Sunday, November 20, 2011
My little sister Sydney now goes to Texas A&M, which, as you probably know, is known for being a very tradition rich school. So about a month ago, Stephanie and I went to College Station to see our first Aggie football game. I knew it was supposedly a really cool environment to see a football game in, I'd seen Kyle Field on TV plenty of times, with the Corp and all of its traditions, waving the white towels and all that... but nothing I had seen on TV or heard about from people who'd been there before could have done justice to what I got to experience in that stadium. To see like 90,000 people, arms around one another, singing in unison and swaying back and forth... I don't care who "your team" is, that is hands down one of the coolest things I've ever gotten to see in person. I promise it will make every hair on your body stand straight up. It's incredible. Stephanie and I just looked at each other and said, "Yeah... that was awesome."
So then I started thinking, why is this such a powerful thing? What is it about people, unified by a common love or passion, that can make the hair on the back of your neck stand up, give you goose bumps and even put tears in your eyes? What is it within us that wires us to feel that way?
The definition of worship is "a feeling or expression of reverence and adoration."
And if God put inside of us the desire to have that feeling of unity and power for one greater good — which we use on Saturdays to cheer on our team — what kind of power would it have if we really used it for what it's intended for?
I wonder what Sunday mornings would look like if we worshipped with the same passion and unity then as we do on Saturday afternoon. I wonder what our communities would look like if we lived a lifestyle of worship that was as unified and passionate as a stadium full of football fans. I wonder what our nation would look like.
I just can't imagine that God gave us those feelings just so we could use them for ourselves. Because believe me, I believe one hundred percent that the joy I get from college football is from the Lord... seriously! But how much more powerful would that joy be if we used it to glorify HIM as much as we do to glorify the earthly things we love... like our favorite team. Or whatever else it is that you're so passionate about.
Just something that's been on my heart lately...
Thursday, November 3, 2011
I feel like this year my roommates and I have found ourselves reminiscing a lot. I guess with the end of college on the horizon, there's this sort of sense of self-observation and reflection that's set in ... hoping for what's next, loving where we are and appreciating where we've been together over the last few years. We spent some time tonight talking and laughing about our sophomore year — it was an interesting one.
Your sophomore year is awesome in a lot of ways, because you're no longer a scared or homesick — and probably a little to "free" — freshman. You've probably found your friends by then ... the ones that are going to last. You've been away from home for long enough to feel independent and "grown up," but you're still young enough to be a bit of an idiot. You're settled in to your college life, and life is just pretty fantastic.
When I was a sophomore, me and two of my best friends spent about 70% of our time with a group of people who became somewhat like family to us at our friends Jake and Kevin's apartment. None of us quite knew who we were or even who we wanted to be yet, but we sure had a good time together. Tonight we were reminiscing on all those good times, and it inspired Kelsey and I to co-write an "Ode to Williamsburg" ... a painted picture of the movie of memories that plays in our heads when we think about that year.
When I think about Williamsburg, I see...
dance parties.interpretive dancing to "hide and seek".PBR.clouds of cigarette smoke.ten friends standing in a circle with arms around each other, singing "hey jude" but inserting each others' names instead.jake standing on furniture singing "piano man". a police man at the door because we were singing miley cyrus "party in the usa" too loud.james coming into the living room, guitar in hand, ready to sing a few johnny cash numbers.rooftop chats.lacey walking it out.bob dylan, rilo kiley, mgmt, avett brothers, cold war kids, and edward sharpe sing-alongs (among many others).heated political debates between kevin and randoms.seth and all of his peer pressure.colton's free spirit... and all of his ginger hair....remember that time kelsey broke the ice tray?. aleigha's epic dance moves.the later it got, the more mysterious james was in his corner.the little blonde from atlanta came along, and kevin fell in love. glad we found you, melanie.no matter how loud the music got, jake's personality was always louder.once in a while we were graced with jody's presence, and the party would start all over again.we found haley that year, when she started dating... well, you know. the day we ventured to little rock to see frightened rabbit ... and seth and i thought it would be a good idea to drive back before the sun came up.
It was a year of laughter, of not quite having ourselves or anything else figured out, and embracing our youth in the meantime. It's funny how we've all grown up and gone in different directions... whether that's grad school, a big kid job, dental school, being a nomad, or running away to the mountains, each of us has somehow found where we always wondered we'd be going, or are at least on our way. But for that one year, we really loved each other well. Our friendships have lasted, but they've evolved as we've all grown up. But when I think about that year, it's like time stopped for a bit, just so we could enjoy life and enjoy each other... I'm really thankful for that. We'll probably never (nor should ever) relive the times we had in that Williamsburg apartment, but I think in a way we were all somehow, in some small way, shaped by that place.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
In case you're struggling to figure out which of these is my mother and not my sister, she's the second from the left. I remember someone asking her once why she looks like she's our sister instead of our mother and she jokingly replied, "I started having them when I was 12."
... Fairly close. Mom was 18 when she got married and had my older sister, Stephanie. (The brunette between Mom and me) The reason I tell you that is because it highlights an important thing about my mom: she's spent more of her life being a mom than not. And she's only 42! Whew, Trish. Good job.
As soon as she grew up and left home, she started her own family. Being a Mom is all she's ever known, really. And she's really good at it. My mom is the epitome of "the mother hen." I wouldn't call her an overbearing mother — that term has a really negative connotation. She's just a good mom. Though I did think about jokingly writing about how my mom, like God, is omnipresent — thanks to facebook. Haha just kidding, mom. :)
My mom loves to have us all together at once, which seems to happen less and less as we get older. The reason I chose the picture above is because the moment this picture is capturing is a perfect example of how much my mom loves us, and loves having us all together. Mom always gives us matching pajamas on Christmas Eve. So this one year, I want to say this was two Christmases ago now, she gave us our pajamas and made us all put them on to take the ritual "matching PJ photo in front of the tree." As Dad's about to take a picture of us, Mom has disappeared into the back of the house... and then she comes out, cracking up laughing and fist pumping better than The Situation himself, because she's bought the same ones for herself this year. She had gone into her room to put on her matching pajamas... she was so proud, and it was awesome. We still laugh about it. I'm actually laughing writing about it right now.
The point is that my mom just loves having us home... it turns her into the joyful goofball that buys matching pajamas. And I love it! She hates that we are no longer all in the same place. For the last 3 years, my parents have been in Houston, where they still are now. My older sister has been in Knoxville and I've been in Jonesboro. So Stephanie and I haven't spent a whole lot of time at home since they moved back to Texas. That drives my mom crazy. She just doesn't like missing out on our lives, only seeing us once or twice a semester and at Christmas. And who can blame her? We're pretty cool. (Right, Steph?)
Stephanie has recently moved home though, so I'm now the lone faraway kid in the family. And my mom is constantly dropping hints (that are really more like atomic bombs) about all the pros of me moving back to Texas after I graduate in May. If she could have it her way, we'd all live in the same place again. Which sounds great... I keep telling her if God calls me home I'll be there in a heartbeat. It's safe to say she's praying often for that to happen. And to be honest, though I've been coined "the independent one that's always just passing through," I'd love to go home. I love to be home.
When I was sixteen, I ran away. That is a story for a different time, but I did run away... for an afternoon. I was probably gone 2 or 3 hours at the most. Most sixteen year olds probably get angry and leave in their car... I decided to go old fashioned, and run on foot. Over the river and through the woods, literally. All I took with me was my phone, which my parents were calling constantly, each time leaving a more emotional voicemail. I think my dad threatened to call the police a few times. I'll never forget what my mom looked like when I finally came home. She was laying in her bed, sobbing. I walked in the door and she wasn't angry, she just looked at me, and through her tears and sobs she told me to never do that to her again... and she hugged me, and told me she loved me. I felt awful. I felt selfish. But I felt loved... and even though I knew there was a serious grounding coming, I felt forgiven.
I think we do the same thing to God. We run away, and we come home expecting punishment. And sure, because God is a just God, we get what's due to us. But more than anything, what He sees as due to us is grace. We get grace when we come home... because I really believe that just like my mom, God just wants us home. And He hates that we don't get it... He hates that we only show up once or twice a semester, and on Christmas. He doesn't want to miss out on our lives.
I wish I could be home more often, because I know the joy and fullness my mom's heart feels when we're all under the same roof. But what being away has taught me is that just like my mom longs for me to come home and be with her, my God longs for me to be with Him. And the best part about a God that's omnipresent is that I have the option of being at home with him every single day.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Yesterday I had lunch with a friend in Nashville who reprimanded me for not blogging enough. So from now on, once a week, I'll be posting a light-hearted little something called "Thoughts for Eve." Sunday seems like an appropriate day for "St. Eve" ... AKA "Steve."
I spent the last week in Myrtle Beach on spring break, and took a detour through Knoxville to spend the night with my sister Friday night. Steph wasn't the only reason I went though... Drew Holcomb was playing at the Bijou in Knoxville that night. I can't pass up an opportunity to see the Holcombs. As mentioned in previous posts, it's just good for my heart to see Ellie Holcomb once in a while. In fact, I've seen her about once a month this semester, which has been awesome. Jonesboro in January, Memphis in February, Knoxville in March.
So this got me thinking... I feel a little bit like a groupie. What exactly defines a groupie? Because if it's simply attendance to shows in multiple cities on one single tour, I'm definitely guilty. When I saw the Holcombs with Marc Broussard in February, I'm pretty sure I stood next to a hand full of middle-aged Marc Broussard groupies. Oh gosh I hope I'm not "that girl." But then again THAT girl would be defined as "the one who's following (insert musician here) until she finally gets in his pants." Rest assured I am most certainly not trying to get into any of the neighbors' pants.
Now I say all this completely jokingly — Ellie's a good friend, and I cherish every time our paths cross and I get to go see her. But I sometimes wonder what other people think. You might be asking yourself, "What other people that know you are seeing you at all of these different shows in all these different cities?" Until last night, I would have said no one.
Well, Drew's brother is on the road with them right now running merch. I met him briefly in Memphis in February, not thinking he would recognize me again. Well when I walked up to the merch booth Friday night he says to me, "Hey I met you in Memphis didn't I?" While I was both impressed and flattered that he remembered me and enjoyed a quick small talk conversation, I'm thinking to myself, "this guy is probably so confused as to why he's now seeing me a month later clear across the state of Tennessee." But I couldn't be like, "oh you must be wondering why I'm here also, well funny story I was just in South Carolina and my sister lives here and so here I am..." Because either (a) I sound like an idiot and maybe he's not thinking anything of the fact that I'm here, or (b) news flash, Sara, he probably doesn't care about your spring break or your sister ... and now you sound like an ass.
It gets better. Yesterday I was driving through Nashville on my way back to Jonesboro, and stopped to meet a friend for lunch. I kid you not, I'm driving down 21st Ave trying to find a place to park, and there he is standing on the sidewalk outside of the place I was about to eat. (They were in Nashville for a show the very next night.) So now I'm thinking, "oh my gosh, I feel like I'm following this guy. Please, please, please don't see me... this is almost embarrassing." To make it even better, I'm wearing my Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors tank top I bought from him the night before. Now I definitely look like a groupie/creepy fan.
Well to save myself an awkward conversation and slightly embarrassing moment, he was gone by the time I parked and walked back up the street. And so I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decide if I've reached groupie status or if I've safely escaped it due to actual friendship...
Groupie or not, I'll be seeing my new friend Sam again in Little Rock in just a little over a week. Hope he doesn't judge me. :)