Hap-pee-ness

 

Happiness is like peeing your pants—everyone can see it but only you can feel its warmth.

Yes... I went there. Insert Billy Madison scene, “You’re not cool until you pee your pants,” and splash some water around your crotch area.  No, this epistle will not be about how to successfully pee ones pants (PM me if you need pointers) or how to become potty trained (are we really every 100% potty trained? Really? haha). Instead, this will be about happiness. Joy. Confusion. Being lost in this world, which there is nothing wrong with that. I will type crossly about why my favorite quote is, “not all who wander are lost/ or aimless,” and explain what hap-pee-ness means to me.

If there is one thing that frustrates my mom about who I am (there are many more issues), it is that I have a wandering heart. She hates it because it means I can never stay put, in one place, preferably in Idaho. It’s a no bueno situation since all she does is worry but I realized when I went to college, about 1,200 miles away, that I seek a portable home.  I have struggled for a long time with what “home” meant to me. Turns out, for me, “Where thou art, that is home” (Emily Dickinson).

I have found so much joy in being lost. Primary example—Peru. This was an awesome trip I took with one of my best friends, Spenser. He was the perfect fit because he loves adventure, hiking, willing to try new things; basically anything. “Basically anything” became fatal one day for him after saying yes to too much alpaca and guinea pig the night prior in Machu Picchu …but there is a different time to discuss stomachs adjusting to Peruvian food and altitude sickness. Back onto subject—being stranded. It was day three, adjusted to altitude sickness drinking loads of cocoa tea (about 12,500 ft above sea level) and we were on our way up through Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu. The bus dropped us off on a corner, literally, with our bags and gear, and said “adios!” No joke. So we waited for a van from our hotel to pick us up; it was “planned.”  Two hours later, with a white girl and Japanese looking man still standing on the same corner, white girl decides to take it upon her to find a pay phone. Heck, she took two years of high school Spanish, could interpret graffiti on the buildings (words like “diablo”—such a safe neighborhood), everything was under control.

Pay phone found; coins inserted; hotel contacted; hotel notes pickup time two hours ago but says to take a taxi. Sounded smooth, right? Well… it only took about 20 minutes to find a pay phone, another five minutes to figure out the “coin” situation, and then add at least 10 attempts to dial the number. I did make three friends who, after having a good laugh at my obvious struggle, pointed out my issue. You will never know what the issue was but it was a “palm in face situation.” So… phone is ringing-- so thankful this person had good English!  Insert breath of fresh air. They say sorry for missing us at the corner but to take a taxi. Doesn’t sound horrible except its dusk outside and I get to walk back to my travel partner and explain the awesome news. One of the best things about Spenser is that he laughs at everything like I do.

 

Laughter at the corner ends, now we move on foot to find a taxi. Dusk becomes dark as we have our bags walking through this random town of Peru. We continue laughing and joking that we are going to die because both of us are amazing travelers and didn’t have a cell phone or any other way to notify family (not the best “How to travel abroad safely” tip). About a half mile up a hill, stroke of luck, we see a line of taxis. I show the driver the address, he nods, pops open his trunk for our bags, we get in the backseat without hesitation, and the drive begins. Remember how I said Spenser and I were joking about dying? We really thought the driver was taking us out to the middle of nowhere and we were going to vanish off the Earth. Seriously. Why? 15 minutes –ish (it is hard to keep track of time when you are panicking), driving crazy on a dirt road, hitting huge bumps, us catching some major taxi air, and its freaking dark! We can’t see ANYTHING but the stars. Insert panic laughter and awkward dying jokes. “At least this was a fun ride,” my last thought started to trickle in (humor never fails). Next thing I feel is a sudden stop, dirt flying all around (windows didn’t roll up all the way), and the driver honks. HONKS!?! What the hell is going on?!  This is it. THIS. IS. IT. That was surely a gang sign honk that notified someone, somewhere, that they had stupid Americans with him. I’ve watched the movies… I’m white, from a very small town in Idaho, remember?

Weirdly, a little door opens, magnifying this HUGE solid wooden gate, and a stranger hops through. Words were said, the man walks back through the door, now this gate opens. It was a whole new world (start singing Aladdin). Hello five star hotel! Hallelujah!  Fist pump in the air! Spenser and I do what we know best—laughed at the entire situation for the rest of the night, jumped on beds, and laughed more. And get full body stone massages. They practically forced us. So horrible…

So why did I tell you that story? Most of the time in Peru we were lost and it was awesome. There was no itinerary if we didn’t want to do a tour or go for a certain hike or attend an event. We ate what we wanted, went where we felt like going, talked with strangers who tried to sell us cocaine and marijuana, and tried not to give away all our money to the incredible, penetrating, little brown eyes on the streets asking for help. Seven days of unplanned events that made me truly happy.

Not all who wander are lost. I love this saying, very fitting for what my heart desires. There are some days I take a drive to somewhere, not caring how long or what the destination is; but I enjoy what’s around me and, most importantly, what happens. There was one random drive I took that I had the joyous event of a popped tire—I changed the tire on the side of the highway and Charlie Mike-d. That experience made me feel free, invincible, like I couldn’t be stopped as long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other.  In college, a group of us would play the dice game—if the dice rolls on an even number you turn left, if it roles on an odd number you turn right. It’s these little things, the simple moments of who you are lost with, rather than what you are actually doing. There was laughter, overwhelming moments of joy telling insane stories, and playing the infamous “never have I ever” game. It was living life, being real, authentic with one another, letting down little walls. It was quite simply freedom in the purest form.  Not worrying about the next thing in life, or trying to figure out how to fit in the mold that everyone thinks you need to be in, but just living in the current moment. I have never had a dull moment when “lost,” but rather have experienced/seen raw events—some good, some bad, but nothing that has killed me. These events humbly opened up my eyes.

It’s too easy to forget that we are living because we are so focused on the future or hurt by the past, that it leaves us distracted and we overlook that we are indeed ALIVE. You are breathing. You woke up today.  Whatever storms you went through, never forget that it is often the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars and sometimes you just have to let things go. You see, we opt for so much noise/technology to distract us so we don’t have to spend alone time with ourselves, hearing our own thoughts or how we “feel.” Fact is we will never really get over something until we actually spend time dealing with that “something.” I dare you to sit with that event(s) or word(s) spoken to you for longer than 180 seconds. In silence. Or just sit in silence for five minutes, clearing your mind.  We spend so much time guarded that we feel so comfortable drawing lines, working so hard to create our world—but we forget that those same lines that  keep us guarded, feeling safe, also keep us from stepping out and saying “yes!” to an amazing adventure.   

Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of traveling.  Getting lost is not a waste of time. You have to meet people where they are, and sometimes you have to leave them there. The worst feeling is when someone makes you feel special, then suddenly leaves you hanging and you have to act like you don’t care at all. A person’s actions will tell you everything you need to know. I hope that you climb a mountain so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. It is always our own self that we find at the end of the journey. The sooner we face that self, the better.  Your lessons come from the journey, not the destination. Too often we are so preoccupied with the destination, we forget the journey. Good words to absorb.

 

 As FY 13 comes to an end, I look back and realized that I marked six things off my bucket list.  Joined the military, traveled to Virginia and North Carolina —visited UNC campus, watched a Tar Heels men’s basketball game, couldn’t resist the A Walk to Remember scene (two places at once on the border of VA and NC)— and Veterans weekend at Arlington/Washington, D.C.. Also, visiting old friends in Iowa, having priceless roomie time with my two best friends who understand me (that’s an understatement), and visiting my battles/sisters. Hard to believe this year brought me six flights (four to the east coast… I might be getting the hint?), visiting seven states, and next year alone at this moment I have four weddings to go to (none in Idaho), one multi-country overseas/backpack trek and one multi-state hippie/ couch surfing adventure to start planning. Time to start counting my pennies! And find someone to travel with.

I may be turning 27 in December, single, no dependents, and not a homeowner. That stuff doesn’t bother me…well, maybe getting wrinkles but no SPF can prevent that one. At my sensitive age I would most regret:  not making time for my friends and family; not enjoying nature on hikes, fishing and camping;  letting people in my life forget  that they are special to me; holding grudges and letting my past determine my future; not being me; forgetting how to laugh and poke fun at life’s events; saying no to change/adventure; mixing priorities of life up; forgetting my faith and love of servant hood; becoming too distracted that I forget to have eyes to see and ears to hear; and letting someone’s limitations transfer over and stop me. There is that saying, “live with no regrets,” that so many people quote—kind of like YOLO. My mentality is – I have nothing to lose but everything to gain, so why not try/do everything. When it comes to dreams/goals/bucket list, the common denominator is me. I can be my best friend or worst enemy. I’m just lucky enough to have realized that I need to travel, to engage with strangers, to see/experience the world, have awesome raw awkward moments, and crazy adventures for my soul to have peace, joy, and happiness. I feel fortunate to finally know what makes me happy. I also feel fortunate to have the friends and family that I do, too.

I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.

JUST GO. GET LOST. 

Not all who wander are lost,

Whit

 

Soccer AKA futbol. Love of the game.

Some people like the endurance sport and others find it pointless to run around chasing a ball. To each their own, but all I know is that soccer has brought good people in my life and has taught me countless valuable life lessons. I’ve learned in the Army that most people just want one or two take-aways from anything lengthy. Feel free to go to the bottom after Warrior Pose 1 comment!

My freshman year in college I had a professor, who I am very close with now, who tormented me in his computer technology class. I’m talking about calling me out in front of the class, having me stand up and answer questions, or even moving me towards the front of the classroom just so he could “see” me better. I’m an introvert; I belong in the BACK of the class!!! What brought this torture on? I had a soccer shirt on. His immediate response when I walked in, ten minutes early to class (who knew no one showed up until one minute prior to class?), no one in the classroom, “Soccer?! You know that’s the communist sport taking over the world?!” in his booming football coaching voice. I froze. Insert panic, sweaty palms. Fidgeted, did an awkward double check the room number and class schedule just to make sure I didn’t accidentally step into the wrong class. Nope. This was the class. This was the professor. He moved me upfront and started calling me Withrow and inserted communist sport comments here and there, along with why people chase a ball around a field for 90 minutes just to end up in a tie. I would make sarcastic comments back saying soccer players don’t need time outs, four quarters, and a 20 minute halftime, just to play 60 minutes of football that takes three hours to complete. This torture became enjoyable before midterms.  It became hilarious when I was complaining about this professor to a fellow freshman calculus student who finally confessed before semester end that it was her dad. Insert priceless awkward moment. They are my second family in Iowa/Kansas who I cherish.

Soccer wasn’t an easy sport for me to get into. In fact, it took a great man, Dave Peoples, to convince my parents to let me play in fifth grade. I still remember him coming over to my house multiple times to discuss soccer. At this time I had only known football -- playing on my brothers seventh grade tackle football team. I have never even watched a soccer game. With much persuading, my parents allowed me to play soccer and never looked back. I’m still convinced Dave Peoples saved me in letting me get to know the love of soccer. His motivation, vision and charisma kept me in the game for three years before he passed away. The team got black “DP” bands and wore them each game. In high school and college, I continued to wear my “DP” band, always thanking him for this amazing gift, every scrimmage, every game. He was/is one of the greatest people I have ever known. It’s so hard to believe that this past September marks 14 years…

Another Dave entered my life in high school-- Dave Goldstein. He was a soccer college coach in Oregon who started actively talking to me after my freshman year in high school. The Boise soccer club team I was on wasn’t working out with my schedule so he asked me to join his U-19 team, FC Perigrinos. Yes, it’s Spanish and a Mexican bird, and no, he was the whitest/hippy soccer coach you could ever meet.  I didn’t care about the name or color of our jersey (BRIGHT yellow!). I cared about the integrity of the coach, his vision, how he treated us younger players playing three levels up, and our development as soccer players. I enjoyed his honesty in our individual style of play. If we were sucking, he would tell us; if we did something well, he would let us know. He let my vision take over whenever I played; never restricting me, holding me back. He let me, be me. He gave me total freedom on the soccer field. His coaching philosophy was canny, direct and enjoyable. The biggest take away I took from three years with Dave—he would coach us during the week and he would bring his chair on game day and sit down. I remember asking why he sits and he replied, “You guys know what you need to do from training this week. I’m here to watch you guys play the game.”  I loved that concept! John Wooden is one of my favorite coaches to read about coaching philosophy (yes, he is basketball, which is still a great sport) and one of my all-time favorite books to read, “Wooden,” John is quoted saying, “failure to prepare is preparing to fail.” How easy and simple. Dave passed away while I was in college during open heart surgery. There is a picture that I was given my senior year in high school basketball season that I have on my wall—it shows me dribbling across a screen, you know doing a sweet move, preparing for an awesome assist to the post (those comments are dripping with sarcasm), but that’s not important. The people in the background—my sister, nephews, brother, mom, and Dave, all sitting right behind the bench.  Its these moments when you are older that you wish you could go back in time and relish, sit there and enjoy their presence, support, and love. Two Dave’s who have greatly impacted not only my life but my coaching philosophy and how I want to impact the players I coach.

I fell out of love with soccer for a long time. Quite simply, it was no longer fun but more of a burden. Junior and senior year was not the greatest on or off the field… out of every bad thing there is good, right? There is that saying, “those who can’t play, coach.” Injuries lead me to be an assistant coach, learning how to warm up keepers before games, working on practices, setting up fields, watching film, and how to progress drills to meet the final goal of the week. Something inside of me awakened that had been dormant for so long. Passion. Desire. Love.  Soccer is powerful, wrenching on the body and mentality. It’s not a giving sport. There are no time outs. You will make mistakes but you move on. Sometimes 90 minutes goes 120 minutes and you just have to keep going. When you stop running, you lose. Soccer is a paradigm of life.

When I got back to Idaho after six months of playing Army, an old friend (we’ve known each other since we were five years old) asked me to help coach a U-13 girls team. At first I was hesitant because I didn’t know if I was ready to be back in soccer. It’s hard to teach something you have a love/hate rollercoaster ride with... but I couldn’t say no. I’m so thankful to be coaching them because they have given me time to fall back in love with soccer. They certainly do have me wrapped around their feet with their unfiltered mouths talking about the strangest topics (unicorns and ketchup?), their laughter, them being 12 year olds talking about boys not focusing on practice, me yelling at them to focus and stop talking about boys and dances… such a blessing. Being around them and seeing their love for soccer has transferred over to me. I show up to practice and they all yell, “Whitney!” and when practice is over they always say, “thank you.” Their hearts are on the field and it’s amazing that they will completely surrender them to you as a coach. It’s also scary as hearts are so easy to break.

Two quick stories about the U-13 team…  1- This upcoming spring moms have asked for me to teach the girls how to change a tire, jump a car and fix a mountain bike chain; moms want to empower their daughters! This all came about when I helped jump start a players vehicle after practice—I was doing the hand signals for another car to pull up to the hood, had my jumper cables ready to go and one of the moms asked, “Wow, Whit, you know what you are doing. Did you grow up with brothers?” The daughter responded, “Mom, she’s Army. She can do anything.” I laughed and said yes to both. 2- Went to my first yoga session to support Niki's (coach of team) dream to be a certified, all out, yoga teacher and head to Chicago in a couple weeks. I was getting my mat ready to go and one of the soccer moms camp up to me and puts her hands on my shoulders saying, “I have to tell you that [daughter name] talks about your six pack all the time. She even said at practice when you are playing with them and you sweat how you can see your abs. She wants abs just like you!” I couldn’t help but literally laugh out loud, as did Niki. Def a compliment booster! (It also helps when the shirt is tucked into shorts/pants, gives a "leaner" look (haha)). It put into place the motto, “be careful what you say and do because little eyes and ears are listening and watching you.”

Almost done, don’t worry. Feel free to do Warrior Pose 1 at this moment.

Love of soccer. Love isn’t about you; it’s about the other person, your teammates, organization. The minute you start thinking love is all about you, that’s when greed and selfishness are gained, but your vision of the game is lost. I would always preach that soccer is all about K.I.S.S.—Keep. It. Simple. Stupid. The only thing on the soccer field that doesn’t sweat is the soccer ball. If you are working harder than the soccer ball then you are losing the game, tiring yourself out mentally and physically. You won’t be ready for any overtime. Take a step back and look at your life—if you are worrying about the future and regretting the past, then you are losing the game of the present. Yes, there are a lot of sucky people out there that have bruised your heart but maybe it’s almost halftime for you, you’ll get a break and you can change your lineup. The score isn’t final until the whistle blows. Guess what? In your life, you are the ref which means you have the whistle.

Not all who wander are aimless,

Whit

... scars

Scars. This topic has been brewing in my mind for the last month. Not quite sure what brought this topic up but it has not left me since. For easily over 30 days now, my ears have been overly sensitive to pin-pointing hurt when people talk about their past or future. So why scars and why now? These two questions may never be answered but I am continually seeking and trying to have an open mind.

There are two types of scars that I am most familiar with. The first type is the typical someone broke your trust, stole from you, or betrayed you. These scars can be healed over time. The second type is (in my opinion) the popular one but no one wants to talk about—someone has deeply hurt you and you seek revenge (sometimes people are not the best judgment of character), or someone’s actions/words changed the course of your life. These scars are put together with super glue but remain infected, looming, growing in size. They seem unforgivable. 

Take a moment and ask yourself—am I thankful for that scar? Yes, I am asking you to see a different side of your pain, your dark moments. I am asking you to realize that maybe that scar made you stronger, a warrior, and a better person to others. Sometimes it is hard to let go of a scar because it is all we have known as a driving force in our life. It is a crutch when something goes wrong. There is no more time for the scapegoat, but fix your eyes on who you are now. Fact: the past is the past and nothing you do today or tomorrow can change that. So stop trying. Simple, right? There is a great quote by Soren Kierkegaard: life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

It is hard when you ask someone about their past or what they want to do with their lives. If you truly want to get to know someone, do not ask about goals. No, that is a vague answer and it allows the person to maintain their walls. Instead, ask them who they want to be or what they want to overcome. Listen carefully not just to the words, but listen to their passion on the subject, and the peaks in their story. People give away their fears and damages in their past to anyone who will listen. The key is caring to ask  the right question (avoid yes or no questions) and listening to the cues for an invitation to dig deeper. This is my favorite part: digging when invited. I do not dig to know juicy details about someone’s life or to see what horrible events they have overcome. I like to prod because I have found out that in life we have not always had someone to walk through with us in the dark valleys. Maybe it even feels like everyone has become distant. Reread that last sentence. What are the odds of all your family and friends becoming distant at the same time? Unless you won the lottery, bought your own island and said, “Screw you all,” why couldn't it be YOU that has become distant from everyone else? Seems like a good time to re-check yourself.

Somewhere along your journey in this jagged world, you forgot who you are and that you could possibly matter in this world. It’s a slow fade from who you were to who you are now.  Then all of a sudden inserts a panic, could possibly be known as a mid-life crisis, and remorse steps in as you mull over your past and where you should be. No regrets, right? Yet, we all have them. We all have valued security over being truthful.  Quoting Parker Palmer, “refusal is risky, so we deny our own truth, take up lives of ‘self impersonation,’ and betray our identities.” Isn't it ironic that we are born “unique” but that is the first thing we continue to try to change – who we are? Ian Wallace asked, “Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?”

I never really understood the power of “inner healing.” In fact, I was probably someone who laughed when someone talked about it. I laughed because of the condition of my heart and then Jesus pointed me toward that direction. Simply put-- I will never be the same insignificant, insecure, women in this world. I had an amazing spiritual leader who would walk with me, talking about everything, trying to see where God was. This caused me to realize that there is only one reality. One. Not two or three. How many realities do you live with?  How many masks do you hide behind? Aren't you tired avoiding yourself yet? Are you willing to open your sealed vault and explore your true self? If you said no, you are normal. Why? Because that is opening something you want sealed, never to think about, ever again; it is dark and unwelcoming so why jump. Maybe you have even tried to black out the event.  If successful, the event is still there just hiding in the darkness. Being able to name your hurt/pain is powerful, not weakness.

This past week I met up with some family members for lunch to celebrate birthdays. As I was listening to family tell stories, which they are excellent at, my grandma started talking about one of her “friends” back when she was a little girl. She talked about how a ring was stolen by her friend when grandma was showing it off at school, being able to recall her friends name along with others around her. Grandma did not have a lot growing up so possessing a ring to this caliber was a recent occasion. After all the kids around grandma viewed the ring, passing it around to the group, the ring never came back. Grandma even asked her friend and she denied taking it. To this day, 60+ years ago, this young girls name remembered, trust is tainted, and the scar remains, unhealed.

Scars have the ability to remind us that the past is real. They remind us that we are triumphant, warriors of our conquest.  They also remind us that people have been scared by our doing. So the next time you do something not true to self, stop and reevaluate. You owe at least that to your true self. If you don’t know what you want, then find out. That’s not selfish by any degree—it’s called healing. You have plenty of time to rediscover your passions in life or what travel plans you want to go on next. No longer can you live behind the wall of security. No more victim card.

It is a new year, literally. C.S. Lewis leads us into the new year: “there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” 

...brief trail off

Summer of 2012 I became more concerned with the people who attend church rather than the people who do not. Why you ask? There seems to be too many screw-tape letters that “religious” people have come to believe. Attending church regularly does not save you, nor make you righteous. Church was initiated back in the day for community, to support one another.  Is that the case in today’s churches? I would say no. In fact, every church is against each other and it has come to sitting in the same spot at the same time, every Sunday. You may be thinking about what happened this past week or even planning for the following week, month, or year. You browse the crowd, seeing familiar faces and then notice that someone has not been showing up recently or missed a couple bible studies. Insert gossip and assumptions.

I started my faith walk first year in college in good ol’ Iowa. I joined a campus ministry, served in inner cities and volunteered at various events. I have always been offended when people used the word “religious” to describe my spiritual situation, never understood why until these past few months. In my heart, I have always asked God to give me a heart of a Gentile. Yes, you read that right. I want a pariah heart, to be an outcast of religious people, and avoiding the categorization of having a religion. Why can I not just be a servant of Jesus with no denomination?

As my continuation of faith deepens, my heart has been exposed to a sad realization: church has become a “need” rather than a “want.” There is a HUGE difference. When people need to do something, it allows them to be passionless, un-tuned, and safe. I am sure going to church every Sunday gives other people the assumption that God and you are perfect. Where is your passion? Your Desire? I do not know about you, but cookie cutter prayers like, “God, thanks for today” or “Lord, bless everyone here,” saddens me. There is no passion but rather a routine and this is where our stagnant walk with Jesus becomes problematic.

God does not call us to put our desires on the table for sacrifice. We have desires for a reason and we need to persistently pursue them. If you have never read the story of the Persistent Widow, please do (no, this is not a ploy to passively push you towards God). It is a perfect parable about never giving up. Too many people in church today have fallen into a mundane, routine to righteousness life.  This is what you call bleak; a perfect scenario where evil can easily access you. Following God should be adventurous, life giving, stimulating, passionate, and moving. I would challenge you to take time to see what you really desire. This is not you being selfish. This is you looking internally to see what seeds God has planted in you.

It has always befuddled me how Jesus would be standing right in front of the Pharisees, the “religious” people who knew the scriptures inside and out, and yet they missed their Messiah standing there. They knew the 613 Written Laws of the Torah and it hardened their hearts!  This reminds me of various scriptures saying to avoid drunkenness, sexual immorality, impurity, homosexuality, and gluttony. If you see a Christian friend having a drink, your thought may be, “well they need to repent.” You see two gay people pray over dinner, and in the back of your mind, “no way that is possible.” If you see someone promiscuously dressed, your automatic response is, “that person is lost and needs Jesus.” Those are all thoughts with no action of love or genuine compassion. Too many people have a checklist on what a Christian is and this has marginalized us from each other. My list is simple: love God, love people. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, supposedly. Yet, all we do as “church people” is compare and condemn. This is a screw-tape letter, my friends. God does not seek the checklist, but He seeks our heart.

For the rest of the year, these next three months, I will not be reading my Bible daily, just during church and my daily scripture email from Air 1. No, I am not turning away from God and His word. Not sure what your notions on that may be, but I can tell you this: there is a deep longing in my heart to know Him after spending so much time in nature this summer, that I feel like I have missed the point on what being a follower of Christ really means. I am asking God to hold his promise to show me His love; to physically show me. I have read the stories, now I am seeking real life relevance. In other words, I am calling God out. I do not want to be a cookie cutter Christian who says the right things, dresses appropriately, leads Bible studies, and prays the correct prayers. That may seem unexpected, but are those not some of the requirements on the list of being an ideal religious person?

I have a mixed category of friends: Christians (Meths, Bapts, non-denoms, etc.), atheists, drunks, Mormons, gays, druggies, religious people, and sadly, those who have been deeply hurt by churches. The biggest dream I have is probably the most aggravating: where everyone serves together, for one another with one another. However, because we are in a broken world and there is always some church that has more truth than another church, and blah blah blah, we will always remain undeveloped in our walk of faith. We will always hurt each other, secretly comparing our doctrines or ideologies, instead of living the dream God has for us.  So, pray what is actually on your heart. If you are hurt, tell God. If you are angry, do not be afraid to let Him know exactly how you feel. Let him know how pissed off you are.  Feeling joyful? Then praise Him! If there is one thing that I have learned, God can take anything you throw at Him. What He cannot take is you suppressing yourself, giving up your innate desire He gave you, seeing you throw a beautiful life into the “religious box.” He called us live.

I offer two quotes to end this epistle:  1- Don’t define your world in black and white because there is so much hiding amongst the greys; 2- Look for strengths in people, not weakness, for good, not evil. Most of us find what we search for.

Much love,
Whit

... fire

Fire does not have a pleasant connotation meaning.  Smolder, burn, rage, fury, heat, destroyed or wrath can come to mind. But what about refine, re-growth, develop, and  purify?

This summer I am beyond blessed being able to work for the Forest Service. I get to hike, camp, snorkel and enjoy campfires. The biggest surprise that I have learned so far is observing the positive impact that fire has on the forest. I am not talking about the initial state after a burn when floods are cautioned for the next couple of years because of lack of vegetation; I am talking about longevity.  The forest recovers and adapts and even grows back stronger and denser. It is amazing how cones burn and release their seeds after the fire. There is growth in the ashes. The forest is refined by fire. Our hearts are refined by fire, too.

John 16:33, Jesus gives full warning that we will have trouble in this world but to take heart because he has overcome the world. How does this relate to fire?  Trials are our fires and we are refined when we choose to overcome the ashes of our past. The Refiner’s Fire poem is one of my favorite poems to read randomly because it gives me the picture of what purification means. I believe it is not by the lack of baggage you have but by how long you choose to remain in the fire and deal with all your “crap.” The longer you remain in the fire, the brighter you will burn (become more free) but the deeper God will ask you to go into your own heart. The best thing about being refined is that it is not forced but He will continually invite us and has eternal patience. Why? We are all His children and love isn’t forceful. This isn’t an easy step, however, for the reason that fear and anxiety will creep up and you will become your own worst enemy. It certainly is worth it. You are the only one to weigh the pros and cons. It is your choice to stay stagnant while something burns inside of you to break free.

 We may not see His plan for us but that doesn’t mean we need to question His motives (easier said than done!). Life is hard, gruesome and unforgiving; life is also beautiful and adventurous. My prayer is that you may be free from your  past bondage and chains that you have been hiding behind; know that you are good enough for God and He is always waiting with a watchful eye, continually fighting for you. God is your biggest fan.  

May you feel free and see that God does not see a weak human being but a jewel that was beautifully crafted in the Potter’s hands.
 

The Refiner’s Fire 

He sat by the fire of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Though we fain would have said Him, "Nay."
And He watched the dross that we had not seen,
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter, and yet more bright
And our eyes were so dim with tears,
As we saw the fire, not the Master's hand,
And questioned with anxious fear.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow,
As it mirrored a Form above
That bent o'er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of infinite love.

Can we think that it pleases His loving heart
To cause a moment of pain?
Ah, no, but He saw through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure!

-Author Unknown

... skydiving 101

The joy of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane at approx. 10,000 feet with a parachute-- AKA skydiving. 

This past summer 2011 I had the pure joy of experiencing first hand what plummeting to the ground at 120 mph felt like. It felt AMAZING!  Thoughts have ran through my head about trying to get my skydive certification. Yes, this would be a fun spring/summer hobby... slightly on the expensive side for the beginning but well worth it at the end. 

Propeller airplane...need I say more?

Skydiving has always been on my bucket list. So many people talk about doing things, or going on adventures, and use the phrase "one day."  Well, I am part of the club. In high school I said, "one day I will jump out of an airplane."  Mentally, the only thing that shifted from 17 years old to 25 years old was simply--  I will tell my family after I skydive. Plus, it helps skydiving in Iowa. 


The worst part is probably the waiting period. You arrive, sign your death liability form eliminating all angles to sue them in case your parachute did not open, watch a sweet 1990's video, be instructed on how to fall out of the airplane while your instructor smokes his cigar, then wait...

JB and I 

Yes, waiting on the sidewalk but getting a good tan out of the painfully anxious 50 minutes.  The day was PERFECT-- no cloud in sight. Being halfway tempted to text my family that I loved them before I did suit up, ended eating a handful of mini-snicker bars. Ahhhh chocolate, how I love your taste but loathe your calories.

Back on subject... I would watch people walk to the propeller airplane, then the airplane would disappear for about 5 minutes. Without any warning it would reappear going at a blistering 45 mph. Yes, this is no Boeing 747.  The ride up to the dropping point takes about 25 minutes to reach 9500 feet. Again, very slow gradual process with excessive turbulence. If you were to thesaurus-ize (proudly made that word up) hate, all those words is how I feel about turbulence. Great relationship, right?

Such a joyful ride up, minus the turbulence and having the side door wide open, plus the continual circling. Over all, I lost a good 2 lbs of sweat and practiced singing "All of Creation" by MercyMe. (Great band, should Google them!) I chose not to sing aloud because I didn't want the last moments of my life to be damaging the eardrums of four other people. These four people would be-- my jumper, my friend and her jumper, then the pilot. Did I mention the pilot even has a parachute pack on?!  Talk about feeling secure ... 


Five minute warning by the pilot-- means you sit on your instructors lap, he tightens his hip straps and shoulder straps to you, then you put on your goggles. I had the delight to be the first jumper and this meant that I was dangling outside of the airplane, connected to my instructor, while he looked for the "spot." At this time I could only think two words-- holy cow. Second phrase-- hurry up and find this freakin' spot! 

Landed!

I'm very thankful for my instructor saying the jump is on 3... turns out 3 means 2 to a certified skydiver. It was a fast 5 seconds twirling in the sky before we end up in the right skydiving position-- flying squirrel. For the next 35 seconds ish I learn that even the slightest twist of the wrist makes you turn counter clockwise. INCREDIBLE!  Instructor pulled the parachute cord and because of the adrenaline I could not feel my underwear being instantly shoved up my butt. So thanks, adrenaline. Then comes the relaxing part-- coolest instructor!-- he let me hold the guiding cords and we vortex-ed down to the ground by pulling one cord on my side;  also included pulling both cords down to my side that caused us to stay in flight. Personally prefer vortex. Landing was easy but should have worked more on my flexibility because raising your legs up to your chest sounds easy but when you can't feel your legs, that makes it a little more interesting/difficult.

Someone is feeling a little sick...

Once I fixed the worst wedgie I have ever had, it was time to grab the parachute and hurry up out of the field since the airplane was landing. If you can dodge an airplane, you can doge a ball!  Perhaps a new video needs to be created and called the 5 D's-- dodge, dip, duck, dive, and doge. 


Thanks to Shannon, Jessica and Matty for a great afternoon!!! Looking forward to more skydiving opportunities, plus more adventures!  May the force be with you.

In the words of White Goodman: nobody makes me bleed my own blood. Nobody.

Whit, Jess, Matty and Shannon-- July 2011

... Dove chocolate

As I start to clean my office (yes, I still have about 2.5 weeks left!) I find Dove chocolate to be my inspiration for the day week. Ahhh yes... chocolate.  Who would have thought?!  (maybe every women in the world?) As a fellow chocolate lover I type the inspirational quotes below. The wrappers were sporadically placed all over my office and very thankful that my work allowed me to place random pictures, quotes, and scriptures wherever I wanted... quotes in no specific order... enjoy!

-Break the mold.
-Be proud to just run the race, no matter the finish.
-Happiness is in the heart, not in the circumstances.
-Live with no regrets.
-Be fearless.
-Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.
-Create a happy place.