My Ice Water Challenge - A Reflection

"If I offer you a cup of water and bring you a glass of ice, 

I am trying to teach you patience."

- Jarod Kintz

     Most of us, in recent weeks, have logged into various social media sites and seen a newsfeed full of ALS Ice Water Bucket Challenges. For those of you who haven't enjoyed this phenomenon, there are numerous videos of people having buckets of ice water dumped on their heads. Of course, some are extremely funny, some are super precious; they bring us entertainment as we pray and hope we don't get nominated by a friend or two. It was started by one man who has ALS doing the challenge...then, shortly it spread across the world. Even the nuns were doing it. According to BostInno.com, the challenge has raised over 88.5 million dollars. It's absolutely amazing what this social media effort has done for the ALS Foundation. Of course, there's one troubling thing that I keep thinking about: the amount of water that has been wasted in doing the challenge.

     At first, I found the Ice Water Challenge to be entertaining. I thought it was hilarious watching people I know experience this cold water challenge. But the more and more it took place, the more and more I thought about the water. I have always LOVED water and if you've read my many blog posts about water, you already know about my desire to conserve water. I've done much traveling to countries where I couldn't drink the water...where the natives couldn't drink the water...because it was dirty and unhealthy. This past Summer in Peru, I learned that the people on the hills of Montenegro only get ten minutes worth of water a week. For many of us, that's only enough time in the shower to get wet. The more I experience in other places, the more I am grateful for the gift of water. Seeing all of the Ice Water Challenges got to me...look at all that water. I had to stop watching them. Then, I was nominated. Twice.

      According to the challenge, once a person is nominated, he or she only has 24 hours to complete the challenge. I was nominated twice, so I gave myself 48 hours to come up with a creative way to participate but also to spread the word about water conservation. So, after church last Sunday afternoon, I dragged my sister outside with the video camera and took the Ice Water Pitcher out of my fridge. I started in the back yard, thanking my nominators and giving my plug to ALS, as many other videos. But then I stated my claim about water conservation. Then...I challenged everyone to think about the water and about those who don't have. Then...I put the water back in the fridge and ended the video. My sister, who thought she was going to watch me dump a bucket of ice water on my head was a little disappointed but she mentioned that people were probably going to get mad about my video. I didn't care what kind of uproar it could potentially start. I just wanted to get the word out there. 

     I uploaded the video that afternoon and watched as my likes soared. Comment after comment came filing in thanking me for speaking out for the water. A few people even shared my video. For the time being, I wasn't catching any grief for the video. I was surprised. People were actually listening to my message. They were acknowledging the need for water conservation. I mentioned in my video that in California, the ALS Water Challenge was banned due to a prolonged drought season. Other places in the USA have banned it, too, due to water conservation needs. I thought, how fortunate are we in the US that we can ban such things when in other countries, dumping a bucket of water on your head would not even be thought of. I find it interesting that my pitcher of water that I put in the fridge is something out of which I would later get eight glasses of cold water to drink while in a different country, that same amount of water would be used to bathe an entire family. I started to think about all the buckets of water...that's a lot of baths for families in countries that don't have every day access to water. 

     As the days went on, a few of my friends started tagging me in videos. A close friend's mom tagged me in her ALS Water Challenge. The first thing she mentioned was that instead of filling her bucket up with water from the sink, she used collected rain water. My uncle was nominated and decided to do his water challenge in the garden so that he could water the garden at the same time. Matt Damon (not because of me...) even did something different and used toilet water...or so I've heard. Of course, I'm pretty sure he took a nice long shower after that one. But anyway the point is, people were starting to find conservative ways to partake in the ALS Water Challenge. I found it inspiring really. People were now giving a second thought to simply dumping water on their heads. Of course, it wasn't long before I met my first comment of opposition.

     The comment challenged me to take fewer showers and to brush my teeth once a day instead of twice a day. Now, while many people might be weirded out by that and think, ew the hygiene that won't happen, I, on the other hand, laughed. Not out of spite, honestly, but because for the past four years, I've made a conscious effort to reduce water in the simplest ways. I used to shower every day for at least twenty minutes. In high school, I reduced my showers to about ten minutes. Now folks, that includes shampooing and conditioning my wickedly curly hair. But when I got to college, I made a very conscious effort to shower every other day. No one ever said anything to me about me being smelly, so I don't anyone ever noticed. There are ways to be hygienic without showering every day. I know this may come as a shock to some people, but it's true. It takes one handful of water to rinse your face. It takes two spreads of deodorant not to smell. It takes one ponytail holder or a comb to make one's hair look presentable. I actually like to put my plug out there for the fact that it's actually better for your skin to shower every other day as opposed to every day. 

     There are other ways to conserve water in a day to day life. When you drink ice water, don't dump the ice in the sink when you finish the water. Let it melt and have more water. Patience. When washing the dishes, don't let the water run while you're not rinsing. Instead, fill the sink up and rinse in that. When brushing your teeth or washing your hands, don't run the water while lathering or brushing. If you really want to be conservative, turn the water off in the shower when you wash your hair or shave. Don't drain your pool at the end of the summer like my family does (yes, that was a BIG one because my pool was in the video). We mostly use the same water every year. When doing the laundry, use cold water (conserves energy) and use the lowest water setting. See? Plenty of things one can do. 

      Water is so important to me, not only because I LOVE being by the ocean or the river or the lake or the creek, but because I've experienced what it's like to be thirsty. Maybe it's because I've experienced firsthand what it's like to be a country where water isn't readily available to drink...or to bathe...or to wash hands. I've seen the great and amazing things the ALS Ice Water Challenge has done...I mean look at the amount of money it has raised and the awareness. But I'm challenging you to think about the water and the people who don't have the water before you simply dump a bucket of water on your head. Dump it over the garden, use rain water, make that your daily bathing, use a cup instead of a bucket, jump in the ocean when it's cold or the pool, do something different and do it for the conservation of the water.

Drops of Water

"We know all too well that what we are doing is 

nothing more than a drop in the ocean. 

But if that drop were not there, 

the ocean would be missing something."

-Mother Teresa

The Pacific Ocean at La Punta, Peru

    Just yesterday my family opened our above ground pool to celebrate the beginning of Summer this week (my sisters will FINALLY be done school). I also just took a sip of refreshing ice cold water from my kitchen sink. Currently, it's pouring rain outside and people on social media are complaining about forgetting their umbrella. Later on, after dinner, my sisters and I will wash the dishes while subconsciously letting the water run. Of course, in my city alone, there will be lots and lots of water running when people take their showers after a long day, then another shower after their workout and a final shower right before bed because it's hot out. Ah, the luxury. 

    This morning, I came home from Mass to find that once again the faucet in my kitchen had been left running. Only ever so slightly, but still, it was running. After shutting off the faucet, I asked about who left the water running. Finally, someone said that the faucet was on for the cat. Apparently, cats like to play in the water. But I looked around and saw not a single cat in the vicinity of the kitchen. I also happened to look on the kitchen floor to see, not one, but four (one for each cat or dog) water bowls. I shook my head. Leave it to us, those living in such abundant luxury, to make sure each of our animals had a water bowl. There's a little bit of irony here. 

      Less than a week ago, I was getting my drinking water from a filtered water cooler in the kitchenette. It was room temperature but it was water. Everything we made with water, had to be done with the water in the cooler. So, if we wanted to wash our fruit off, we had to use the cooler. If we wanted to make coffee, we had to use the cooler. And if we wanted to make ice, we had to do it using the cooler water. Why? Well, Peru doesn't have the best water supply, even coming out of the sink. You know how people say, "don't drink the water?" Well, it's true in Peru. Everywhere we turned, the Sisters were making sure we were only drinking the filtered water. Quite a difference then what I have been experiencing at home these past few days. 

     On one of the days, we traveled to Montenegro. This place is my absolute favorite because here, life is simple and because it is simple, it is beautiful. The way there I was thinking if I would be able to live like most of the people in Montenegro. You see, from the school patio you can see mountains upon mountains with beautifully colored huts also known as family homes. Up the mountains run pairs of vibrant green steps. In these homes there is usually no electricity, in some homes, no ways to lock the doors, no way to heat the home or keep it cool, and no refrigeration. But above all, there is no running water. Sister explained it to us like this: some homes have hoses hooked up to their houses that are connected to the water basin on the mountain. Once a week, for five minutes, the water turns on and the family has to fill all the containers they can in those five minutes. Once the water shuts off, they have their water supply for the week. That's right, for the week. 

      After hearing this, I decided, okay, maybe I could do that. But then I thought, I, myself, one person, could do that. I wouldn't need that much water for the week. But what about the families who have seven kids and then maybe grandkids who live in their little homes, slightly larger than my bedroom? Could they do it? I guess they could because every day those families send their kids looking immaculate to school. Yet, they only have five minutes of running water every week. On top of not having 24/7 access to water, they also live in the desert. 

      Now, imagine, after having visited Montenegro a few times, both this trip and last year's trip, what I was thinking when we all came home to find that one of the eight bathrooms on the second floor of the convent had flooded. We had been out on the town all day and during the week we had had some issues with the toilets not flushing all the way or by running all night long. However, not one of us thought anything of the sounds of running water. That sound of running water turned into much more though. When we got home, the first thing I was headed to do was go use the bathroom. However, as I ran down the hallway, suddenly, I was standing in two inches of water. Try to picture the set up: a hallway set up a step, on the left two bathrooms, ahead another bathroom and to the right, a bathroom and a cleaning closet. All four of those bathrooms and the closet were sitting in two inches of water and by the time I happened upon the natural disaster, the water was spilling out over the step and into the hallway; like a mini waterfall. Yes, the sound of running water had turned into literal running water all over the place. Right away, I dashed down the stairs to get a nun, or two, or three and then went back upstairs. 

      As we all pulled together to clean up the small natural disaster, we joked about how we had the biblical flood in the biblical desert. We each found our spot doing something to help the cause, whether it was laying down newspaper (note to self: newspaper is an incredibly nunny and smart way to sop up water), mopping water from various rooms or collecting everything in trashbags and then getting rid of those trashbags. Our shoes were soaked and some of us even ventured further to just do the clean up in flip flops or barefeet. Don't worry, it was just clean water. And that's when it hit me. It was just clean, unused water that we could no longer use...gone. 

     Suddenly, I wondered how many "five minutes" we had just used up. I wondered how many baths or showers we had just lost. I wondered how many glasses of water we could have drank. I wondered a lot about the amount of water we had just accidentally wasted. Of course, there really wasn't anything we could have done with the water, to be honest, other than sop it up with newspapers and our socks. But it was an experience, for sure; a thought-provoking one at that. 

     Water has always been important to me. I have always loved being by the river or the ocean, so in that sense, water is just overpowering for me. However, water gained a bit more importance in my life post-Jamaica service trip. That was the first time I ever had the experience of not being able to drink the water. It was the first time I began to really appreciate my shower. Since then, showers last maybe ten minutes, but the good news is, they can be done in five. Of course, I also began to appreciate ice, cold water, with ice cubes. But there's never a moment where I don't let the ice cubes melt so I can drink that water, too. As for letting the water run while doing dishes, well, I try, I try really hard. 

      Water is something we so often take for granted. We can easily swim in our pools filled with water and if there's too much splashing, we can easily grab the hose and fill it back up. We can easily turn on the faucet for some nice, cold water and drink it, adding ice if we please. We can take showers as long as we want because we don't have five minutes a week to run water. We don't have to hold our water in various containers and pray we make it til the next five minutes. We can complain about not having umbrellas for the rainstorm and stepping in puddles. We can do a lot of things, because we are blessed with water. So, this summer, while we are out enjoying cooling off by a big bottle of water or a jump in the pool, let's remember that it's a privilege not a necessity that we have these things. And that there are plenty of people in this world who are thirsty and dirty tonight because running water is not even a concept for them to understand. Thank God for your blessings of running water and say a prayer for those who have no water. 

There's Always The Kitchen Sink

"The ocean is a baffling element.

I can walk safely on it's shores, caressed by the sands

and yet, if I were to throw my cares to the sea, 

the waves bring them right back again."

Ignore the fact that I look twelve in this picture...
Cape May Lighthouse 2013

     Contrary to former belief, my littlest sister, Lizzie, is not always a saint. Sometimes she can drive me crazy, sometimes she can get on my last nerve, and sometimes she can be the sweetest, cutest, nine-year old I know. What I love (and at the same time dislike) is that she shows her emotions to the full. If she's mad, she stomps her feet all throughout the house while the rest of us are yelling "control your temper, young lady." If she's happy, she'll giggle and laugh and tell the same story over and over and over again. If she's sad, she cries. And not just little tears either, buckets and buckets of sobs. If she's hungry (which is definitely an emotion in my family), she will conjure up the most creative, interesting meal possible with the widest array of items in our kitchen. Of course, this means climbing over and in things which usually results in a huge mess. While her foot stomping, bucket sobbing, and kitchen mess making antics might actually drive one crazy (and most often it does), I can't help but look at her and say, "Wow, I wish I was that comfortable in my own skin to fully express myself."

     The other day, my family and I decided to take a drive down to Cape May. Of course, if you don't have EZ Pass, driving across the bridge, down the Atlantic City Expressway and then down the Garden State can be quite the piggy bank breaker. So, I decided to take the fam down a different route. Of course, I wasn't driving, I was just casually reading my novel in the front seat. You see, my Dad has an incredible sense of direction. So, I guess I kind of assumed that once we got over the bridge, he would know exactly where we were and how we were going to get to Cape May. Well he didn't and a normal 1.5-2 hour drive turned into a 3 hour drive. 

     My sisters were snuggled together in the back seat for most of the ride. We had left at 8:30 which was entirely too early for any normal school kid. When we finally hit the 2.5 hour mark on our trip, suddenly the back seat was full of "Are we there yet?" I couldn't help but laugh, because deep down inside all I wanted was to get out and get on the beach. ASAP. But as we pulled into Cape May County, the skies opened up and it started raining. And when it rains down the shore, it rains cats and dogs. Luckily for me, I had pulled my hair back into two french braids. A rainy day for a curly top is horrible. Talk about looking like you got electrocuted. Anyway, so we parked the car at the lighthouse, I put on my EIC hat (EIC, folks, is the school I lived at in Peru Escolar Inmaculado Corazon) and donned my pink and yellow windbreaker/raincoat. Of course, this than made me appear as a twelve year old instead of a twenty-one year old. We climbed the 199 steps in the lighthouse and the moment Lizzie saw the beach (she hadn't realized we were right there....), she got so excited that she would NOT stop badgering us until she was in the ocean.

     Well, like I said, it was raining, cats and dogs, and wasn't exactly what one would call beach weather. It wasn't even 80 degrees out. (SIDENOTE: When we were younger, we weren't allowed in the pool unless it was 80 degrees. You can only imagine the tactics we had for getting the thermometer up to 80 degrees.) We all had our bathing suits on but really it was too muggy for us even to want to go in the water. Well, all of us except Lizzie. We left the lighthouse and pulled into Sunset Beach, the very tip of New Jersey. We were standing on the rocky beach in the rain and before we knew it, there was Liz, throwing her clothes on the rocks (to get soaked) and in the water. DO NOT we all screamed. But it was too late, she was already thigh high in the water. 

     We probably would have stayed a little longer if the winds hadn't picked up and our stomachs weren't growling. So, we had a misadventure at Wawa before driving through Wildwood to get pictures by the Wildwood sign and then onto Stone Harbor. By the time we got to Stone Harbor, the rains had stopped and it looked like the sun might actually try to come out. As we walked along the beach, the temperature warmed but I had distracted Lizzie by finding lots of seashells, crabs and even a dead jellyfish. Still, it was too foggy to go in the water, even if it was warming up. 

     Lizzie had gotten herself so perked up about going in the water that ever since Cape May, she kept asking when she could go swimming. None of us had the heart to tell her that we probably would not be going swimming that day. We got back in the car and that's when the tears starting pouring. And they weren't silent tears, they came with the sound of a little girl's broken heart. She cried and sobbed and sometimes screamed the whole way out of stone harbor and over the bridge. That's when I had an idea...the Zoo.

     The Cape May County Zoo is literally ten minutes out of Stone Harbor and I thought it would be a fantastic way to get her sidetracked. It seemed to work; she was zooming around to see every animal, sometimes almost knocking us out of the way. I thought to myself, how clever, she'll never remember. That was until we got to the last exhibit in the zoo. It was there that she said: Daddy, now, can we go in the ocean?! She had wanted to get through all the animals just so she could speed up her time on the beach. Clever little girl, veeeeeeery clever. 

     Well, like all of us, she is also a Daddy's little girl and as much as we might drive Daddy crazy, we all know we have Daddy wrapped around our fingers. It's good way, of course; we're definitely not spoiled. But out of his love and affection, we jumped in the car once again and drive through the next few ocean view towns until we finally landed ourselves in Strathmere. Strathmere is a little town I had never actually heard of before but immediately I fell in love with it. We parked the car and unloaded the trunk. Lizzie was already well on her way to the ocean before we even set the blanket down. I wanted so badly to get in the water, but it was way too cold. So, I settled myself down by where the water meets the shore and watched as the baby clams rolled in and out of the sand. 

     About a half hour later, I found myself staring at the water from the comfort of my own blanket. The beach was pretty empty as it was almost 5 in the afternoon and so it was quiet and peaceful. Even though I was with my family, I easily made personal space for myself. I still had my EIC hat on and immediately all the memories of my beach adventures came flooding back. Everything from the one time I fell in a giant sand hole while down the shore with my boyfriend's family, to the time Sister Virginia taught me how to pray from the Life Guard stand in Ocean City to just recently when I was down in Stone Harbor for my birthday and Sister Elaine took me to watch the sunset on the bay. All these beautiful memories came back to me and with the waves went right back out. As I sat and reflected, tears filled up in the my eyes. The ocean is more than a memory to me; it's a part of me. The sands, the shells, the rocks, the fish, the very water itself is all a part of me. When I am near the ocean, I feel complete and when I am far away, something is missing terribly. 

     I tell the story of my little sister, not so as to embarrass her but rather because if I didn't have as much control over my emotions, I would probably throw a fit every time I needed the ocean. She put into visual format what I was feeling when we were driving away from the beach each time. The ocean is such a part of me as it brings so much peace to my mind. It says to me, as big as your troubles or confusions are, I am bigger. The ocean is my God. God is my ocean. I can easily swim in the ocean of God's peace. Just as the ocean is bigger than all my worries and thoughts, God is bigger. My little sister put into view what my heart has been going through in the past few weeks. Happiness and yet pain, joy and sorrow, being pulled in every direction. I just needed to ocean to be able to focus again. As I sat on the beach, on my red blanket, staring off into the ocean, I had a desire for someone to be there with me. I wanted so badly to be able to share that moment with someone who understood all the trials AND jubilations that religious life offers. I thought how beautiful it would be if suddenly anyone of my Sisters were to just walk out on the beach and meet me there, to tell me it will actually be all okay and while the troubles do come, the jubilations are bigger, like the ocean is bigger, like my God is bigger. But alas, I was alone....well, not really. No, in fact, I was far from alone. I had my God, I had my family and I had the memories of some many times in the past. I was far, far, far from feeling alone. 

     As we left the ocean, Lizzie smiled on satisfactorily. She had finally gotten what she had been longing for for a very long time. I looked on through my side view windows at the ocean shrinking behind me and thought two things. First, that I had a feeling I might find myself at the waters edge many times this up coming school year. And two, oh how I would love to live by the ocean. That anywhere I live, I sure hope there is some type of water nearby. But since, in the convent, one doesn't always get what she wants, I guess, if I'm ever in dire need of a body of water, there's always the kitchen sink. 

Heart Breaker and Broken Hearted - The Stream

"For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. 

It is so lovely dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack."

- D.H. Lawrence

    When I was younger, perhaps about 13 or 14 years old, I remember a family friend putting her hand to my cheek, looking into my eyes and saying, "One day, you're going to break a lot of hearts." While it may have been something that meant so well, I didn't want to break hearts. I only wanted to love. I didn't understand why I would break hearts. I didn't think it was a good thing to break hearts. But...she was right.

     I've gone through boyfriend after boyfriend after....well, I've only had two. Boyfriend number two: he broke up with me. He cried more than I did. And for weeks after, we talked and talked and talked as if nothing really happened, until finally, I said, "talking together, gives false hopes. I'm sorry." I could carve one little notch next to "hearts broken." Boyfriend number one, became semi-boyfriend number three. He was the first notch next to "my broken hearts." However, we could easily call it even after he became semi-boyfriend number three. You see, in a series of conversations consisting of long lists of regrets, his biggest was losing me. Deep down inside, he loved me more than another. And while, I was truly flattered and endeared by his undying love, I just didn't love him the way he needed me to. I simply could not be his significant other. And so, while we dated, we never officially called it being together, and before it got too deep for him, I called it quits. He was notch number two next to "hearts broken." 

     I know it seems so apathetic of me to talk about how many hearts I've broken, which are probably so many more than these two that I know of, but at the time and really up until yesterday, I was apathetic. I cared just a smidgen, but found myself not caring more than caring. I wasn't getting hurt, my heart wasn't being broken. I was being loved more than I needed or wanted. Yet, yesterday, my apathy turned into empathy.

     If you read my blog from yesterday, you know life was rough for me. In fact, it was quite an emotional day. In order for me to really reflect, I took a walk. I hadn't gone for a walk in such a long time. Scratch that, I hadn't gone for a walk during which I had no specific destination, in a long time. I really let my feet move me. I had no plan for a destination, I had no plan for a route. In fact, I felt I could have walked any distance in any direction without caring. I needed to simply put my mind at ease. And so, my feet took over. They took me to a place I never actually went alone before (because the Camilla nuns freaked me out with their horror stories....). The Grotto. As I got there, I thought about how I didn't want to see anyone, because if I did, I would cry instantly. Regardless of who it was. If I continued through the Grotto, I was bound to see people. If I turned around and went back, I was still bound to see people. So, for some strange reason, I sat on the cold stone and let my feet dangle over the stream with Mama Mary standing behind me. 

     Time seemed to not exist, as I closed my eyes and listened. I heard squirrels frolicking in the leaf piles as the stored up for Winter's Hibernation. I heard the cold and frigid breeze whistle through the trees. But my favorite sound was the steady stream singing. As I listened, I truly began to reflect on how the stream could be love and how I was actually the stream. Confused? Read on.

     I know not where the stream begins nor where it ends. All I could see was the present image of the water. I know not where I began (somewhere it God's great creative mind) and I know not where I will end. All I can see is the here and now. But just how water is ripply and unclear, so is my present moment. I asked myself: Who am I now? And so the stream became my love. The stream flowed over and all around rocks and little stones. It seemed to wrap itself around those rocks and stones, going every which why and even out of its way to surround them with itself so they could be soaked. Completely and utterly soaked. But the rocks cannot embrace the water. They just stand there, not allowing themselves to be saturated with the water or the love, and not being able to give back the love. But then there is the soil and the grass and banks surrounding the water. Whenever the water rushes over them, they suck in the love and it's like a hug. They bring the water into their hearts and never let go. They can love the water back. 

     Like I said, I was the water in the stream. There are some people, many people in my life, who are the rocks and stones. I would go out of my way to surround them with my love, so they could be soaked in my love, but for whatever reason, may it be poverty, may it be unability to love, may it refusal to let love in and out, may it be any other restriction. I can love and love and love and love and yet, from these I will never be loved nearly as much in return. Then there are those in my life who are the soil, grass and riverbanks. They accept my love, they soak it in and they wrap themselves around me in return, loving me more than I could ever love them. As my Daddy reminds me, I will never be able to love him more or longer than he has loved me. He is my greatest river bank. I am the stream, some are rocks and stones, and some very few are riverbanks. 

     It was this reality and reflection that came from prayer that broke my heart yesterday. There is a reality in knowing that I can love a person so much and really be willing to do anything for that person, while I don't doubt they wouldn't do the same for me, they can't love me. No, not nearly as much, if even any. For whatever reason he or she may have, it is impossible. I realized yesterday that there are people who I once thought were riverbanks but in reality were just rocks and stones hiding beneath the mud or sand of the riverbank. While they once soaked up my love and gave it back, that could only last so long. They can't, for whatever reason, love me as much as I can love them. This reality broke my heart and made me empathetic to all the hearts I've broken. And I cried for those boys and the pain they must have felt as I walked away saying, "I don't love you as much as you want me to." I cried because I understood. 

      Then I cried for Jesus, who is the ultimate stream. He continuously flows around us trying to love and love and love and love us. Yet, we are rocks and stones. His heart is broken every day by those who do not accept His love or love Him back. And while many do love Him in return, it can't nearly be as much as He loves us. It is impossible for me to love Him more than He loves me. 

      I cried, combining my tears with the tears of the streams, because now I understood. I understood the pain of a broken heart, and I understood that some, for whatever reason, no matter what, can not love (as much) in return. However, as long as I never stop being the stream (and sometimes a tidal wave) of love, I can accept the rocks and stones and riverbanks in my life. I may not know my beginning or my end but I can never stop loving, regardless of how many times my heart breaks. I can never stop. Because Jesus never stops and He lives through me. 

A Sea of God

"A dreamer is a vessel; I will sail my vessel

til the river runs dry. 

I'll never reach my destination if I never try.

So, I will sail my vessel."

- Garth Brooks

     As some of you know, I'm a student leader at my college and so, I got the chance to move in a week early and attend meetings and workshops all week (which will essentially be my future as an educator...). Today, I and my fellow peers were given the opportunity to attend the first ever Student Leadership Institute at my University. The day included multiple sessions and seminars we could attend to learn more about aspects of leadership. One in particular was called "At Sea With God." However, one of my friends misread the title and called it "A Sea of God." For some reason, I found that a little more fitting.

     You see, one of the question presented was, "If I were a boat, what type of boat would I be?" So many different types of boats were presented like fishing boats, sail boats, kayaks, canoes, passenger liners, cargo ships, ice breakers and so many more. However, I didn't need those options to choose from. I already knew what type of boat I would be. There was a picture on the screen, similar to the one above. That's my boat. 

      I absolutely love water. As Brad Paisley says, "I have a love affair with water." True life. But I absolutely love being in/on boats. While I'm terrified of sinking in a huge passenger liner in the middle of the ocean, I would have no qualms about sailing in a little boat across the ocean. Ever since I was little, I've wanted to build a boat like this with my dad and then do something crazy like sail across the ocean with him. True story. I would absolutely love it.

       So why a meager, little, wooden sailboat? Well for one, Jesus was a carpenter. However, there's barely any room from anyone in my boat. Just me. And my journey through life has been and will be the road less traveled, or the seas less sailed. So, I am solo in my journey. However, many people come and go in my life so, of course, there is room for one person if they choose. But I am the only person that can live this life God has planned for me. So, it's a small boat. This means there's not much room for belongings. I've always had this desire to get rid of everything but a few necessities. So in my boat, I'd have only a few things. I'd have my trusty adventure backpack (I've seriously become so attached to that old thing...), my journal, a throw away camera (or a few), a blanket, of course, maybe a pair of flip flops, my bathing suit definitely, my bible, some changes of clothes, and my teddy bear. Oh, and some food. But that's it. I don't need much, so why bring much. My little boat gives enough room to sleep in, and enough room to sail in, and to row in. I would love it. Oh and the name of my boat would be Humility. 

      This boat not only sighs adventure, but it look worn, after much use. It looks like it's withstood so much challenge and chaos. It shows the hard work of long laboring and sailing. I imagine that big, tough, calloused hands have made my boat; the hands of my God. You see, God has given me the sea to sail, but it is up to me to get my boat moving. So, I must sail, catch God's wind, or row. Sometimes the waves will get rough and bumpy, sometimes there might be a storm at sea, and sometimes the waters will be calm. My little boat will be able to withstand it all; it's had tons of practice! And to be honest, I don't know if I'd have an anchor in my boat except only to be anchored in Christ, because I know with God, He will take me so many places. I won't be staying anywhere for real long!

        Yes, that is my boat. A tiny, humble sailboat. Made from wood by hand. Roughed up by years of sailing, but able to withstand so many more years!! But most importantly it will be at sea with God in the sea of God. I will constantly be surrounded by God as I will be surrounded by water. It will just like being wrapped in a hug with Jesus!!! In my boat! 

Charters, Kites and Creeks OH MY!

   If there was one thing that I miss most from being away from home besides the sisters and my family, it's the water. Yes, the dirty Delaware River. I miss it. Truth is, I would go there all the time when I needed space; it's my outdoor Chapel. Something about the steady waves and the wind blowing across my face simply makes me feel so loved by God. While at school, whenever I need that "me" time, I simply go for a walk around campus and take in the beauty of it. But no matter how much "me" time I take, there's always something missing; the water. 

    This past weekend, despite being swamped by homework and the need to clean my room, one of my best friends steered me away from it. And let me tell you how worth it it was. WE FINALLY FOUND WATER!!!!!!!!!!! And mud and swamp and foxes and WATER! Yes, our shoes were covered in mud and swamp life, and yes, I did fall and busted up my chin and knee and YES, we did see a fox. But all of it was so worth it, because literally right down the road there's a creek, that used to be Mary's Lake where residents of our school used to sun bathe on the afternoons off, and I can finally find my solace. 

    The day of adventuring wasn't complete, however. Being on a "mountain" of sorts provides much wind and a few weeks ago, after for the first time flying a kite with one of my best sister friends, bought two of my own kites. Together, my friend and I, after cleaning up all the mud, flew our kites for a good two hours. Having just found the WATER and now having the wind blow across my face, I felt nothing more than pure love for my JC, the one who probably made the day just to spoil me. I can't tell you how much the day of pure, kiddie, freedom set my heart and soul on fire. 

    We all need "me" time with JC, and for me that "me and JC" time is spent in quiet, silent moments being in nature. Yes, it's NORMAL for college students to be walking around the campus, enjoying the Fall weather. But for me, I make it a prayer. Flying kites, was a prayer. Finding the water, definitely a prayer. Everything NORMAL about being a college student is changed when I add the word discernment to my repertoire. And it's only changed very slightly by the mere fact that I find GOD in everything. Especially these beautiful, Fall moments during which, I am simply a CHILD of GOD. Enjoy the adventure photos!