I highly suggest you check out both The Good Women Project and Lauren Dubinsky's blog, you won't be disappointed. Both are linked on the side of this page :)
Friday, May 11, 2012
How will the world see we are different if we don't love people the way Jesus loved people? Yes, we may currently be oppressed and called bad names, but Jesus went through torture, mockery, and death on a cross for our sake. Now in return, let us confidently take on our own burdens of society for His sake. We are all destined for the glory set before us, but the actions of a loving heart is what will make the difference in the life we have right now.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Experience of Sound
I grew up just down the road from my elementary school, in a small historic neighborhood with a lovely park across the street. This neighborhood became the image of my childhood but slowly that's been changing. My elementary school used to be one of the best in the city, everyone wanted to go there. We had kids who went onto middle school, high school, and eventually even places like Harvard and Yale. But now I walk the halls and I don't see the excellence that we used to have. I don't see the pride. I don't see the happiness. I don't see the parent volunteers like I used to. I see a lot of hurt. I see a lot of misbehaving and confusion. I overhear students telling my father (who is a teacher) that they feel ashamed when they don't do well in school, or that their parents will be angry with them. I see students putting themselves down because they were shuffled into a "bad" class, one of a lower level due to their EOG scores. I hear stories of children's home life, and I see them too. Many of the elementary students now live in my neighborhood and I see the lives they are living. I see the poverty, I see the abuse, I see the messed up marriages and faulted families. And most of all, I know the way these things have opened up my own eyes to see beyond my little life.
Now don't get me wrong, we still have amazing families and we still have happy students, but the broken is so evident within our school. A majority of the students don't come from the most ideal living circumstances and it hurts me. I want to take every child and just tell them how much they are loved and how smart they are. I want to tell them that their circumstances don't define who they are, that they're better than that. But of course, that's not a volunteer's place.
I volunteer at my old elementary school and much like my father, I strive to allow children to see beyond the four walls of the classroom. Although we can't physically help the child escape, but we can provide other opportunities to help that child mentally escape, at least for a little while.
My dad works with small groups in the 4th and 5th grade. He pulls these groups out and does little projects with them, often involving history or culture. There was a day last year when my dad assigned each of the student's a famous piece of architecture to write a paper about. A little boy had the London Tower Bridge and just pulled a picture up on google of it. He immediately called my dad over, gasping for air. When my dad reached him, the little boy had started crying and said, "Mr. Lawrence, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
It's moments like that one that breaks my heart. To know that a child has never seen something that beautiful in person. To know he didn't have the experiences that I had growing up. To know that he might not have the family that educates him on these things. There is no diagnosis and it's not my job to know what his personal problem is or even how to fix, but it is my job to provide these children opportunities out, to expand their horizons, to make them see that there's more to this life than little Asheboro, North Carolina.
Music is the language of the soul, the only language that can be understood by anyone. Music is what puts emotion into expression and allows true release of one's feelings. My elementary school was at one time an arts based school but much like most schools in the United States, the arts are being cut from curriculum. Once upon a time, we had full time staff for drama, music, art, gym, and even dance. Now, we have something called "art on a cart" where the art teacher goes to the classrooms rather than having her own. Drama and dance have been completely cut from our school and other extra curricular activities have been cut down in time. It breaks my heart to see a set of student's lose the ability to express themselves through the arts.
And that's where I come in.
Every Christmas, spring, and summer break, I come home to my elementary school with my bassoon in hand, prepared to give a small lesson and music session to the children. I promise you, despite how awkward and loud the bassoon is, you would think these kid's just listened to a world-reknowned musician. Most of these children don't even know what an orchestra is, let alone a bassoon. The joy that a simple music experience brings to children will make you melt. Their faces bright with joy and their hands high in the air because they have so many questions about music.
"How do I join band?"
"How old is this music? What do you call this type of music?"
"How do you read music?"
"Is music fun?"
"How long did it take you to learn? I want to learn the drums and guitar!"
"That was just beautiful!" (this is always my favorite because I know my playing was far from beautiful.)
It makes you realize how blessed you are to have the opportunities that you do. It makes you appreciate the arts and music. It makes you appreciate life in general.
We don't always get the same experiences and it breaks my heart to no end to know that children are being deprived from something as simple as a classical piece of music. Their brains are full of rap and distasteful lyrics, and the simple sounds of Mozart captures them and transports them to a totally different place. The fascination with instruments, woodwind, brass, strings, percussion, it makes them curious, it makes them crave culture. And ultimately this is what I want them to understand, to know how big and beautiful this world is. To appreciate the amounts of diversity and culture there is in the world. I want them to hear music and see art and find joy in dance or theater. I want them to know that their home life might not be forever. That their EOG scores will not define their entire school career. I want them to understand what it is to love life and to really live, and I mean really live. Life is far to short to allow our children to be separated from what makes it beautiful. In all seriousness, take a moment and really listen and look at what's around you. Is the world not just God's personal canvas? Does He not paint amazing and beautiful images and orchestrate lovely melodies around us daily? Please explain to me how we can allow our children to understand the world's own beauty if we keep taking the world away from them.
Now don't get me wrong, we still have amazing families and we still have happy students, but the broken is so evident within our school. A majority of the students don't come from the most ideal living circumstances and it hurts me. I want to take every child and just tell them how much they are loved and how smart they are. I want to tell them that their circumstances don't define who they are, that they're better than that. But of course, that's not a volunteer's place.
I volunteer at my old elementary school and much like my father, I strive to allow children to see beyond the four walls of the classroom. Although we can't physically help the child escape, but we can provide other opportunities to help that child mentally escape, at least for a little while.
My dad works with small groups in the 4th and 5th grade. He pulls these groups out and does little projects with them, often involving history or culture. There was a day last year when my dad assigned each of the student's a famous piece of architecture to write a paper about. A little boy had the London Tower Bridge and just pulled a picture up on google of it. He immediately called my dad over, gasping for air. When my dad reached him, the little boy had started crying and said, "Mr. Lawrence, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
It's moments like that one that breaks my heart. To know that a child has never seen something that beautiful in person. To know he didn't have the experiences that I had growing up. To know that he might not have the family that educates him on these things. There is no diagnosis and it's not my job to know what his personal problem is or even how to fix, but it is my job to provide these children opportunities out, to expand their horizons, to make them see that there's more to this life than little Asheboro, North Carolina.
Music is the language of the soul, the only language that can be understood by anyone. Music is what puts emotion into expression and allows true release of one's feelings. My elementary school was at one time an arts based school but much like most schools in the United States, the arts are being cut from curriculum. Once upon a time, we had full time staff for drama, music, art, gym, and even dance. Now, we have something called "art on a cart" where the art teacher goes to the classrooms rather than having her own. Drama and dance have been completely cut from our school and other extra curricular activities have been cut down in time. It breaks my heart to see a set of student's lose the ability to express themselves through the arts.
And that's where I come in.
Every Christmas, spring, and summer break, I come home to my elementary school with my bassoon in hand, prepared to give a small lesson and music session to the children. I promise you, despite how awkward and loud the bassoon is, you would think these kid's just listened to a world-reknowned musician. Most of these children don't even know what an orchestra is, let alone a bassoon. The joy that a simple music experience brings to children will make you melt. Their faces bright with joy and their hands high in the air because they have so many questions about music.
"How do I join band?"
"How old is this music? What do you call this type of music?"
"How do you read music?"
"Is music fun?"
"How long did it take you to learn? I want to learn the drums and guitar!"
"That was just beautiful!" (this is always my favorite because I know my playing was far from beautiful.)
It makes you realize how blessed you are to have the opportunities that you do. It makes you appreciate the arts and music. It makes you appreciate life in general.
We don't always get the same experiences and it breaks my heart to no end to know that children are being deprived from something as simple as a classical piece of music. Their brains are full of rap and distasteful lyrics, and the simple sounds of Mozart captures them and transports them to a totally different place. The fascination with instruments, woodwind, brass, strings, percussion, it makes them curious, it makes them crave culture. And ultimately this is what I want them to understand, to know how big and beautiful this world is. To appreciate the amounts of diversity and culture there is in the world. I want them to hear music and see art and find joy in dance or theater. I want them to know that their home life might not be forever. That their EOG scores will not define their entire school career. I want them to understand what it is to love life and to really live, and I mean really live. Life is far to short to allow our children to be separated from what makes it beautiful. In all seriousness, take a moment and really listen and look at what's around you. Is the world not just God's personal canvas? Does He not paint amazing and beautiful images and orchestrate lovely melodies around us daily? Please explain to me how we can allow our children to understand the world's own beauty if we keep taking the world away from them.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Cut To The Chase
I'm a firm believer that a person's testimony is not their story but rather it's God's story. Our lives are not our own and we're here to be vessels for the Lord. As much as I wish I could say that I wrote my life story, I would not be giving credit to the proper author. Let's be serious, God's a much better writer than I ever will be.
As I said before, the best way to get to know me is to just dive in.
I figured there was no better way to do this than to tell you my testimony. Because you see, I wasn't always this girl who sought after the heart of God. I didn't even really start out as a Christian. I was a pretty broken person who did some pretty stupid things. I was a good kid growing up and I had a loving family that enforced Christian morals, but I didn't know what it was to know God. Jesus was the man hanging on the crucifix in my hallway. I had no clue what it meant to have a personal relationship with Him or even understand the extent He went through for silly old me. I was blind.
I had grown up a happy girl, unintended teacher's pet, book nerd, artsy chick, and complete band geek. My life was pretty normal up until high school. Once freshman year of high school hit, the world opened up to me and I had a new set of eyes with a whole array of options to choose from. Unfortunately for me, I chose a long and emotionally distorted relationship which led me to have skewed views of Christianity and God. Once I managed my way out of that relationship and back onto my own two feet, I was attempting to figure out who I was and figure out who God was. I had gotten so wrapped up in this guy, I had no idea where my identity even stood anymore. I started attending FCA with my best friend, who we'll call Lloyd for identity purposes, and things started to make sense again. That was up until I hit the wall at the end of my junior year.
While sitting in a practice room one day, my best friend confided in me about his new set of beliefs. Lloyd and I had known each other for almost 15 years and the only set of beliefs that he ever had was a belief in God. However, his mind was changed and he now believed in nothing. Nothing. Such an empty word. Such an empty feeling. His questioning of faith drove me to question my own faith. Did I really believe in nothing too?
It wasn't until senior year did I really have a major crisis of faith. Around the end of October I came down with a severe case of mono and was out of school for almost two months. At least, this is what I always told people. I really did have mono but that wasn't the only thing I was suffering from. In reality, I had collapsed on the floor of my kitchen in pain and was rushed to the hospital. Within a few days I found myself at a specialist being told that I have something called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, PCOS for short. PCOS is a disease that plays the role of the highest cause of infertility in women. It affects the function of female organs and targets the chemicals in the body, often producing too much insulin and androgens, causing significant changes in the body including; appearance, heart and blood vessels, menstrual cycle, weight gain, depression, cystic ovaries, and the ability to have children.
The ability to have children. That was the only line that stuck with me throughout the entire appointment. I didn't care about the medicine, I didn't care about the lifestyle change, all I cared about was the fact that I couldn't have children. My entire life all I had ever wanted was to be a mother and I felt like God was taking that away from me. November 11th, 2008 would mark the day that I would stop talking to God.
I began using feminism as a means to cope with my new illness. I began working at "Skirt! Magazine" in hopes to make people aware of this incurable illness. The more I worked there, the more I began realizing the issues women face in society and I slowly became obsessed with the constant need to have the same rights as men. I would write about people in my blog, people I knew, men I knew, and how much wrong they did to women. I wrote to the point of getting angry emails from people, insults and hate mail in my inbox everyday. The more hate I got from the public, the more I wanted to write about them.
By the time I reached college, my view on life was incredibly messed up. I had gone through various treatments at this point to try to stop the pain from my PCOS, but nothing could be found that worked. I had sunk into a deep depression and still continued to write hateful things against and about men.
This was the case until one day I had discovered that Lloyd, who also came to the same college as I did, began doing drugs, abusing alcohol, and having sex. I was no saint myself, but I was in shock at this kind of behavior. As I returned to my room that night, my roommate suggested that I pray. I hadn't talked to God in almost a year. Not a single word went to Him in over a year, and I'm not about to just ask for His help when I need it, isn't that a sign of weakness?
But I gave in and on the floor of my closet, I asked God for one thing and one thing only, a sign that He was with me. I didn't get my sign that night.
The next night, I had a PCOS attack on the back steps of my dorm. I began crying out of pain and with the lack of mobility I had, I really had no where to go. As I stood there crying, this random boy came up to me with a broken bicycle, asking if I was okay. As we talked, we discovered that we were both music majors and lived only a floor apart from each other. He offered to take me inside and talk me through what I was going through. I agreed to go with him and to this complete stranger, I told my entire life story. And in return, he led me to Christ. On November 3rd of 2009, I devoted my life to Christ and accepted Jesus as my personal savior. This kid's name is Nate and he will continue to hold a very important role in my walk with Christ.
After I devoted my life to Christ that night, Nate asked me what it was that I asked God the night before. I looked at him and said, "all I wanted was a sign." Nate paused for a moment, tears filling his eyes and said, "Tonight, I left my entire group of friends due to their drinking, drugs, and promiscuous sex. I left them and went to the library and just sat there praying. I asked for a sign too. He gave me you."
And with that, Nate and I had become best friends and each other's signs.
Now the story doesn't come close to ending here. After a year of struggling with my feminist views, I eventually gave them up and decided it was time to lead the life of a Godly woman. I suffered through depression which had a great toll on my walk with Christ, but He never left me behind once. I started making new friends, Christian friends. I joined a church and a campus ministry and got involved in a Bible study. Most importantly, I finally understood what it meant to have a personal relationship with Christ. I knew what He suffered through for me and this realization shook me to the bone.
Although, all these things were happening in my life, there was still a part of me that did not give to Christ. I feared with every fiber in me to give my health to God.
I had gone through at least seven medical treatments and three doctors and no one was ever able to find a treatment that worked for me. I was scared, I was in pain, and I refused to give it to God.
Until one night in 2010, I found myself lying in a hospital bed due to pain that had become so unbearable, I could barely function. After hours of exams and testing, no one could figure out was wrong. PCOS should not be causing this much pain, no matter how far along the patient is. I had been internally bleeding for a couple of days now and there seemed to be no end to the confusion and misery. That night, the doctor stated that the amount of internal bleeding I had was equivalent to that of someone who has had a miscarriage. I was lucky I came in when I did.
But lucky wasn't the proper word, blessed was much more appropriate. Because this was the night that I realized that God was with me and I could have had a much closer call than I already did. That night, I laid down my health at the foot of the cross and told Jesus that it was not something that I could carry on my own anymore.
Within two months, I had an official diagnosis. I had Endometriosis and the combination of the PCOS and Endometriosis had caused a worse case scenario for my body. With every treatment we found for one of the illnesses, it made the other one worse and vice versa. That was until June of 2011 when my new doctor finally found a combination of medicine that treated both PCOS and Endometriosis with no severe side effects from either of the illnesses.
A combination of 5 medications and a monthly injection.
By the end of summer, I had been pulled out of my depression, I rarely ever faced pain, and my body started to regain it's strength and stability. And although, I can't say that I'm completely cured, I can say that I've regained a somewhat normal life again. This would have not at all been possible if it weren't for the amazing grace, forgiveness, and healing of our Lord. You see, I believe in miracles and healing. I believe that you can be disgusting, dirty, and shameful, and can still clean up pretty nicely. I believe in forgiveness and love. And I believe that no matter how broken my past is, it's only something that was there to glorify God. This life is not my own, this body is not my own, and God had a reason for every pain I felt, every tear I cried, and every awful thing that I did wrong. Because in reality, I was trying far too hard to get by on my own, instead of turning to God to help carry me. We are His children, and He's not going to ever leave us. There is no end to His glory.
These days, I'm just a Christian who happens to be a college student. And just like every typical college student, I still screw up and I still have no clue what I'm doing with my life. I co-lead a 27 person Bible study through CRU and have a passion for young girls. I want them to find their identity and their value not in men or in society, but in God. I plan on pursuing a degree in library sciences, although I know I'm being called to be on staff with CRU. Nate is still one of my best friends, along with a loud and sassy girl named Katie, and an old high school friend named Thomas. I'm still artsy, still a band geek, and still a book nerd. I like to pick up junk from the side of the street and create new things out of it and I enjoy thrifting on sunny days. I dropped the feminist title a long time ago, but I'm not afraid to make it known that I'm a woman... a woman of God that is. I can be defined by a lot of titles but my identity is found only in God.
I'm a broken person and I'm just here to love the broken.
As I said before, the best way to get to know me is to just dive in.
I figured there was no better way to do this than to tell you my testimony. Because you see, I wasn't always this girl who sought after the heart of God. I didn't even really start out as a Christian. I was a pretty broken person who did some pretty stupid things. I was a good kid growing up and I had a loving family that enforced Christian morals, but I didn't know what it was to know God. Jesus was the man hanging on the crucifix in my hallway. I had no clue what it meant to have a personal relationship with Him or even understand the extent He went through for silly old me. I was blind.
I had grown up a happy girl, unintended teacher's pet, book nerd, artsy chick, and complete band geek. My life was pretty normal up until high school. Once freshman year of high school hit, the world opened up to me and I had a new set of eyes with a whole array of options to choose from. Unfortunately for me, I chose a long and emotionally distorted relationship which led me to have skewed views of Christianity and God. Once I managed my way out of that relationship and back onto my own two feet, I was attempting to figure out who I was and figure out who God was. I had gotten so wrapped up in this guy, I had no idea where my identity even stood anymore. I started attending FCA with my best friend, who we'll call Lloyd for identity purposes, and things started to make sense again. That was up until I hit the wall at the end of my junior year.
While sitting in a practice room one day, my best friend confided in me about his new set of beliefs. Lloyd and I had known each other for almost 15 years and the only set of beliefs that he ever had was a belief in God. However, his mind was changed and he now believed in nothing. Nothing. Such an empty word. Such an empty feeling. His questioning of faith drove me to question my own faith. Did I really believe in nothing too?
It wasn't until senior year did I really have a major crisis of faith. Around the end of October I came down with a severe case of mono and was out of school for almost two months. At least, this is what I always told people. I really did have mono but that wasn't the only thing I was suffering from. In reality, I had collapsed on the floor of my kitchen in pain and was rushed to the hospital. Within a few days I found myself at a specialist being told that I have something called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, PCOS for short. PCOS is a disease that plays the role of the highest cause of infertility in women. It affects the function of female organs and targets the chemicals in the body, often producing too much insulin and androgens, causing significant changes in the body including; appearance, heart and blood vessels, menstrual cycle, weight gain, depression, cystic ovaries, and the ability to have children.
The ability to have children. That was the only line that stuck with me throughout the entire appointment. I didn't care about the medicine, I didn't care about the lifestyle change, all I cared about was the fact that I couldn't have children. My entire life all I had ever wanted was to be a mother and I felt like God was taking that away from me. November 11th, 2008 would mark the day that I would stop talking to God.
I began using feminism as a means to cope with my new illness. I began working at "Skirt! Magazine" in hopes to make people aware of this incurable illness. The more I worked there, the more I began realizing the issues women face in society and I slowly became obsessed with the constant need to have the same rights as men. I would write about people in my blog, people I knew, men I knew, and how much wrong they did to women. I wrote to the point of getting angry emails from people, insults and hate mail in my inbox everyday. The more hate I got from the public, the more I wanted to write about them.
By the time I reached college, my view on life was incredibly messed up. I had gone through various treatments at this point to try to stop the pain from my PCOS, but nothing could be found that worked. I had sunk into a deep depression and still continued to write hateful things against and about men.
This was the case until one day I had discovered that Lloyd, who also came to the same college as I did, began doing drugs, abusing alcohol, and having sex. I was no saint myself, but I was in shock at this kind of behavior. As I returned to my room that night, my roommate suggested that I pray. I hadn't talked to God in almost a year. Not a single word went to Him in over a year, and I'm not about to just ask for His help when I need it, isn't that a sign of weakness?
But I gave in and on the floor of my closet, I asked God for one thing and one thing only, a sign that He was with me. I didn't get my sign that night.
The next night, I had a PCOS attack on the back steps of my dorm. I began crying out of pain and with the lack of mobility I had, I really had no where to go. As I stood there crying, this random boy came up to me with a broken bicycle, asking if I was okay. As we talked, we discovered that we were both music majors and lived only a floor apart from each other. He offered to take me inside and talk me through what I was going through. I agreed to go with him and to this complete stranger, I told my entire life story. And in return, he led me to Christ. On November 3rd of 2009, I devoted my life to Christ and accepted Jesus as my personal savior. This kid's name is Nate and he will continue to hold a very important role in my walk with Christ.
After I devoted my life to Christ that night, Nate asked me what it was that I asked God the night before. I looked at him and said, "all I wanted was a sign." Nate paused for a moment, tears filling his eyes and said, "Tonight, I left my entire group of friends due to their drinking, drugs, and promiscuous sex. I left them and went to the library and just sat there praying. I asked for a sign too. He gave me you."
And with that, Nate and I had become best friends and each other's signs.
Now the story doesn't come close to ending here. After a year of struggling with my feminist views, I eventually gave them up and decided it was time to lead the life of a Godly woman. I suffered through depression which had a great toll on my walk with Christ, but He never left me behind once. I started making new friends, Christian friends. I joined a church and a campus ministry and got involved in a Bible study. Most importantly, I finally understood what it meant to have a personal relationship with Christ. I knew what He suffered through for me and this realization shook me to the bone.
Although, all these things were happening in my life, there was still a part of me that did not give to Christ. I feared with every fiber in me to give my health to God.
I had gone through at least seven medical treatments and three doctors and no one was ever able to find a treatment that worked for me. I was scared, I was in pain, and I refused to give it to God.
Until one night in 2010, I found myself lying in a hospital bed due to pain that had become so unbearable, I could barely function. After hours of exams and testing, no one could figure out was wrong. PCOS should not be causing this much pain, no matter how far along the patient is. I had been internally bleeding for a couple of days now and there seemed to be no end to the confusion and misery. That night, the doctor stated that the amount of internal bleeding I had was equivalent to that of someone who has had a miscarriage. I was lucky I came in when I did.
But lucky wasn't the proper word, blessed was much more appropriate. Because this was the night that I realized that God was with me and I could have had a much closer call than I already did. That night, I laid down my health at the foot of the cross and told Jesus that it was not something that I could carry on my own anymore.
Within two months, I had an official diagnosis. I had Endometriosis and the combination of the PCOS and Endometriosis had caused a worse case scenario for my body. With every treatment we found for one of the illnesses, it made the other one worse and vice versa. That was until June of 2011 when my new doctor finally found a combination of medicine that treated both PCOS and Endometriosis with no severe side effects from either of the illnesses.
A combination of 5 medications and a monthly injection.
By the end of summer, I had been pulled out of my depression, I rarely ever faced pain, and my body started to regain it's strength and stability. And although, I can't say that I'm completely cured, I can say that I've regained a somewhat normal life again. This would have not at all been possible if it weren't for the amazing grace, forgiveness, and healing of our Lord. You see, I believe in miracles and healing. I believe that you can be disgusting, dirty, and shameful, and can still clean up pretty nicely. I believe in forgiveness and love. And I believe that no matter how broken my past is, it's only something that was there to glorify God. This life is not my own, this body is not my own, and God had a reason for every pain I felt, every tear I cried, and every awful thing that I did wrong. Because in reality, I was trying far too hard to get by on my own, instead of turning to God to help carry me. We are His children, and He's not going to ever leave us. There is no end to His glory.
These days, I'm just a Christian who happens to be a college student. And just like every typical college student, I still screw up and I still have no clue what I'm doing with my life. I co-lead a 27 person Bible study through CRU and have a passion for young girls. I want them to find their identity and their value not in men or in society, but in God. I plan on pursuing a degree in library sciences, although I know I'm being called to be on staff with CRU. Nate is still one of my best friends, along with a loud and sassy girl named Katie, and an old high school friend named Thomas. I'm still artsy, still a band geek, and still a book nerd. I like to pick up junk from the side of the street and create new things out of it and I enjoy thrifting on sunny days. I dropped the feminist title a long time ago, but I'm not afraid to make it known that I'm a woman... a woman of God that is. I can be defined by a lot of titles but my identity is found only in God.
I'm a broken person and I'm just here to love the broken.
Hey There Sunshine
Hello there, I'm Annaliese, but please call me Anya. It's so very nice to meet you :)
If you're reading this blog, there's a very good chance that you already know me. If you don't already know me then please note that this is my fifth blog. Yes, you heard me correctly, my fifth blog. I believe blogs are like journals and as you change, so does your blog. Instead of keeping things current on one blog, I tend to just jump around to multiple blogs. Thus leads us here.
You see, I gave up on blogging in April of 2011 but after multiple requests from friends and a real push from God, I've decided that it's time to beat the writers block and start blogging once more.
Basically, I have a message and I want you all to hear it.
With all that out of the way, let me start by saying that I'm not one for introductions. I'm the type of person that you really have to just start talking to in order to get to know. So I think that's what we're going to have to do. I'll start talking and we'll see where we go from there. Sound like a plan? Good.
If you're reading this blog, there's a very good chance that you already know me. If you don't already know me then please note that this is my fifth blog. Yes, you heard me correctly, my fifth blog. I believe blogs are like journals and as you change, so does your blog. Instead of keeping things current on one blog, I tend to just jump around to multiple blogs. Thus leads us here.
You see, I gave up on blogging in April of 2011 but after multiple requests from friends and a real push from God, I've decided that it's time to beat the writers block and start blogging once more.
Basically, I have a message and I want you all to hear it.
With all that out of the way, let me start by saying that I'm not one for introductions. I'm the type of person that you really have to just start talking to in order to get to know. So I think that's what we're going to have to do. I'll start talking and we'll see where we go from there. Sound like a plan? Good.
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