Sisters and Aunts

My little sister Grace is quite possibly the most intelligent 5 year old I've ever met. She is also quite stubborn, so when she makes up her mind about anything, it's pretty much made up for good. One day while Mom was getting ready she was watching one of her "shows" on TV, which is a normal occurrence. The problem was that on this day, Mom was taking a little longer and Grace's show ended and "A Baby Story" came on. Long story short, Grace was scarred, maybe even for life. Since then, she has sworn that she "hates babies" and never wants to get married because she never wants to have a baby. (She thought the baby came out of the lady's leg on TV and assumed that the lady would then have to get stitches.) This was before last Christmas and she has been singing the same tune ever since.

You can imagine how she took the news that I was going to have a baby. The following is an actual conversation between she and Sarah, my other sister. I swear I'm not even embellishing.

Sarah: So, have you heard Brian and Kel's news?
Grace: Yes, and I'm not happy about it. You know how I feel about those...
Sarah: But, Grace, you'll like this one.
Grace: That's what they keep telling me...

Last week she confessed to Mom that she thinks she'll probably become a mom one day. Which was followed by the admission that then she'll probably have to get married one day.

We have a sneaking suspicion that it all has to do with her getting to wear a certain white "bride" dress. But at least we're making progress.

Tiny Dancer

If I didn't already believe that God is sovereign and working all things together, I probably would be starting to about now.

Last Thursday, I was finally able to speak to the nurse who schedules appointments for my OB and she was super nice and understanding about my situation. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised. I still had to go to the little class on Monday to fill out paperwork and have about half of my blood content drawn for various tests, but I was then able to go back on Tuesday (yesterday) for the first appointment.

As it turns out, I am not as far along in this pregnancy as I had previously thought. I am currently at 10 weeks, which makes a lot of sense with the timeline of when I got a positive pregnancy test and when I started to feel sick and tired. The doctor assured me that this is all fine and normal.

The best part is, I got to see the baby! It was so exciting that I laughed and cried at the same time. S/he was moving all around - dancing, if you will. The doctor said that s/he looked perfectly normal and healthy for a 10 week old. That made it feel so real.

Looking forward to March 11, 2009...

Times, they are a changin'

I have tried to like the green template, but I just don't. So, I changed it. Don't worry, you're still in the right place for Reasons Why.

I hope that this one works out better for us.

I feel like an ant

Do you want to hear the most ridiculous story in the world? Sure you do. Well, even if you don't, I feel like "blogging it out," so here goes...

Where do I start? Hmmmmm. Based on certain calculations of events, I think that I am 12 weeks pregnant as of today. Exciting, right? Yes, I am very excited, that is the good news. The bad news is that I have not seen a doctor yet, nor do I have an appointment to do so. Gasp! I must be a horrible mother-to-be. Well, don't judge me so fast, here are my reasons why:

1- I did not have a positive pregnancy test until I was about 7 weeks pregnant. From everything I've read on the internet, this can happen and is totally normal. Thus, delay #1.

2- The positive showed up just three days before I left on an 11 day trip to Moldova. (Btw, I really need to blog about that. It's coming.)

3- Before I left for Moldova, I made an appointment with my primary care physician to see him about getting a referral to an OB. He had no openings until four days after I got home from Moldova. Delay #2. Glad I had a little trip to the other side of the planet planned for that time.

4- After said visit with the primary care doctor (PA actually, but I love him!), the insurance company needed at least 72 hours in which to process the referral. This made me a little impatient, but I kept telling myself that we don't pay a thing for this insurance...Delay #3.

5- Called the insurance company on Tuesday morning to get the name of the OB to which I had been assigned (yes, assigned, don't get me started on that) so that I could finally call and make the magical appointment.

6- I immediately hung up the phone and dialed the number for the OB's office. "Oh sorry, we need 48 hours to process referrals before you can make an appointment," was the unenthusiastic reply of the disinterested person on the other line. Are you kidding me? Does everyone and their brother have to "process" my referral. What does that even mean? Delays #4-6.

7- Fast forward to this morning. I get a call from the office that says I can call one of two of their satellite offices to make an appointment. The referral is finally processed. Hallelujah.

8- I nervously dialed the number for the office closest to my home. Could this finally be it? Would I actually get to schedule an appointment with a real live OB? Not so fast. In so many words I was told that I must attend a class with a nurse and a nutritionist before I can schedule my first appointment. What? What? I uncharacteristically blew a gasket. I told the person on the other end of the phone that this was the worst, most inefficient process I had ever heard of, let alone been a part of. She said that she was sorry, "that's just the way it is." I told her that I am pretty sure I am 12 weeks pregnant and had been waiting for over three weeks to even be able to make this call. Then I decided to apologize. We both settled down and she gave me the direct line of the nurse who does the classes, telling me that maybe I could talk to her personally and make an appointment before I go to the class. This nurse is out of the office until Monday, so please pray with me that it works out that way. I am going to call her at 8 am on Monday, make no mistake about it.

I never imagined that it would take a month to merely make a doctor's appointment.

So, that's the story of why I'm 12 weeks and still don't have a doctor's appointment. It's also the story of why I'm not so sure that socialization of health care would be the best approach in America. And the story of why I feel tiny and insignificant today, much like an ant.

Mid-Afternoon Hamburger

Well, actually, it's only half of a hamburger. And, in the spirit of complete honesty, it's a cheeseburger. From Outback. The arresting thing about this reheated half-cheeseburger is that I'm eating it at 4:30 in the afternoon. As a snack. Me. If you know anything about me, the previous post about carrot soup is so much closer than a cheeseburger to my usual culinary choices. I usually eat salads for lunch and, although I'm not a vegetarian, I try to go several days between meals in which I eat meat. So what on God's green earth am I doing eating this as a snack?

To make a short story a little longer, we got a little surprise on Saturday morning, July 5th-we found out that I'm pregnant! B and I are just delighted by the fact and almost a month later, it is finally sinking in that our little family is growing. The only not-fabulous side effect thus far is that I just cannot seem to keep enough food in my body. This child is not even born yet and it is already eating me out of house and home. I think maybe it's so strange to me because before now, I have eaten, well, nibbled really, at food like a bird. So, the portions that I feel like eating now are like Thanksgiving dinner for every meal to me. I give in and eat like this because I have discovered over the last week that if I don't, I end up severely nauseated. Which is pretty much the worst feeling in the world.

I have decided to look at this like a season of my life and not get stressed about eating too much right now. Life will not be like this forever. One day I will again snack on apples as I play with my little boy or girl. But right now, this cheeseburger sure hits the spot!

Carrot Soup

First of all, friends, don't knock it 'til you've tried it. If you're like i was, the thought of carrot soup is not the most appetizing. But my dear friend made some for me one night and it has changed my life and lunches. You see, I love to eat hot things for lunch, which most of the time ends up being soup. Following is the recipe for the most wonderful, beta-carotene-filled soup I've ever tasted. Enjoy!

Meg's Carrot-Ginger Soup
2 lbs. carrots, washed and peeled
1 small lime-sized chunk of fresh ginger, peeled
~2 T butter
4 C vegetable broth
Half and half

After peeling the carrots, cut them into chunks. Mince the ginger. Heat butter in large sauce pan over medium heat until bubbly, then add ginger, stirring until fragrant. About 5 minutes. Then add the broth and carrots. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and cover. Simmer for 30 minutes or until carrots are soft. Transfer to a food processor and pulse until smooth. (You may have to do two batches.) Blend batches in a bowl with a bit of half and half using a whisk. Serve hot or cold. I like to garnish with cucumbers.

Hands and Feet

People who speak truth to you are perhaps the most valuable people to have around. Whether friend, family, or both, you treasure their opinions like gold. That said, it is always a sign to me of these golden people in my life when I want to rip them limb from limb sometimes before hearing what they have to say. Because it's the truth and I want to wallow. For me "ripping them limb from limb" most often looks like me not calling them for ages and not returning their calls when they initiate. It's not that I don't love them or want to talk about their lives, I just don't always want their insight on mine, because, well, I'm often far too content wallowing. And then, one day, stuck in the back of the blackest corner I've been in for a while, there are only certain people who can truly bring me out. These are the truth-sayers, the golden people in my life.

These are friends that always believe even when I can't anymore. Friends that cling to hope with one hand and me with the other while I dangle over a pit of despair. These are the people whose lives I want to exemplify because of their faith in the face of this adversity-fraught life. Sometimes they're only there once and that's enough. Some I have for life; like Brian, Like a Fine Wine, and Citystreams, to name a few.

Thank you for being the hands and feet of Jesus to me.

That's Me in the Corner

My lovely sister is in town and we went to see REM last night at the beautiful Merriweather Post Pavilion. It was so much fun! The venue reminded us of Chastain in Atlanta, it was a very good show in a very fun place!

Lovely, Dark, & Deep

If you know anything about me, you probably know I like to run. (If you don't know me, you know now! Ha!) And since I've been giving the new town and even state such a hard time lately on this blog and in general conversation, I would like to write about something I've found here that I am enjoying a lot. On base (which I keep calling campus in conversation, I guess being so used to living in a college town and all) there are incredible running trails. I am talking about miles and miles of well kept and well marked trails. And they are in the deliciously beautiful woodland that makes me feel like I'm in the mountains. Every time I run there I see deer. It feels like real cross country running and it makes me feel alive like nothing else.

So, yesterday, I was running a combination of trails that I had done once before, and getting kind of cocky about my ability to remember which way to go when I unknowingly took a wrong turn. I figured out my mistake when I passed a small building in the woods that I didn't remember. (I take in landmarks very quickly when I run in new places.) The good news was I was only about a half mile in the wrong direction. The bad news was that all of the sudden the sky turned black, it thundered and the heavens poured forth in abundance. In short, I got very wet. At first I was a little frightened about being in the woods alone during a storm, but then I decided to live it up. It was so exhilarating to run straight through the puddles because I was already soaked to the bone. The trails turned into natural little streams since it's so hilly here and I made no effort to avoid them. I finished just as the storm did and I was so thankful that I happened to be running in the woods during the downpour.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
-Robert Frost

Are you my home?

There's something to be said for looking down a road and knowing where it leads to. Put another way, it's nice to know how to get to places and it's nice to think you'll probably know someone when you get there. Personally, I am also a big fan of short cuts, or at least ways of getting places that don't include two of the busiest stretches of road in this country (I-95 and Highway 1). That said, today I am in my hometown, namely, Athens, GA and I'm in a sort-of pre-teenage angst about this subject, so bear with. It's the place I put down on forms when they ask for a birthplace and also the place I go on and on about when someone asks me where I'm from. "Have you ever heard of the University of Georgia? It's in a town called Athens and that's where I'm from." That's my usual shtick when I get the "where are you from?" question to avoid being mistaken as being from Atlanta. (Nothing against Atlanta, it just seems that everyone who hears we're from Georgia automatically assumes we're from Atlanta.)

The only problem with being in the place I love more than all the rest today is that it doesn't feel like home. GASP!! And it's because Brian isn't here today. My heart and mind are in two places that are totally and completely geographically incompatible. And tomorrow, when I disembark from the plane that will fly me to Virginia and am back with Brian, I will probably feel as confused as I am now, because God help me if Stafford, Virginia ever feels like home. Something is always missing and I guess it's a little of the feeling that Hal talks about when he calls the Christian life living in the "already and the not yet." And maybe we're not supposed to feel at home in this life, but be thankful for the time we have with who we have it with while we have it. (If that makes sense.) When I step back and look at it, I am so very blessed whether here or there and maybe home is a big meshing of the two.

A Little Love

You could say that we were destined to meet. Between cross country meets and camps that we both attended in high school and a boat load of mutual friends, it's amazing that it took as long as it did. But on April 6, 2002, Brian and I were finally introduced to one another by one of said mutual friends at the wedding of other mutual friends. A month after that, we met again at my parents' house because he was mentoring my little brother through a youth group. (Andy always reminds me that B "dated" him first. Haha.) About four months later, we discovered that I actually lived in the exact room in the exact apartment that he had just moved out of when he picked me up for our first date. Then, in October of 2002, he took me rock climbing for the first time. I was terrified at first, but we have been inseparable since that day.

The Crib

The room just off of the kitchen.
Our room.

The guest room. It came this color and I just went with it.

Rumor's new "spot."

The foyer.

The living room. Complete with new Ikea chair. Love it!

The office.

Another view of the room off of the kitchen. This is my favorite room I think.

The kitchen.

To be quite honest, this post is mostly for my mom. She wants to see pictures of the new place all set up, so here are a few. For those of you who are not her, enjoy also. Love!

Side note

Just so you know, I'm new to the military life. So when I was hearing explosions from some sort of training taking place on the other side of the interstate all day, I thought it was a new speed bump people kept hitting in the road in front of our house. Well, that certainly makes things more interesting.

Now I know why Michael Bluth could do nothing with the orange grove that he bought from Uncle Oscar. Ha.

A Bittersweet Symphony

It’s funny how being in one place makes you understand how you belong to another. Now I’m not talking just about belonging to a place because you are comfortable there, have friends there, and know your way around, I’m talking about having roots somewhere. People my age especially neglect the importance of roots and history. We want to buck tradition and strike it out on our own. In a very bittersweet and timely sort of way, I had my roots and history thrust at me on the very day that we moved.

You see, my Dad’s Dad passed away on Saturday, April 26th, the very same day we unloaded all of our belongings into the three-story townhouse that we now reside in. He lost an epicly heroic battle with cancer and Parkinson’s, but is now in his heavenly dwelling where there is no chemo, no medicine, and most importantly for him (I bet), no walkers or wheelchairs. (Side note, I always cry when I think about healing after someone dies of a terrible illness. It’s what we all long for, isn’t it? To be what we were created to be in the first place. I know I do.) So, long story kind of short, we quickly unpacked a few things so that we could pack again and hop into the car for the 10 hour drive to Dudley, GA, where my parents grew up and where this particular grandparent, Papa, spent the majority of his life. I was able to spend most of the week there with my grandmother, aunt, and the rest of ‘em (as they say) listening to stories about how many people Papa helped without ever expecting anything in return and eating the best food that can be found on this planet. What I lost on April 26th was monumental, but what I gained in the aftermath of that day could be spoken of on the same terms. I had always had an appreciation for Dudley (Population 498) as the place where both of my parents grew up and where both sets of my grandparents lived during my childhood, but now I love it. It’s where my grandma, Meme (Papa’s wife of 52 year – there will be a post on her soon), still lives. It’s a place where pecans can be picked up by the bucket, the peas are to die for, a place where people bring so much food when a person passes away, someone actually brings an extra refrigerator, and a place where you can still charge things to an account that is still maintained and calculated by hand at the local store (my grandfather’s). It’s a place where my roots are.

I was also going to talk about Athens here, but it seems that this post is getting long already. Suffice it to say that right now I feel like a plant that was taken out of the soil I sprung from a seed in and put into a big ugly pot on someone’s front porch that is already littered with other plants in other ugly pots. This is not where I belong. I was just reminded, though, that there is a time to plant and a time to uproot.

Coldplay comes to mind here, “And it’s a bittersweet symphony, that’s life…”

Rumor's Paradise

Rumor's paradise, his own personal Heaven on Earth. That's what our apartment currently is. Rumor is our curious-to-a-fault orange and white tabby who loves open windows and cardboard boxes. So, right now all of his dreams are coming true as every room becomes filled with boxes that he climbs in and out of, which caused several empty box avalanches yesterday. Also, we have the windows open, so when not trying to be packed alongside our drawer-trinkets, he is happily sitting in the window dreaming of eating the many leaves he sees flying by.

Meanwhile, Brian and I are not having so much fun. We've lived here for FOUR years. That's four years of stuff stuffed into drawers and back corners of closets. I did find my autographed Derek Webb, "She Must and Shall Go Free" CD cover, so it's not all bad. We decided that only CD covers that currently hold CDs or are signed don't get trashed. I guess I'll probably kick myself in twenty years when CD covers are collector's items. Oh well.

Friday is the big move day. I am going to start updating here more frequently to keep you all in the know about our nine-hour-away move and beginning life as a Marine family.

Bluetooths

People talking on bluetooths look crazy. Like they're talking to invisible people.

I'm just sayin'.

Prone to Wander

Lord I feel it! I was reminded (again) today about the amazingness of grace thanks to my friend Annie. Right now I am slowly but fiercely beginning to realize enormous amounts of fear. Next month we are moving ten hours away from my home and all of the people and places that I know. To add to that, my husband is a Marine, and so even though he was never mine to begin with, I am about to get a rude awakening to how real that is. He does not have orders or plans for deployment yet, but he imagines that it is inevitable in the future given his chosen profession. It is a noble and courageous thing to do to serve your country, but it is nerve-wracking for those at home to think about. Sometimes people say, "Well at least you knew what you were getting into when you got married." Oh no, I did not. My love signed up to be a Devil Dog about six months into our marriage, with my support, of course.

Which brings me to my fear, because life never turns out the way I plan, and I have all of these plans a'brewin' in my head. I too am asking God for big things right now and my old way of belief keeps creeping up and telling me that I have not been good enough to deserve the things I am asking for. But that is what is so amazing about grace-I have never and will never be good enough to deserve anything. Every good and perfect thing in my lift is a gift, IS grace. God's mercy is so deep that He listens to even me and so I can have hope that there is good to come. There is Christ to come and in Him is all good, all abundance. All that I don't deserve but have.

A Maddening Crowd

Heaven help us. There are about 3,000 high school students coming to my little place-of-business today. They hope to be "business leaders" in the future, but now they are hormonal almost-adults in oddly-matched suits either from their grandmother's closet, the thrift store, or the junior department at Macy's.

At least I have on a fun shirt today thanks to a rummage in my sister's closet last night.

Different Colored Doorways

Well, that was fast. No sooner than I posted about applying for the internship with IJM did I get a pre-fab rejection email. So, that one's off the list. I was sad for about two minutes before I got over it because it didn't feel like God closing a door, it felt like Him leading me down a new hallway that I had never seen before. I am in contact with another organization that does similar work and is based in Washington, DC, and will hopefully be able to volunteer with them while we live there. I really just want to get into that arena, if you will, to meet people who work on the front lines literally freeing people from modern day slavery so that I can do the same. This (and music) is what I am most passionate about. Dr. Kevin Bales, in his book Disposable People, says, "Slavery is obscene." I've never heard it put more eloquently, truthfully, or bluntly. There are mountains of problems in the world, but this one supersedes them all for me. The obscenity must end.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." -Edmund Burke

Feeding time

Do you remember when you were little and your mom took you to the park to feed the ducks? You threw the bread crumbs out and they all swiftly, almost viciously grappled to get the biggest and most pieces. Well, adult conference attendees look very similar when descending on the afternoon break tables. It's the only situation other than the day after Thanksgiving when I think that little old ladies might hurt one another for something small.

Just a thought. And because I am singing this song in my head, "Why should we be fated to do nothing but brood on food, glorious food?" (That one's for Scott.)

Before the Glory, After the Rust

"Reasons Why," the title of my blog, is so appropriate for me on so many levels. It's the title of one of my favorite songs, which is one of my favorite songs because of the words. Namely, "others have excuses, I have my 'reasons why,'" resonates with me because I have this overwhelming fear of not doing the right thing and I feel like I'm always on the offensive, justifying to myself and others why I do what I do. Does this make sense? Next month I'll turn 26, I have a master's degree, and I'm a glorified receptionist. Hence, the constant offensive justification. All through school I was an excellent student, you know, the kind that was going to really do something with themselves. I studied hard and I really cared about what I was learning. And now I'm a receptionist. And really the person I think that I have disappointed the most is myself. My friends are teachers, nurses, doctors, salespeople, planners, real estate agents, and lawyers. And I'm a receptionist.

I'm not going to offer my extensive excuse for this here, although rest assured it mostly involves fear. I'm just going to say that I'm not going to do this forever. In a little over a month we're moving to a new state and I get a new start. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do or what I want to do, but I am determined to do something I like. I have applied for an internship this summer with International Justice Mission, an organization I've mentioned a couple of times, but I haven't heard anything yet. They investigate and intervene in cases of human rights abuse all over the world. A lot of their work happens in southeast Asia with victims of sex trafficking. Pray about that for me, this is an opportunity I've wanted for a while. Also on the list is learning how to play the guitar. The only thing I've wanted to do over the whole span of my life is be a musician, and at a quarter of a century, it's high time I began to do this.

All of this is in effort to be a little more open with you, my readers and friends, so that you know where everything else I write comes from and what my experiences are colored by. I believe in a Sovereign who has put me on this path for His purposes, even though I don't understand. There is just a deep longing in me that's never been there before to do something more than work for a pay check.

The title of this post comes from a Sandra McCracken song called Eve. I think that one line explains where I live-"Before the Glory, after the rust." After the fall. I know there's glory to come, I just live in the rusted world now and it's hard. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about

Christian wins?

As Gob Bluth would say [forcefully], "Come On!" Bravo, Project Runway, could we see something new please? Because I'm pretty sure that last season the mean, goth guy who hated everyone else won too. Everyone else got in trouble all season for showing "the same thing" every week, but did we see anything from Christian all season that wasn't high-necked, ruffled, black, and completely over-the-top? Did the judges even watch Rami's collection on the runway? The man is talented and I'm pretty sure never told a model, "Be really skinny and don't eat."

If Christian is fashion, I don't want it.

Filled with joy

There were two very exciting surprises waiting for me once I left home today. One, it was snowing. This may not be exciting to some, but I live in an area that rarely [read: never] sees any snow. And granted, it was just falling, not sticking, but it was exciting all the same. There are 18 foot windows in the lobby where I work and everyone was coming out to look at the snow fall. It's one of the few things that can universally put wonder into the eyes of hardened, overworked adults and that is a beautiful thing to see.

The second thing was an email in my inbox from my friend Callie. Yes, the same friend I wrote about two weeks ago who had been in the terrible car accident. She was released from the hospital last night and is at home. She has a long road of therapy and rehabilitation ahead, but is doing so much better than anyone could have imagined two weeks ago. Please continue to join me in praying for her continued recovery.

"When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter,and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, 'The Lord has done great things for them.' The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad."
-Psalm 126: 1-3

Tag, I'm It

A while back my friend tagged me in a "write random things about yourself" blog and so, as I find little else to do between entirely random phone calls and questions today, here are 10 random things about me that probably do not know. (Beware: they are trully the first 10 things that popped into my head.)
1) I think that I would be a good spy. I'm small, young, and innocent looking. No one would ever suspect me. (Plus, I have always wanted to escape out of the top of an elevator.)

2) I'm OCD about trash. I cannot eat something and leave the wrapper laying beside me until I get up for another reason. I must immediately throw it away or its all that I can think of. (Monica, anyone?)

3) If I ever have a light-blub in my hand, all I am thinking about is how I want to smash it on a counter.

4) My first post-college job was as a loan processor. A bit of me died inside that year.

5) Celebrity gossip is my guilty pleasure. Gasp!

6) When my brother (who is now 20) was born, I wanted him to be a girl so bad so that we could name him Anna Carrie.

7) I had perfect attendence in middle school (6th-8th grade). There were 8 of us in my school that did the same. A man found out about this and gave us all a new $100 bill.

8) I attribute the above perfect attendence to the fact that I had scarlet fever in first grade. I have rarely been sick since.

9)My husband and I met at a wedding. I didn't give him a second thought at the time because I thought he was way too old for me. We are, in fact, the same age.

10) My mom has always called me the princess and the pea because I am also OCD about sleeping. It has to be dark, quiet, and I must be comfortable. Anything, however small, can keep me up for hours. I've often taken the batteries out of clocks that tick at other people's houses. (Wow, TMI Kelli.) Not to worry, I always replace them and set the time right in the morning.

So, I warned you, it's a random, random list. I'm not going to tag anyone, but I will challenge you to write a list on your blog and post a link in the comments section.

The cat's out of the bag

In January I wrote a post that sort of alluded to my question-mark-of-a-furture, but I am now at liberty to shed more light on the issue. Don't get too excited, it's not a big secret, I just did not want to blog about anything that people I work with do not know. So, here goes.

Last week I resigned my job because we are moving to Quantico, VA in April. As most of you know, Brian is a Marine and this will begin military life for us. He has to go through six months of training in Quantico, followed by two more months of school in Rhode Island. After this, if everything goes as planned, we will have a permanent duty station (which I hope involves the Pacific Ocean) by the beginning of 2009. Which also means that we get to move THREE times this year. And not from apartment to house to another apartment like in college. What I'm talking about is three moves that involve at least three different states. In one year. With two cats and a bird.

People ask me all of the time if I am excited about this. My standard line is, "I might as well be." In truth, I am excited, but I am also scared to death. For all intents and purposes, the city that I now live in is the only place I've ever lived. It's where my family lives, where I got married, everything. So leaving is more difficult than going, if you know what I mean. It's not the new that scares me, it's leaving the old, not knowing what the future holds.

All over it seems like I am being told to have courage, though. My friend Annie's blog, the book that I'm now reading, and lots of other things keep encouraging me to take heart. I am often reminded of a song that I'm sure I've quoted somewhere on this blog before. My favorite part goes, "And you know the plans that you have for me. And you can't plan the end and not plan the means..." (Love some old school Caedmon's Call.)

Please pray for Callie

My friend Callie was in a horrible car accident last night and is in ICU at a hospital in Atlanta. She has a broken hip and blood around her brain. The next two days are a crucial time for her. Please pray for Callie, she is a sweet person and a good friend. Callie and I got to know each other through the youth group that Brian and I worked with last year at our church. She's currently in 10th grade and just got her driver's license last month. She babysits my little brother and sister and is the most amazing baker that I know. Her chewy bars will be famous one day.

So, again, I beg that you pray for her for healing. Pray that the Lord would also comfort her family during this time.

"Dear Refuge of my weary soul, on Thee when sorrows rise,
On Thee when waves of trouble roll, my fainting hope relies,
To Thee I tell each rising grief, for Thou Alone canst heal,
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief for every pain I feel..."

Confessions of the selfish

Today, like yesterday, there is nothing going on here except for "escalator maintenance." That means that two guys are in little hatches at the top and bottom of the escalator directly across the lobby from my desk banging away on things. The amusing part of the situation is that they occasionally yell at one another. I don't think that they're friends outside of work. Judging by the events of the last couple of days, they're not really even friends at work. But, oh well.



In other news, I feel like I should come clean with you guys. I was in a terrible mood yesterday when I got off work because I was just brooding. Do you ever do that? Find yourself in the stinky pot and just sit there, marinating in your troubles? Well, if you don't, take it from me, it's terrible, but it's like quicksand because you cannot get out easily once trapped. Most of the time this happens in my mind and I let every little event pile up on top of the last until I feel that I am quite possibly the most horribly dejected human being that has ever borne the misfortune of walking this earth. Vague enough for you? Yesterday my nocuous mulling was the result of jealousy. I sometimes nauseate myself with this. Without going into details, I was feeling insanely overrun by several people in my life who really could have no idea what they were doing to me. What's worse is that I'm sure they in no way were trying to do anything to me whatsoever. So I brooded and I was short with Brian when he came home from work, knowing all the time that the longer I held it in, the more it was going to stink when it came out.



I surprised myself, though, and decided to tell Brian every stupid thing that I was upset over, instead of taking anything out on him. (None of the ill will was bent on him, I might mention.) The thing I was so worried about was that he would look down on me for having such childish jealousy, but he did not. He affirmed me and spoke truth to me and although I am not cured, I felt a million times better after just admitting how I felt. The more I live, the more I believe that honesty is always the best policy, period. And I'm so glad that I have already been made right with God through the work of Christ, because I can't do it on my own.

With so much deception, it's hard not to wander away

Sometime in 2003 (I don't remember the month), I read an article in National Geographic Magazine that literally changed my life. It was about 21st Century Slaves. Yes, slaves. Like the kind that you thought were done with after the Civil War, when in all actuality, there are more people in the world today who live in slavery or slavery-like conditions than in the 1700 and 1800s. Astounded? That's okay, I certainly was the first time I heard this. But maybe astounded is not so much the word as dumbfounded or indignant. How on earth can we think that we live in any kind of modern world or society when PEOPLE are still bought and sold like pencils, cars, or any other inanimate commodity? And why was I 21 years old the first time I heard about it? Why are we not fighting wars to erradicate slavery? Why is it not the top news story everyday everywhere in the world?

I couldn't get this reality out of my head, so when I went to grad school in 2005, I decided to dedicate what I could of my studies to this subject. For those who may not know, I got my master's degree in Public Health. Instead of a writing a thesis to culminate my degree, I did a semester long internship at a domestic violence shelter and a rape crisis center in northeast Georgia. I also wrote a capstone paper about the myriad of health effects on victims of sex trafficking. This is because most of the modern day slaves are women and children who are trafficked and held for the purpose of sexual exploitation. In layman's terms this equals forced prostitution. Long story short, these people are most of the time destitute, they are tricked into moving to a different country for work, and then forced into sexual exploitation and held against their wills. Often they are broken and brainwashed so that they are bitter and untrusting of those who want to help. Even if released from this hellish "profession," they are scorned by their family and friends because of what they haved been forced to do and left with serious health conditions that inhibit their ability to carry daily living, much less their ability to work.

It would be easy to feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem and paralyzed by hopelessness. But we are not left without hope. There are many organizations that work with these victims, such as Free the Slaves, and International Justice Mission. My personal goal is to raise as much awareness as possible about this issue and try to educate people because knowledge is half the battle. Go to the websites above and learn more, or ask me because there is still a lot I haven't written here because of space.

"He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." -Micah 6:8

One, but we're not the same

It's hard to write this post today because I'm tired and feeling cynical. But it's been a while and I have a song in my head (as usual) and it relates to today. There is a Bridal show at the "office" today and it has me reflecting on marriage and our society. It seems to me that getting married these days has more to do with "the big day" than with the fact that two people are becoming one. You have to pay to get into this particular show so that people can sell you things like photography, cakes, and ribbons.

When you are planning to get married, people not only want to sell you things, they love to give advice. Some bad, and some good, like, "Don't argue after 9 PM." (Not that we abide by this one, but it sure makes a lot of sense now...moving on.) The one thing that no one told us is that you are still the same exact people at the reception that you were before you ever walked down the aisle. Same sins, same insecurities, same habits. You see, wedding vendors bank on selling "the big day," the fairytale wedding and so forth, with total disregard to the fact that there's a whole lifetime of marriage to follow. No matter how beautifully arranged the flowers are and how many settings of fine china you get, hard times are going to come and there needs to be more to stand on than a diamond you had to take out a loan to get. I'm not saying that everyone is like this, I have just seen a lot of it lately and it's frightening. My husband and I loved each other as much as possible on July 10, 2004, but we had no idea what was in store and we have had it pretty easy. My mom has always said that love is a choice. One day you wake up and the warm fuzzies are gone and you have to remind yourself to choose to love the person beside you, and, what is more, I have to pray to God that He will give me a heart for my husband day in and day out. It is only by His grace we survive, it is only by His grace that we are happy. It is only by His grace that we stand.

I have been given the privilege of walking beside my husband through life. We are truly opposites in a lot of ways, but we balance each other out. He's logical, I'm a romantic. He's rational, I'm, well, the opposite of that. I love the U2 song from which this post borrows it's title. It says, "We're one but we're not the same, we get to carry each other, carry each other..." I think that's what marriage is about. Not stuff.

I'm Nowhere and You're Everything

"It's way past two and you want me there, but he needs me here so you have to share. I'm cryin' 'cause I'm in love with you, you're cryin' because you have no clue." Don't read too much into this people. These are lines from a Chris Thile song that is stuck in my head a lot. It's a beautiful song that reminds me of the general situation in Jane Austen novels, but I digress. This is not even what I want to write about today, I just have the song in my head and couldn't think of a title to the post.

Moving on. There is a small conference in the building where I work today. They're a nice conference. Sometimes people that are here for conferences are demanding, condescending, creepy, or a combo of all three, but these are just good folks here today. However, no matter what kinds of people they are, weird things ALWAYS happen to me when there are big groups here by nature of the fact that I am the "catch-all" in the building. So when the client walks in this morning with a box of materials that MUST go to the speaker in a certain room during his session, guess who got to interrupt? That's right. The door is at the back of the room so I walk in while he's speaking and as quiet as I try to be, the door makes a lot of noise. All eyes are immediately turned from the speaker, who's still speaking I might add, and onto moi. He keeps speaking and pretends like he doesn't see me for what seemed like a day. Meanwhile eyes go back and forth from speaker to awkward girl in the back holding a huge box. Finally, he motions for me to come forward, and keeps speaking while I carry the box down the center aisle, place it on the back table, and basically run out. Why couldn't that have waited until the break? Oh well, keeps me humble. The older I get the more I fear that I may never quite lose the total awkwardness that has plagued me since adolescence.

In other news, the first real event that I've planned is today!

4,015 Days of Running

Today is a momentous day for me. It's my 11 year running anniversary. Why do I know this? Answer: I have no idea, but like so many random facts that crowd the corners of my brain, I do. You see, I was a very unathletic kid. I played one season of tee-ball before my parents realized that I had much more interest in the ants and flowers in the outfield than I did in playing the game. But for some reason, on January 14, 1997, this unathletic kid decided she had had enough of the sedentary lifestyle, threw away the potato chips, turned off Oprah and decided to join my dad on his almost-daily run. At the time we lived in a neighborhood with a loop that was .8 of a mile. I couldn't run even halfway around. I used to cry and beg my mom to walk with me. But for some reason, I caught the bug and ran almost every day, finally making it a half mile, one mile, two miles. That fall I joined the cross country team at the high school. I was the worst on the team for the first few races, but happy all the while to pull up the rear. Then, one day I just cut four minutes off my 5K time in one race and earned a spot on the Varsity team.

Things kept up like this, little by little I improved. My senior year of high school I was captain of the cross country team. I went to a private school my first two years of college on a cross country scholarship. I am living proof that anything is possible if you work hard enough. The title of this blog is misleading because I haven't actually run every day for the last 11 years. Just almost everyday. My mom used to say, "If Kelli can run, anybody can." My dad said that if you had told him when I was starting high school that I would go to college on a cross country scholarship he would have laughed in your face. And they're not being mean with these comments, it's just the truth.

Now, I love running. People always say things to me like, "I can't believe that you can run that far." But the truth is, I didn't start yesterday. I started eleven years ago and I have worked for every bit of it. I write all of this to encourage you that you can do it. You can start the thing today and it may take YEARS, but you'll never know unless you try.

Into the Wild

We don't go to movies all that often anymore, so when we do, we want them to be worth the almost $10 per person admission fee. In the last couple of weeks, we have been to an uncharacteristically-for-the-Magees large amount of movies. There just seemed to be a bunch that we want to see. I Am Legend was terrible, unless you like zombie films with little plot in which your favorite character is killed. The new National Treasure was great as far the fun, unlikely, historical conspiracy theory movies go. Brian's boss didn't like it because he's a history buff and he called it completely implausible, but I am fortunately not plagued with that much brain-power and I liked it. Charlie Wilson's War is an excellent movie and provides an interesting view of the history of how the Cold War ended and why we're in the mess internationally that we're in now. Plus, Phillip Seymour Hoffman should win an Oscar for his role in the film. He's absolutely brilliant, but that's pretty much par for the course for him. (Side note: see the movie Capote and this movie and think about the range he has.)

But those movies aren't what this post is about. It's about the movie we saw last Friday at the wonderful new independent theatre in our little town called Cine. Into the Wild. It's based on a book by the same title written by Jon Krakauer. It is the true story of Christopher McCandless, who graduated from Emory in 1991, burned his identification and gave all of his money away before trekking across the Western US, mostly by foot, for two years. I remember loving the book when I read it and unlike some books that are made into movie, this one works. Sean Penn directed it and I feel he captured the story on film beautifully. I still can't put a finger on quite why it touches me so deeply. I wept for a while at the end of both book and movie. The story is just so inspiring and tragic at the same time. Maybe it's the part of me that would do the same thing if my family situation was like his was. Krakauer and Penn both relate the freedom that Chris felt when he was penniless and wandering. It's beautiful; I can't quite put it into any other words.

New year, new jobs

Not so much for me, but for many people around me today. It's career fair day at my place of employment today, which means the usual flood of students trying hard not to look awkward in the black suits that they've either 1)never worn before, or 2)haven't worn in a year or so. It also means that I'll be giving out pens, paper clips, and making copies of their resumes. Helpful hint in case you ever go to a career fair: Bring copies of your resume, you're there looking for a job. Those with the foresight to bring actual copies of their resumes are all clutching them tightly, enclosed for now in the black or burgundy portofolio that they carry. Their faces are part hopeful, part anxious as they nervously laugh with their friends while waiting for the exhibit hall to open. I overhear many plans today about, "working for a year or so before med school."

The other people here today are the exhibitors, those with jobs to dispense to the eager, black-sutied masses. In my experience with all kinds of exhibitors for career fairs and trade shows alike, there are two types. The first is made of sharp-suited men and women who have trendy haircuts and expensive looking watches. These are salespeople who are at home in the multi-shaded suits and sometimes trendy dresses that they stylishly sport with their company nametags and designer sunglasses. The second type is equally smart-watched, coifed, and sunglassed, but they wear any number of company-embroidered shirt, whether it be a golf shirt, button-up, or my personal favorite, the sweater vest. And optional accessories for every exhibitor are the bluetooth earphone thing and the rolling duffel/briefcase/bookbag.

The uncharacteristic thing about today's career fair is the fact that a well-known local fast-food restaurant has set up a truck outside to sell lunch to the future-employed. So, until the fair starts they are trying to balance flimsy paper plates chock full of the greasiest hamburgers, fries, and onion rings on their knees while eating and not getting anything on the new outfit. It's just strange to see all of these dressed up people eating fast food. And what is their breath going to smell like in an hour when they're talking to future employers? Maybe they don't care, maybe they're not actually looking for jobs and are here for class credit. These are just the observations of a person who sees a lot of this kind of thing.

I don't know nothin' except change will come

My husband says that my life is a musical, which is pretty much true. There's always a song playing on the radio in my head and everything reminds me of music I know. All that to say, once again, the title of this post is from one of my favorite Patty Griffin songs. Ten points to anyone who can tell me which. Moving on, this is my review of 2007, beginning 2008 post. I know it's the third day of the year, but I'm not as fast as some of my friends in the blogging world.

So, 2007 was a very interesting year for me. Change was it's name, and I think that when I look back on the whole five years from 2006-2011, it will all be about change. In 2007, most notably, my brother Micah joined our family. Then, Brian graduated from Law School-can I get a what, what!, and I went on a life changing trip to Croatia. I then graduated with my master's and in the same week got the wonderful job that I'm doing now. (Which was also the same week that my man started his new job.) In October, that man officially became a lawyer, which is the answer to so many years of prayer, sweat, and hours reading and typing. Whew! We basically ran full speed ahead for the remainder of 2007. And now for 2008-who knows what. I would have never believed you if you had told me some of the things that would happen this past year on January 3, 2007. So, today I can trully tell you that I have no idea, but my life will not look the same on January 3, 2009 as it does today.

Side note: I didn't think that anyone would notice that we didn't send out Christmas Cards, but someone did. Sorry. For you, the picture in this post is the picture that probably would have been on there. Thanks for noticing!

Update, Update!

(FYI: Title of this blog should be sung to the tune of Dora the Explorer's "Backpack, backpack" song.)

Thank you all for thinking and praying for my family. Dad got the job in Gainesville (GA), so they will not have to move. WOOHOO! I mean, we'll still be moving next year, but at least we will be able to come home to the place that feels like home. This has been a tremendous faith-building exercise for everyone involved, which is good but hard.

Thanks again for your thoughts and prayers.

A Bright Purple Spot in a Very Confused State

You cannot escape it these days, no matter who or where you are. Talk about the impending 2008 presidential election is everywhere, so I have begun to give some thought to the candidate that I may support next year. I think that it's important not only to vote, but to vote according to who you believe is the best person for the job. As such, I am determined to find more out about the candidates in order to make the best decision. The problem with this is that much has changed about me since 2004 and I am back at square one, as they say. Actually, I have never understood much about the political system until now. (All I remember about high school civics is that my teacher made me sing Patsy Cline's Crazy at the opening of every class.) My very patient husband has so far explained to me that I cannot vote in both parties' primaries as I was hoping to because you have to be a registered member of a party in order to do so. "But what if I don't want to be a registered Democrat or Republican?" I cried. To which level-headed Libertarian husband replied, "I guess you won't be voting in the primaries then." Well, too bad. But who do I support next November?

I grew up and still live in Conservative, Republican Georgia, and, as bad as it is, I have pretty much voted as such with no education really about issues, what the candidates believe, and how this resonates with me. I am a terrible member of democracy! Well no more! The Libertarian suggested that I take an online quiz to get an idea of where I fit into the political spectrum. So, one day recently, I found myself with little to do, and not only did I take one quiz, I took five. And, the results of each confirmed what I have thought and the Libertarian feared for a while now. The first labeled me an Anarchist. Wow, really?! I mean, liberal maybe, but anarchist, surely not. I am a big fan of the law. Not only do I think it's necessary for society, but my husband makes a living interpereting it and upholding it. The next four were less harsh. Two labeled me a liberal, one a democrat, and one put me on the political spectrum somewhere between Lenin and the Dalai Lama. Well then. Libertarian joked that he would be taking me to counseling. But I still don't know where I stand politically. Frankly, I don't like labels, and I don't trust internet quizzes. (Thank you grad school.)

My challenge to you is the same that I have for myself. Find out about the candidates and issues they support and don't support and decide for yourself who would be the best person for the job before next November. Vote and be educated about it.

Thus ends my long political blog.

Reasons Why is Going Green

Why? Because it's the in thing to do right now and because it is the author's favorite color.

Want the Millers to stay in Athens?

If you do, then pray that my Dad gets the job he is going to interview for next week! It is with a very reputable poultry company for which he would oversee all of their ______ plants. (I cannot remember what kind of plants mom told me they were on the phone, I was so excited.) If he gets this job, he will have to travel more, but they (Dad, Mom, Grace, Micah, George, & Clifford) will get to stay in the place that we have all grown to know and love as home. This does not mean that the Magees (Brian, Kelli, Rumor, Charlie, & Paco) will get to stay, as the Marines do not have a commuting option, but at least we will have somewhere to come "home" to. If this is all very confusing to you, drop me an email and I'll explain myself better.

But whatever you do, pray that Dad gets this job!

Eternal Perspective on a Friday

On most Fridays I do not have an eternal perspective. Most Fridays are chock full of perspective that stretches maybe as far as Saturday evening. But this week has been replete with a feeling of the curse we live under as wayfarers on Earth. This week began for me with a funeral and started wrapping up last night with another funeral home visitation. It also contained a visit with my mother-in-law who has cancer. My grandfather had his second round of chemo this week. Now, I don't say all of this for you, my two readers, to feel bad for me, what I am beginning to realize at 25 is that this is how this life plays out. The writer of Ecclesiastes was speaking from experience when he wrote that there is a time for everything under the sun. And despite of all the apparent sadness in my life, I am not sad myslef. God is trully giving me eternal perspective today. This is the view where one looks at life and says, "We were not made for this." And I think it's a good place to be sometimes. I know that I was made for more, and I used to think that that would mean I would turn out to be a famous person someday. But it doesn't, it means that I was made for life with the Creator. I am a citizen of Heaven as Phillipians 3:20 talks about. These are the days in which I feel it. And I have no choice but to count this as a blessing.

"Mid toil and tribulation and tumult of her war she waits the consummation of peace forevermore. Til with the vision glorious, her longing eyes are blessed, and the great Church victorious shall be the Church at rest."
-Samuel Stone

Fall Back

I discovered a new thing that I like about adulthood today. In the past when the time changes in the fall (a.k.a. Fall Back), I have lamented greatly because it gets dark so much earlier in the day. However, this morning I discovered to my amazement that time change affects not only the evening, but the morning as well. Since I have been a student for what feels like the past 100 years, I have not noticed (read: I have slept through) the good side of "Fall Back." It's wonderful! It was so light outside that I was early to work this morning. Come five o'clock this evening when I am already using my headlights I may not be feeling the same, but for now, I love it. Usually the worst part is that I cannot run as late in the evening except for in a few select, well-lit places. This I am partially remedying this year as well. My friend Sarah has introduced me to spin classes and I am going to the second one today. We'll see how this goes, but I am thinking the Fall Back might just get a new reputation in my mind.

Hello

This is a word I find myself using a lot. That and "good morning." Sometimes I say "good morning" so many times in a day I still revert back to saying it at 5pm. Thus is the life of an operations coordinator (read-"receptionist"). Occasionally, a guest will stop by my desk just to comment how they would never be able to do my job because I am surrounded by people all the time and I have to be nice to everyone. And, it's true, sometimes, I very much struggle with having to be nice to everyone I see. But the hardest thing for me is that, when in doubt, I am wrong. The customer is right, my co-workers are right, it must be my fault. "Sure, I'll go ahead and get you a refund for parking because you didn't read the sign (that is on the parking meter that you paid) that I made yesterday saying that you didn't have to pay for parking."

Today is one of those days. I don't think I'd be happy doing any job today. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed as they say. Maybe I just need lunch.

Beauty and the Mess

As I sit at my desk on this once-again sweltering fall afternoon, my mind wanders back over the last week. I heard a couple of stories last week that are sad to the point of being almost numbing. The details aren't important; what matters is they left me shaking my head and asking why. It was the first time in a while that I felt like jamming my fist in the air and imploring God to tell me Who He is to do such things to good people, people that I care about. Not that I doubt God, I believe that He is entirely sovreign, it's just that I can't see right now how these events could possibly for good. Read again: I can't see it.

And again, I am reminded to trust that these things are ultimately for the good. I am continually amazed as I speak to and hear about the people in the middle of these situations and their calm amdist the storms. In looking at my future as the wife of a Marine at a time when the international conflicts involving our Armed Forces seems unending, it scares me. I already know people who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom and I know that this number will only grow. What do I do? Do I stay isolated and not give myself as a friend to others in order to protect my emotions?

No. I love movies with happy endings mostly because real life is not like that. Real life is messy and sad, and as John Piper says, suffering only makes our joy more intense. (Note: His podcast is awesome.) We get the beauty and the mess together. I will leave you with a line from one of my favorite songwriters, Sandra McCracken:

"I'd rater have the mystery, and the madness, and the rain, because Hell's the only place we can be free from all love's pain."

Lavingos

No, it's not a dirty word-get your head out of the gutter. It's actually what Grace wants to go to the zoo and see. Lavingos. You know, those tall pink birds that stand on one foot.

Shameless Plug

Here's some advice: If you ever have an event at the Classic Center, request the chocolate cookies with peanut butter in the middle. They'll change your life.

The seaweed is always greener

...in somebody else's lake. Oh the immortal words of Sebastian the crab. I debated for a while what to call this particular post, and it came down to either the winning title (as seen above) or the losing, "I don't know what to do with my life." It seems to me like every time I think I settle on something, I do it for a month and find myself right back where I started - disillusioned , unsettled, and anxious to know what's next. Oftentimes, I think back to the past and wish that I were in some part of it again. And this is where I am right now. I am happy in the day to day, but I really don't see where this is going. And maybe I have to rest in the fact that I may never know. The people and prophets of the Old Testament lived and died for something that they never saw come to fruition. It's amazing to me that they kept faith for more than a day. Because the more I live, the more I think that it doesn't matter what my profession is (or what I do day in and day out), but it matters how I live my life around the people that God puts me around.

I pray that God would grant me grace for feet and faith for eyes so that I can move farther forward, not just farther along.

All we need is love

Five words that rarely come out of my mouth after a radio announcer says, "And here is a song by Nickelback called...," are "Ooohh, I like this song." But that is exactly what you would have heard if you had been in the car with us on the way to Publix last Sunday. I know, I know, it's sad, but hear me out before you judge me. I don't know what the name of the song is, but it's the one that was on the commercial for "Heroes" sometime this last year. The chorus is something like, "If everyone cared and nobody cried, if everyone loved and nobody lied, if everyone shared and swallowed their pride, we'd see the day that nobody died."

It struck me as I heard the song today that the chorus was unintentionally alluding to something that Brian and I have been talking a lot about lately. We've been reading through Romans and it talks a lot about the tension between living by the law and living by faith, but it says that the law is good. So, we were pondering whether we should still live by the whole law when I remembered the verse that I think is in Matthew where Jesus said that the whole law can be summed up in the two commandments, love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself. We discussed how true it is that if we really loved God and everyone there would be no need for all of the other laws. We would naturally fulfill them if we actually all loved each other as ourselves. And I think that whether they are meaning to or not, that is what Nickelback is talking about as well in the "Heroes" commercial song.

Now, I won't get into how because of the fall we are born into sin and we can't fulfill the law so that's why Jesus came, to fulfill it and be the sacrifice in our place in this blog, but maybe we'll get there in another. Romans is fabulous.

Also, as Brian says, "don't hate" about me liking the Nickelback song. I promise it's the only one I don't cringe at.

Oh, Zagreb

So, I feel that I must finish the saga that was my short trip to Croatia. After four wonderful days on the coast, I rode with the rest of the UGA study abroad trip in a big bus for six hours to the capital city of Croatia - Zagreb. It is a charming European city, complete with lots of churches, narrow roads, squares, cafes, and statues. Zagreb does not have a metro system, it is chock full of these bright blue trolley cars that share the roads with the other cars. Since I could never figure out how to get a ticket to ride said trolleys, I opted for the ancient transportation mode of walking. I definitely got my money's worth out of the clearance Kinnucan's Merrells (sp?) that I bought for the trip.

This is where the meat of my trip was to happen. Please ask me in person sometime about my living situation in Zagreb. It's a long story (as my living situations tend to be) and I fear that I would get a little too worked up writing about it here. Nevertheless, my goal in Zagreb was to meet with NGOs that work with victims of human trafficking in Croatia. Not knowing where to start, a wonderful professor from UGA who was there with the study abroad group allowed me to go with him on the first day that we were there to meet a colleague of his at the Philosophy Faculty of the University of Zagreb. She teaches liguistics like Dr. Langston, but he thought that she had some contacts in the women's studies department there. Providentially, her contact was available when I was there and she immeadiately sat down to talk to me about my interests (which, by the way, are the health issues faced by women who are victims of trafficking, as well as the programs that are already in place to serve them). She also introduced me to a secretary on the hall who volunteers at several agencies in Zagreb. Her name is Jasmina (pronounced: Yasmina). Jasmina was wonderful. She dropped what she was doing, called, and set up meetings for me and my friend Jessi on the next day.

So, last Wednesday Jessi and I met with two different ladies who work with trafficking victims in Croatia. They explained to us the cycle of trafficking and what these women face when the cycle is broken. I'll write more about this in another post. They also told us individual stories of women they have worked with and each story is heartbreaking. This is s rhetorical question, but How can we live in what we call a modern society when people are still bought and sold like toothbrushes?

Needless to say, when I finally ran up the escalator at the Atlanta airport and saw Brian's face, I broke down in tears. It was a wonderful trip, but it was a hard trip. All the while I clung to the chorus of an old Rich Mullins song that goes, "If I stand let me stand on the promise that you'll pull me through, and if I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to you. If I sing let me sing for the joy that had borne in me these songs, and if I weep let me weep as a man who is longing for his home."

More Makarska

So, where was I? Dubronik, that's right. Again, Dubrovnik was breathtaking. I just wish that I could have had more time there to explore the city. Oh, another interesting thing about this particular day trip is that we had to drive through a little tip of Bosnia to get to Dubrovnik. On the way home that evening, we stopped at a very nice rest area in Bosnia and I bought some chocolate with the full intentions of brining it home. Alas, I still had a week left, so the Bosnian chocolate did not make it with me - I ate it. At least I can say I've been there, albeit briefly.

The next day we took a trip on an old wooden "sail" boat to two islands off the coast of Makraska. First we stopped on the islad of Hvar in the tiny little town of Jesla. It was so neat to go to all of these little towns. Each one has a little square with cafes and beautiful old churches with bell towers. Next, we went to the island of Brac (pronounced Brach) and spent the afternoon laying out on the beautiful Bol beach. I will mention here that the Adriatic is EXTREMELY salty. So, it is very fun to float around because it takes next to no effort, but when you get out and dry off, you have visible salt deposits all over you.

On the following day, we left Makarska for Zagreb, the capital city of Croatia, which sits landlocked to the northeast of where we were. I will write a post about the escapades there later.

Heaven on Earth

Well, computers were not as easy to come by as I had thought in Croatia, and you have to pay for internet time, so I was not able to post while I was there. Plans always change, don't they? I am now safely home on the other side of the big pond, just up a bit early because my body is still six hours ahead. This is okay, because I am able to do things before church this morning instead of running out the door at the last minute because I didn't get up early enough.

So, Croatia. Well, it was an adventure. In some ways, it was the best trip I've ever taken, but in others, it was the absolute longest nine days of my life. After 3 planes and 30 hours, I found myself last Friday afternoon in the most beautiful place I've ever been - the Adriatic coast. Croatia has lots of coastline, it basically mirrors Italy on the other side of the Adriatic. It also has more than 1300 islands dotting this coastline. A man named Sveto drove me in his car from Split (Croatia's second largest city and home to Diocletian's Palace) to Makarska, where a UGA study abroad group was staying. They had already been in Croatia for almost three weeks, but I know some of them because they are MPH students also, so I had instant friends. We spent the next four days in paradise. I'm serious, before last week, I had no idea that it was even possible for earth to be so beautiful. There were several times when I almost cried because of the beauty. Take the highest mountains you've ever seen (like the ones out west) and put them on the shore of the clearest blue-green water possible. In between there, grow every kind of fruit tree and flower imaginable - that's Makarska.

We took a trip to Dubrovnik, at the southernmost point in Croatia. This area is also known as the Dalmatian coast. Dubrovnik is an old walled city with stone ramparts and steep, rocks on the coast. It looks like something out of a fairy tale. Interesting thing about Dubrovnik, it was once an independent state who's motto is Liberty. It was a very early democracy and is said to be the first country to recognize America's independence from Great Britain.

Okay, now I do have to get ready, so I'll write more later...

More about Croatia

Just in case you're like I was a year ago and have no idea where Croatia is, it was once part of Yugoslavia and is directly across the Adriatic Sea, going east from the boot-like penninsula that is Italy. It is a small country with a very rich history. Zagreb, the capital city, is a very old city that used to be two cities, one that was the upper Catholic city, and one that was the lower, secular city. Zagreb even means "below the hill" referring to the fact that much of it lies below the still standing, ancient cathedral. I hope to visit this while I am there. The first half of my trip will take place on the Adriatic coast in a town called Makarska. This is a fishing village along the coast. Many of the cities dotting the coast and islands still have strong evidence of ancient Roman occupation. This is going to be cool.

Right now, Croatia is hoping to be admitted to the European Union (EU) within the next two years. The official lanuage is Croatian and is a Slavic language. (Translation: it is nothing like anything that I know.) There are about 4 million people in Croatia and their currency is the kuna. That is about all I know now, but I will write more as I learn it.

Most of all, I am thankful that I will not be alone while in Croatia. Two of my good friends are there now and will be there for the first half of my trip. After that, I will be with some undergraduate interns from UGA, of whom I know one girl. Ultimately, I rest in the fact that I am never alone because the Lord is always with me.

Off to Croatia

Hey, for anyone who still reads this blog, I thought I'd let everyone know that I am off to Croatia on Thursday. I am going to hopefully talk to women's groups in the capital city of Zagreb about the issues regarding domestic violence and sexual assualt that they face there and how they serve victims of these crimes. While I am there, I am going to do my best to update this blog with my activities. Please check back here for further accounts of my trip.

Above all, please pray for me as I travel for safety and direction.

Eating my words

Crunch, crunch. What is that sound? Me eating second breakfast this morning? No, it hasn't come to that yet, it's me eating my words. A while ago I wrote a tirade against skinny jeans and slowly but surely they kept growing on me until I found a pair that fit and flatter last Friday at JCrew for $10. So, I bought them. And, what is more, I really like them.

But for the record, they're called matchstick jeans.

Jet Lag Nonsense

I wrote this last week and forgot to post it, so here goes...

March 9, 2007

I feel like my head is spinning because of jet lag, so I am sitting here writing so that I will not fall asleep during my last few minutes at work today. I feel a little bit like I am operating in a parallel universe today. About an hour ago, I went to the bathroom and I am pretty sure that I dozed off on the toilet. It always amazes me when I look forward to big life events, such as the trip to China to adopt Micah, and they just come and go like the wind. On the one hand, I feel like I was there forever. My body certainly feels like it was in a time zone that is 13 hours different than the one I am in now for 2 whole weeks.

In the many hours that I laid in bed last night wide awake, I began to try and process all that I saw, heard, thought, and felt during the time we spent in China. It is absolutely the most amazing thing that I have ever experienced to watch a child be adopted and learn to trust their new family. It is also always amazing to go to another place than the one that I live and realize how very small I am. My tendency is to almost start to feel insignificant, but then I begin to understand that we are all needed for certain purposes. Ever since I have been in graduate school, whenever I go away on a trip or have any sort of break, I get terribly depressed when it’s time to come back to the routine. This happened to me this week as usual, but since I am beginning to understand that I have a purpose, this really changes the light of everything for me. Right now, I am not quite sure what this purpose is, but I have to maintain hope that there is one for me. Oh, but I am rambling because I am so tired and I have about two million thoughts running amuck in my head.

Meanwhile, I am listening to our outreach advocate counsel a victim over the phone. She is unbelievable to be able to deal with what she deals with day in and day out and still have to presence of mind and energy to raise seven children. I mean really, I think I struggle with being a graduate student and having two cats! I think I may have it easy. The stories that some of these victims have blow my mind. Before this semester I had no earthly idea that even half of this stuff went on. It’s insane, you don’t even see some of this kind of stuff on television because it is so unreal. Okay, no more info about that. Just ask me about it sometime. Okay, time to go. I promise that next time I write things will make a bit more sense.

When love takes you in

One week from right now I will be on a plane to China with the rest of my family. Well, all except for one. The one we will be missing is the one we're going to meet. My parents are adopting again, but this time the child is a little boy. His name is Micah, but he doesn't know it yet. In fact, he has a family, a home, and a whole room with toys that he knows nothing about yet. But all of that is about to change in a whirlwind next Sunday when we meet him for the first time. "Like the rain that falls into the sea, in a moment what has been is lost in what will be."

Reflecting on the trip and Micah's adoption always leads me to the Gospel. Micah did not choose the life that he was born into. Similarly, he did not choose the conditions in which he lives. My mom saw his picture on their adoption agency's website one day last February and knew that he was her son. In essence, my parents chose Micah. They have done all of the paperwork, crossed all the t's, dotted all of the i's, and paid for the entire event. We are going to the other side of the world to pick him up and bring him home. He will be given a new name and a new home. He will be a fellow heir of my parents alongside Sarah, Andy, Grace, and me. All of this is not to "toot our own horn," so to speak, but rather to illustrate very clearly the work that God did in Christ on our behalf. We had no choice in the matter. We were helpless, even enemies of God when He chose us and paid for us with the dearest possession that He had, Himself, His Son. He finished all the work and now I am a daughter of God, a fellow heir with Christ himself. I am humbled to even begin to understand these things.

Everything and nothing

"I got the dress, I got the rings, I got a song that I can sing,
I got the bread, I got the wine, but I've the life that I left behind,
I've got everything, but I got nothing without you.."
- Derek Webb

There's one thing that I tell people when they're about to get married now. And it is: You're still the same person when you walk back down the aisle as you were when you were walking up it. I think that it's the one thing that I wish someone had told me, that I would still be the same and that Brian would also. Not that it would have changed my decision, I think I would have been a whole heck of a lot more prepared for married life than I was if I had realized this crucial fact. It's just that as a little girl, I dreamed of having a wedding and a prince charming and riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after. And, while life's great, it's certainly not that. I still have all of the same quirks and insecurities now, I still worry about the same stuff, and am plagued by the same sin. Before I was married, I somehow thought that all of the issues would fade when I became Mrs. Magee but they didn't. And I realize I may be starting to sound negative about marriage, but wait for it, I'm not finished yet.

I love being Brian's wife. I love him so much more than I did on our wedding day. But contrary to popular belief, he did not complete me. He did not fulfill me. Only Christ can do that. So, I must still trust Him like I did in my singleness. My whole worth must STILL come from Him alone. If I have it all, I have nothing without Jesus Christ.

Skinny Jeans

I have been meaning to write about this for quite some time, so, finding myself in the middle of a paper and wanting to procrastinate more, here goes...Skinny jeans, they're "all the rage" this year for some ungodly reason. They fit only 0.02% of the population and they are not even flattering on those people. I know that everyone in my generation swore that we would never, EVER resort back to the clothing of our elementary school years, yet, here we are again. At the beginning of the season when they first began to rear their wide backsides and tight ankles, I was utterly appalled. Then, like magic, I found myself wanting a pair one day. I even went so far as to go to a store and try on a pair. Fortunately for me, ten years of running has left me with "plus sized calf muscles" and the jeans wouldn't even make it up to my waist. So, what I normally consider a curse (my legs), saved me from myself. Now it seems like people are again realizing why we've hated this style since the last time it went out. They seem to be going out quietly, which is good for all women.

Not to spiritualize everything, but when I was thinking about this earlier today, I thought about how this is very similar to the way that sin works. On the outside and at first glance, it might seem horrible and unlike anything that I would ever do. Then, little by little, I see others doing it, hear about how good it may look, and I find myself trying it on for size. It's tricky like that. And it's exactly the reason why I must continually look to Christ for my life, my satisfaction, my guidance, my LIFE. The world will only leave me uncomfortable and funny looking, trying to be something other than who I was created to be.

So, ladies, proudly wear your boot-cut and flare legged pants, and look to Christ, the author and perfector of our faith.

Not my home

There are just some days when I just feel like a stranger here. While I realize that I am called to take up my cross daily, putting aside my self for the sake of showing others Christ's love, there are some days when it would just be way easier to just go home. Today has not particularly been one of those days, but it seems that they are becoming more numerous lately. Take for instance the day last week when we talked about abortion in one of my classes. Now it's just considered another form of birth control. I'm sorry, but how can people be so calous to believe that a human being is not a true human until it is out of the womb? Since when do people who make stupid decisions have the right to murder simply because giving birth is inconvenient for them? How can we really call ourselves civilized when, not only do we not protect our most defenseless members, we give oursleves the right to kill them? These are things that I do not understand in the least.

When I am more incensed about this week's football score than the hungry people in my town I am just ashamed. My only hope is that this is not my home.

Oh what a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ my Lord!

Goodbye, old friend

It's sad, but true. My dear old friend Pluto was given the pink slip yesterday. Apparently it's no longer a planet, sad. Pluto was always a favorite planet for me, besides Earth, of course. The underdog, the little man, in a way, Pluto gave me hope. Sure, it was the smallest and farthest away from the sun, but it kept trucking in its orbit. It was kind of like your "everyday" planet. Like you and me. Nothing special, just doing its job, circling the sun against so many odds. And those heartless astronomers gave it the ax. Now it's a "pluton." At least its lending its name to a new category of space things. But, then again, that's just like Pluto, forging the way no matter what.

Pluto, you'll always be a planet to me!

The Epic DC Housing Story

It's been a while, so I don't know if anyone even reads this anymore, but, just in that case and the case you were wondering about our summer in DC, this post will hopefully answer all of your questions.

To begin, I must admit that we learned the very hard way to never, EVER rent a place before seeing it with your own eyes first. Not pictures, not promises of this or that, you must stand in the midst of the place and see it as it will be when you inhabit it. Maybe this sounds like common sense to you, but this bit of sense was not a natural thing for the Magees before this summer. First, there was place #1. We found it some time ago on Craig's List (mistake #1) and it sounded great. A five bedroom house in Alexandria, of which we would be renting a room and references that described the owner of the house a wonderful, fun, Christian man. Well, we never even met him. Brian arrived at about 8 o'clock on the night before he was to begin work to find no one home, but the door wide open. Upon entering, he was met with a scene that he cannot yet talk about without wincing. The whole house was covered with trash and there were animal cages everywhere-even on the kitchen counter! He said that it smelled like a bad vet's office and that his first thought was, "Kelli cannot live here." So he left and called me in a state just a little less than panic. He stayed at a hotel that night and we called everyone that we knew who might know anyone in DC or the surrounding area.

Fortunately, a friend of a friend lives in a house in Pentagon City with a bunch of guys and they graciously let Brian live there for several weeks while we sorted things out. He said it was a little like living in a fraternity house, but the guys were really great to live with and they charged him nothing in rent. Then, miracle of miracles, after a late night internet search, I found a one bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill in our price range that said it was ready to move in. This was just in time, because I was about to come up for the summer at this point and didn't really want to live with a bunch of guys. So, Brian signed a lease within a couple of days and was supposed to move in the day before I arrived. Well, come that day, the apartment wasn't ready. It was being renovated and would need a couple more days. Well, I came, and what was a couple of days turned into three weeks. I will not even go into the incompetencies of the liar that was the renovator. Meanwhile, we lived in house in Woodley Park that our landlord also owns with about eight other random people. The house was really nice and we loved the area we were in, so it wasn't all that bad.

Finally, July came and we were able to move into our apartment. On the day we did, however, it was so dirty that I had to go out a buy $60 worth of cleaning supplies and scrub the place for a day. Basically the guy "renovated" the apartment and didn't clean a bit of his mess up. Dust and nails were everywhere, not to mention the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink wasn't even hooked up yet. (To date it's still not.) In addition it was "furnished" with the most random things possible. A table and 3 chairs, none of which go together, a stereo that doesn't work, a tv and 3 remotes, none of which actually go with the tv, and a mouse pad and plastic cup in the way of decorations. In the midst of all this weirdness, the bathroom is entirely tiled in marble. I have no idea. So, we have made it as much of a home as possible and have really had a good time, although we are REALLY looking forward to going home to our apartment. It will undoubtedly feel like a palace.

I will end the saga with an event that took place two Saturdays ago. After a day of site-seeing with my brother and sister who were in town for the week, we stepped through the doorway to find that the ceiling right inside the door had fallen in. Yep. Not the whole ceiling, but a good 3x4 foot section of it. We cleaned up the mess, called the landlord, and patched up the hole with a garbage bag. Eleven days and counting, there's still been nothing done about it.

Escaping high school

High school was not a time in my life that I would like to forget, but it's definitely not a time that I would relive for any amount of money. I was a generally mean person. Not on the outside, but on the inside and certainly around my friends. I gossiped like it was going out of style and I would make fun of someone in a heartbeat. And I wasn't even in the "popular" crowd. High school was brutal, both to me and because of me. Nominally, I was a Christian, but I did not act like one. Among my closest friends we would backstab one another. It was a shock for me to make friends in college and not wonder if they were talking about me when I wasn't around.

All of this to say, I have had too many high school-like experiences lately for comfort. It all began a couple of weeks ago when I walked back into a classroom after a break duuring class and all of the sudden the conversation among my classmates came to a screeching halt. Their faces seemed to say, "No, we weren't talking about you...." Sure. All of the sudden I felt exactly like I did six or seven years ago. Like people I had been trying to get to know for a long time were just patronizing me with their friendship and their smiles. My heart really sank in a way that it hadn't in so long. And I know that it's my fault. And I'm sorry.

I've spent the last six years escaping high school probably the same way I would want to escape a burning building. The person that I was then, I wish to be no longer. I don't want to be the patronized one, the one everyone hides from. I don't want to be a backbiting gossiper who fuels her self-worth with the chastisment of others.

I'm so sorry.

"Wretched man that I am! Who will resuce me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"
-Romans 7:24-25a