to the bumps. I'm not thrilled about the inevitable shaking, and it'll probably hurt all the same... but what a hope we have in Him! The next time my very soul cries out from the pains of this earthly life, I pray that I will remember to wait in silence for Him: my rock, my salvation, my fortress; and I will not be GREATLY shaken, though shaken indeed.

Forgetful Me

Life can be overwhelming sometimes. In the midst of tests, due dates, and running reading assignments, it's easy to overlook what's good in life.

Sometimes I forget what wonderful people let me call them my friends. I forget how much fun I have just sitting around and talking in the code of our inside jokes with Lee, Alisa, and Adam. I forget how affectionate Anna is, and how she gets real joy out of simply being a good friend. I forget how Erica is my sarcasm soul mate, and how I feel like I'm somehow funnier just because she's funnier. I forget how people used to think Lauren and I were twins, even though we look nothing alike, just because our every mannerism mirrored each other. I forget how much I love being single because my guy friends are so precious to me: deep talks and obscure movies with Josh, big brother advice from Ben, sweet hugs and antiquated chivalry from Joe, outrageous conversations with Trey, knowing looks from Blake, reliving memories with Jacob, comparing teacher notes with Justin.

This week I have been spoiled by my friendships. Heath, Josh, and I saw Inception last night, and Heath honked my horn at so many strangers I wanted to cry. Josh sweated through a plate of hot wings and didn't filter a single thought as they poured out of his mouth. We struggled to make sentences after our minds were obliterated by Leonardo DiCaprio and the Inception gang, and we laughed. Most importantly, we laughed.

Tonight I went to Lee and Alisa's and watched Arrested Development with the newlyweds and Adam. We could barely pay attention to the show because the right word set off ten minutes of inside jokes and rolling eyes. Adam and I petitioned for bunk beds in the guest room, and it took all four of us to go through the check out line at Piggly Wiggly for a single roll of cookie dough. And so we laughed; for hours it seems, we just laughed.

Tomorrow night is girls' night. I love a good girls' night from the relationship talk to the gossip to the thousands of inevitable snap shots. I love the desserts and the giggles and the freedom to be the uncensored you. We're going to the best Chinese restaurant on this planet, and then we'll go back to Erica's house and talk about the 5 pounds we just gained. We'll talk about who's next to get married and what colors they'll use, and I-- the lone single lady-- will weigh in on my fantasy man. And we won't just laugh, we'll giggle... and we'll probably feel the effects of our giggles in our ribs come Friday morning.

This weekend one of my best friends is getting married to a beautiful girl who has quickly become one of my good friends. Ben and I have sustained a very sibling-like relationship for years, me calling him out when he's out-of-control and him offering hours of unwarranted advice on life and dating ("You're too much like a guy, Linds, you've gotta ditz it up sometimes"). I can't wait to see it all... the flowers, the dresses, but especially the look on Benjy's face when Hannah walks down the aisle. I'm sure I'll sob, and Joe will undoubtedly be uncomfortable, but later we'll dance and take pictures and eat too much cake. And we'll laugh and beam as we wish them well.

The thing is, my friends aren't important to me because I can't make it on my own. I am sustained in the Lord and richly blessed with a wonderful family. My friends are important to me because they are the cherry on top of the sundae of my life (cliche much? but really, the cherry is crucial, otherwise it's just an ice cream scoop and syrup). My friends are the flavor of my life: in the silence of a movie theater, in the tears of a break-up, in the side-splitting laughter on any given night.

I'll have to try not to be so forgetful.

Small Town Charm

That was sarcasm. Here begins a story of my mid-morning collision with the Clampetts, if the Clampetts did recreational drugs.

My dad called me around 10:30 this morning to see if I wanted to join him for lunch. A father-daughter lunch sounded nice enough, so I dried my hair and headed into town. When I picked Dad up where he was waiting at the tire shop, he informed me that our time was limited and he needed to be back to the tire place by 11:30. Arby's it is, then. On our return, he tells me, "Oh by the way, I have to be in Arab by noon, so if my car's not ready you'll need to wait for it."

Let the record state that I had plans at noon as well (a trip to Unclaimed Baggage that merits it's very own blog post), but with minimal, completely justified complaint I hopped out of the car and handed over my keys as Dad assured me it would only be 20 minutes longer.

Our story unfolds as 20 minutes turned into 30 minutes and 30 minutes blurred into 45. Somewhere in the time lapse, a rag-tag group of three-- two men, one woman-- stumble (literally) into the waiting area where I was quietly reading a Southern Living magazine. So much for quiet. It didn't take much eavesdropping-- this was not purposeful, by the way-- to pick up that this little trio had busted their tire on a curb while trying to "dodge a cop" (their words, not mine) and had then walked to our local tire place, picking up McDonald's along the way.

This is where it gets charming: in between f-bombs-- "it is so effing hot" and "this mothereffer is so effing delicious"-- the woman gets a phone call. She answers, looks at her male companion and says, "Tammy wants to know when y'all are gettin married." I wish I was kidding when I say his response was a shrug and, "I don't think I can get my ID today." I don't know much about his relationship with Tammy, but it sounds romantic and passionate to me, the stuff dreams are made of.

The rest of their conversation had to do with Tammy losing $15 and blaming it on her soon-to-be husband, whom we'll call Bobby for lack of ID. Bobby had no idea where Tammy's $15 went; he had been outside smoking a blunt and never actually went inside, so he obviously didn't take it. Fancy-- that's what I'm going to call the lady of the group-- swears that Tammy was too "effed" up to know where her own money was because Fancy herself had given Tammy 3 Klonopin before work and Bobby had given her two after work. Bobby claims that Tammy had taken some Z's as well, which I'm pretty sure mean Xanax but I'm not exactly hip to the jive of drug lingo.

There was also some talk of selling their food stamps and "beating the breaks off" Tammy, but I was mercifully called to the cash register as Fancy plotted against Tammy, who, bless her heart, has a clear drug problem.

In my defense, I wasn't listening in on Fancy and Bobby (the third person was only involved for a few seconds before he retreated back outside for a smoke break), but the waiting room was small and otherwise silent, and they hardly made an effort to keep to themselves. I can only feel sorry for the small Latino child and the elderly man sitting in the waiting room with us.

I know two things for sure: Tammy should watch her back tonight, and my dad is on his own for lunch for the rest of the week.

D-Now

This is just a quick note while I'm so excited:

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in my bedroom working on my homework in my pajamas when my dad called me upstairs. I headed upstairs without a second thought-- pajama-clad, no make-up... ya know, summer grunge. Color me shocked when I see our church's youth minister standing in my living room. The last time Russell and I had a chat was just a week after "the break-up," so you can imagine it was weepy and difficult. I immediately thought I had walked into some kind of intervention.

Okay, so it's noon and I'm still in my pajamas and haven't washed my face, but it's summer! I'm fine, really, 100 percent. Totally okay. Healed and renewed, hopeful and glad.

Those are the thoughts that were swirling through my head as I thought we were about to have an impromptu counseling session in my living room. But no-- and again, I kick myself for being surprised at God' blessings-- instead Russell asked me to lead a girls' group at this year's Disciple Now.

I've posted a few of my little grad school nuggets, so you may know that I feel very drawn to work with middle school and high school girls. For months now I've been praying for God to use me in some way, whether through church activity or just a moment's conversation when I'm subbing, in this age group. I am beyond thrilled about this calling.

I printed off the lesson plans tonight, and this is huge. So huge. God's going to do an amazing work in the youth of Guntersville in August, and I feel so blessed to be a part of it. So this is a call to prayer for anyone reading-- that God will begin working on the hearts of the students, that God will use me as a vessel for His works, that lives will be changed and souls won for Him.

I mean, really, I'd be just as excited about going to Disney World.

Natural History is lost on me.

Having discovered that nothing in Chi-town opens until after 10 am, Dad and I had a lazy morning today after Mom headed to her conference. We had Dunkin Donuts again (not my fave, but it's right next door) and then heavily researched our Thursday night entertainment. Unfortunately, the two Second City shows were completely sold out. Our other two options were the Million Dollar Quartet, a re-enactment of a historic jam session featuring Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and some other guy, and an improv show called ComedySportz. After much debate, we bit the bullet and bought tickets to ComedySportz (it came highly recommended by our saleslady yesterday at HotTix).

Next up, we headed toward the L. Yes, Tim and I decided to try our luck with the Chicago Transit Authority. We bought day passes, and I'm pretty sure I'm now an L pro (okay, there was that one mishap at the end of the day when I led us into the ghetto, but we all make mistakes). We took the train into what I believe is East Chicago for lunch and the Field Museum of Natural History. We lunched at a restaurant called Yolk, which was fabulous. It's kind of like IHOP, but better. The French toast was excellent, and the fresh-squeezed strawberry-orange juice was phenomenal. Aaaaand I just might be a coffee drinker after all.

The Field Museum boasted a giant sign featuring Sue, the most complete T. Rex skeleton in the world, and promises of a 3D movie called "Waking the T. Rex." They had us at "3D." Who would've guessed a museum movie would be educational? There were no Sharp Tooth versus Long Neck battles, there were no high-energy, gory attacks. Mainly it was information on collecting fossils, the woman Sue was named after, and a little bit of computer animation here and there. Snoozefest. We also went to exhibits on Mammoths and Mastodons, Ancient Egypt (which was mildly redeeming), and soil (woohoo!). But hey, we would've always wondered about that 3D movie.

Our next adventure involved me guiding us out of Chicago on a train going the opposite direction of the city, but that was quickly and easily corrected. And now we are safe and sound in our little hotel room-- which reminds me, apparently Al Capone and his men lived on the third floor of the Hotel Allegro (my current home sweet home) at one time. Neat.

Tonight we're going to Mia Franscesca, an Italian place near the improv theater. Italian is far and wide my favorite food group, so I'm not sure if I'm more excited about the restaurant or the improv. There's sure to be a review on both tomorrow.

And speaking of tomorrow, we're headed to the airport at 8:15 in the morning, so our Thursday night affairs bring our little adventure to the Land of Lincoln to a close. Not a bad midweek trip, if I do say so myself.

Now, where was I...

I meant for this to be one solid blog of our first 24 hours in Chicago, but things got a little tense with the roomies when no one would pick where to eat...

So after Petterino's we came back to our hotel room because I had to take a quiz for an online class. Mom flipped the ol' sound machine (her personal lullaby) on around 10:00, so Dad and I read by computer light (we've come along way since candlelight) until a more decent bed time. Yeah, we're really party animals. You probably couldn't hang with us.

We started today off with Dunkin' Donuts (conveniently located on our block) and a stroll to Millenium Park. This park is full of photo ops, from the giant fountains to the immaculate landscaping to the ridiculous sculpture-- and I think I have a future in contemporary art, as Dad and I are convinced any three-year-old could do it.

Post-park, we hit Hot Tix, your half-price theater ticket destination. We bought tickets for our show tonight-- Shrek the Musical-- and chatted up the sales lady about her favorite shows (she's really into artsy-fartsy stuff, for the record... we were looking for sketch comedy). We decided to take a "leisurely stroll" to Navy Pier to catch a lunch cruise-- unfortunately, our leisurely stroll turned into something like 2 miles. But ce la vie-- we were on the way to an all-you-can-eat buffet. After strolling up and down the Pier and taking in a little free AC via the Stained Glass Museum (a real thriller, by the way), we boarded our ship: The Spirit of Chicago. We used and abused the buffet and then settled onto the outdoor deck to admire the skyline from Lake Michigan... or Lake Erie... tomayto, tomahto. And that's where the magic happened.

Sure, the sights were delightful, the lighthouse quaint, and the narration interesting, but the real show was brought to us by one of our fellow travelers. Ladies, gentlemen, Britney Spears, and other celebutantes: we are in the Windy City. This is indicative of the presence of wind. Don't play dumb, don't make excuses: you knew there would be a steady breeze here on the lake. So when you chose your black mini dress and high heels--and don't get me started on your travel-savvy outfit, princess-- and leaned over the boat rail to enjoy your cig, surely you felt a draft as your dress lifted and swayed in the wind.

I know what you're thinking, readers; I know you're thinking that's a little harsh... even if your dress were blowing in the wind, your undies would surely protect your fanny from the draft. Well, sure, IF you were wearing underwear you'd have a perfectly legitimate excuse. However! Our dear friend was not in fact wearing drawers today on the Spirit. So there on Lake Erie-Michigan-Hugo-Whatever, in the middle of the day, we were exposed to a full moon.

Moving on.

Next up: adventures in public transit. Now this is exciting because Disco Tim isn't known for his Daniel Boone sense of direction. I want any Friends fans to recall the episode where the crew travels to London for Ross's marriage to Emily. Joey's map has pop-up structures for landmark buildings, and he puts it on the ground and stands on it to orient himself when trying to get around. Hopefully you get the visual. Luckily, I was there to guide us home.

Tonight we ate at Tavern at the Park-- I had scallops, Anna-- before heading to Shrek the Musical. We've just returned from the show, and I give it two thumbs up. The last show I saw was Wicked, and that was a tough act to follow... so while it wasn't the best show I've ever seen, it was very enjoyable.

I'm not sure what's on the agenda for tomorrow, but I'll keep you posted... get it? like a blog post...

Don't ask for unsweet tea: all tea is unsweet tea.

That is the sweet reminder I provide my dad with every time we travel. As if his Southern drawl, barely decipherable above the Mason-Dixon, weren't obvious enough, his request for "unsweet tea" draws the inevitable, "You're not from around here, are you?"

We touched down in Chicago, in the Land of Lincoln, yesterday around 3. After an AC-less cab ride into the city, we needed an hour in the hotel room (which is approximately the size of a matchbox) to let our clothes air out (graphic, yes, but it was THAT bad). Next, we went to Petterino's, a bistro-style restaurant in the Theater District. We sat outside, at Cheryl's insistence, and it wasn't long before I regretted this decision.

Let me take you back to a time several years ago. Picture it: London, 2003. Unfamiliar with international travel, my folks and I arrived a few hours before we were able to check into our hotel. Deliriously tired from an overseas flight, we trudged to the nearest McDonald's-- adventurous, I know-- in search of coffee and Coca-Cola. There we sit, crabby and tired and sipping our caffeine-friendly beverages, when I noticed a woman sitting across from us rambling on. At first there was a waitress behind her clearing used trays off the top of the trash can, so I assumed that's who Crazy was talking to. Before too long, though, the waitress was gone and Crazy's rant continued.

First mistake: eye contact. As soon as my little eyes connected with Crazy's, I had purchased a one-way ticket to Wacko World. It wasn't long before Crazy was yelling at me, accusing me of murdering her friend Terry. Dad thought she was possessed, Mom went the schizophrenic route, and I just prayed for delivery.

Fast forward to our dinner last night at Petterino's, and wouldn't you know Crazy's long-lost American cousin found my little family there at our sidewalk table. At first I wasn't sure Crazy 2.0 spoke English, but every ten words or so I made out a phrase: "...was a marine...," "buy me a sandwich," "in Iraq they pay to get killed." We got a solid 5-minute-feels-like-eternity speech before he wandered off to one of our neighbors. Oh, but he came back. I, resident loonie magnet, had learned my eye contact lesson. Not Captain Fun, though. Oh no, Never-Met-a-Stranger-Tim was wide-eyed and fully engaged as our street friend rambled on.

Eventually, he was scared off by neighborhood law enforcement, and our evening resumed it's normal touristy track.

More adventures from Chi-Town coming your way after dinner.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

This past weekend I made the three-hour journey to Auburn, AL. I lived in Auburn for three years while I worked on my undergraduate degree (I spent the last semester in Tuscaloosa doing an internship... or "mission work" as I like to call it). These three years were probably the happiest in my life, as I did not love high school like so many others. Now going back to Auburn sparks a joy in my heart that I have trouble describing. The atmosphere, the culture, the town (yes, town... not dirty, crime-ridden city) all seem perfectly-tailored to me. On top of that, I made the best friends a girl could ask for while I lived there. My trip this weekend included my favorite restaurants in Auburn (namely Big Blue Bagel, yummmm), pedicures, dance parties, and a sermon by Steve Scoggins at First Baptist Opelika. In a word, the weekend was perfection.

Now for the worst of times... While I was having fabulous times with friends in Auburn, something tragic happened.

Those who know me know I have one true love in life, one man that I have an automatic "pass" on regardless of my relationship status, one man that I will love always and forever:

John Burke Krasinksi

You may know his as Jim Halpert from The Office, but I know him as the love of my life. The total package, John is tall and funny, stylish and intelligent. His lack of ego is endearing, and his boyish grin is charming.

But this weekend... allow me to gather myself... this weekend, John got married. John pledged his eternal love to Emily Blunt. Now, Emily is cute enough and she's not a bad actress... And sure, that British accent is probably adorable... But the truth is the Young Victoria actress just isn't good enough for John.

She just isn't... ME.

Now, if I were an adept blogger-- think Perez Hilton-- I might would "paint" devil horns or something on Em... but as I am not, you can assume I'm just above that.

John, darling, I want you to know that I'm still out here, ready and willing to pick up the pieces if it doesn't work out. Until then, I'll mourn this loss.

Circumstantial Persuasion

In lieu of an actual blog, I thought I would post a little nugget of my grad work. Right now I'm taking a class called Career Development. I pinky promise this is a legit, required grad school class... but the assignments are very touchy-feely, find yourself assignments... and this is one of them.

Disclaimer: I'm not knocking my program. I think classes like this are thrown in to give us a breather from other classes, like Lifespan Development, where I read over 100 pages every two days.

And here, ladies and gents, for your reading pleasure, is my road to career development (and the first two sentences were taken from a list; I was supposed to choose just one):

- ---- I considered a number of options seriously, explored each one, then picked one. Choosing my work involved a deliberate decision-making process.

- ---- It seems as though circumstances led me toward my career. I’m not sure I chose my career as much as it chose me.

I was at a crossroads between these two because I can see them both at work in my life. I am what most people refer to as Type A (although after watching Module 7, I think I’m probably Type E), and somewhere in high school I started frantically searching for my career path. I stress easily, so I need a concrete plan when it comes to anything serious in my life, and then of course I need Plans B, C, and D. From an early age, I wanted to be a doctor. In high school I made sure to knock out dual enrollment Biology and Calculus. I researched med schools from UAB to the University of Kentucky’s exchange student program with Auburn. I talked to local doctors and sought out advice at every chance available, even cornering doctors in my church after the Sunday sermon. At 18 years old, I was well on my way to being Dr. Lindsey Hays (but of course I was going to hyphenate my last name when I found Dr. Right at UAB). Somewhere along the road, though, circumstances started leading me elsewhere. I took a Pre-Medical Career Orientation class, in which the professor doomed us all to failure. I struck out in Chemistry, and I dreaded labs. So I started my search over, but this time I wasn’t looking for the quickest route to a chosen location. Instead, it was like spinning a globe and stopping it wherever my finger landed: Healthcare administration? Sure, why not?! Human Development and Family Studies? It’s worth a shot! During my time in HDFS I found myself leaning toward Marriage and Family Therapy. Several semesters as an undergraduate research assistant assured me that I did not, in fact, want to be a therapist, but I did still want to be in counseling. Then one summer working with high school girls in a camp setting did me in: I could tie counseling and high school students together in one perfect profession: school counseling.

So here I am. After meeting with the school counseling people and my advisor at Auburn and countless e-mails between Dr. Carmichael and myself, I have finally arrived at career identity achievement. And I think it is the result of both serious exploration and circumstantial persuasion.

Motivation Needed

My autofill filled in my blog title, so I've obviously had a blog titled "Motivation Needed" before... which begs the question, why is there such an apparent lack of motivation in my life?!

Last week I ran at least 2 miles everyday before breakfast. Today I ran 1.5 and tuckered out.

Last week I ate grapes and watermelon for snacks. Today I just finished off a piece of Mama Ruth's pound cake.

Last week I was awake and in the gym by 8:30 am, if I could even make it that long. Today I begrudgingly moved from my bed to the couch during the commercial break of the 10 o'clock Gilmore Girls showing.

I'd like to blame the holiday weekend, but the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday so I refuse to harbor negative feelings toward it.

I need a tennis buddy or a biking buddy or a work-out buddy. I have pent-up energy and, while I love movie nights, I am dying to do something active. I need to sweat (and when I see myself type that I wonder who I am exactly...).

With that said, it's movie night. For years I've had the urge to knock out the 100 Greatest American Movies, and that ends tonight. With the public library closed today, we could not locate Citizen Kane. My worn-out copy of my Casablanca is in my apartment, and as I'm at my parents' house we have resorted to the number three movie: The Godfather. I've seen Eclipse twice in the last week (that's right: Twihard. Loud and Proud.), so it's time to get back to the classics to make up for my dive into teen angst.

Tomorrow, I'm going to finish my homework for the week in advance-- instead of waiting til Friday when it's due-- because Friday I'm going home. And by home, I mean Auburn University. I haven't been there since February, and if you are familiar at all with my life you might note that February wasn't exactly rainbows and unicorns for me. I think of Auburn the way I think of my family... with a love and warmth that I can't quite put into words. Make all the cow college jokes you want, that's fine by me. I'm happy knowing that I love everything about Auburn, from the first 'Auburn University' sign you pass just outside of the fisheries to the lemonade and toilet paper flying at Toomer's Corner to the red brick dorms and perfectly manicured landscapes... and not just the football team (although I have no complaints there either). Win or lose, I will get teary-eyed every time the eagle flies and I will grin from ear-to-ear when I drive down College Street and I will never miss Scoggins' sermon on a Sunday in Auburn at FBCO.

I'm getting giddy just thinking about it... and maybe that's just the motivation I needed.