Word for Writers

By veronica lynn | August 14, 2008

“[ For the director of music. To the tune of “Lilies.” Of the Sons of Korah. A maskil. A wedding song. ] My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer.”- Psalm 45:1 ( NIV)

“And my language and my message were not set forth in persuasive (enticing and plausible) words of wisdom, but they were in demonstration of the [Holy] Spirit and power [[a proof by the Spirit and power of God, operating on me and stirring in the minds of my hearers the most holy emotions and thus persuading them].” - 1 Corinthians 2:4  (Amplified Version)

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Diary- August 5, 2008 Fourth Entry

By veronica lynn | August 5, 2008

I really look up to Robin McGraw, who is married to Dr. Phil.

Robin, at her husband’s request, sits every day in the studio audience of the show, ” Dr Phil”.

 Robin is also the author of a wonderful book titled, ” Inside My Heart.”

Robin seems to have discovered the art of being an ever supportive spouse while at the same time making her own special, individual impact on the world.

I want to be like that.

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Country Camp Quilt

By veronica lynn | August 4, 2008

We were on the road by 6:30, not quite the 5 am departure time he had originally said.

But that is why I had told him to call and wake me up when he was actually leaving his house.

Unfortunately, I woke up every hour on the hour, anticipating that it was time for his call.

At 3:30, I finally gave up on trying to go back to sleep.

Clothes lay out and hair already in a French braid, it took me almost no time to get ready to go.

As I did some last minute re-organizing ( I had packed the afternoon before), I turned the television on and to the Country music channel and sung along to all the hit tunes: Julianne Hough’s “ That Song in my Head”, Sugarland’s “ All I Want to Do”, Delta Goodrem’s “ In this Life” and Trailer Choir’s “ Of the Hillbilly Hook.”

When my boyfriend arrived, I handed him my duffle so I could take the trash out with is.

Having never seen my neighborhood at twilight before, I paused a moment to take in the soothing, silent scene.

We got in my boyfriend’s truck and drove outside of the city limits before stopping at What-A-Burger for breakfast.

I was happy to see that across the street was a still in business Kettle’s restaurant.

When I was a little girl, my daddy would take me to Kettle’s for our monthly father daughter breakfast.

My two sisters and I each had our own restaurant and time alone with Dad.

For me, the moments I spent with my father were among the very best of my childhood memories.

The last traces of nighttime vanished along with our breakfast, which we had taken to go.

At the first sign of sunshine, my boyfriend took my hand, saying with a smile, “It’s our first sunrise.”

As neither of us are usually early morning people, the sunrise was likely also our last, for awhile, anyway.

For the first leg of the journey, my boyfriend had talk radio blaring from the speakers.

I was happy when he switched from that to a mixed CD, which included the song,

 “Forever and Ever, Amen” by Randy Travis.

The chorus goes:

“Oh baby I’m gonna love you forever
Forever and ever amen
As long as old men sit & talk about the weather
As long as old women sit & talk about old men
If you wonder how long ill be faithful
I’ll be happy to tell you again
I’m gonna love you forever and ever
Forever and ever amen”

Two hours later we were in Columbus, Texas, the small town that is home to my world wide known alma mater, Texas Bible Institute.

 

When the school campus closed during the summer, the property is used to hold summer camps for any and all church youth groups which wish to attend.

 

My own church was participating in the camp that week, so my boyfriend and I planned his and my visit accordingly.

Nostalgia not yet present, I forgot all about my earlier intention of taking my boyfriend on a tour of the town.

A quick glance as we drove by suggested that little had been added to the town in the six years I had been away, other than two new restaurants.

 

 

As a student, I had availed myself of just about all the town had to offer.

 

I frequented the Wal-mart (that did not  stay open twenty four hours and, I believe, closed early on Sundays), a Dollar General store ( which my friends and I affectionately dubbed “ The Ghetto Wal-Mart”), the Denny’s restaurant,  the  HEB pantry store, the McDonalds ( the first place I went on every last day of midterms or finals), the Subway, the Sonic, the park with the pier ( which our teachers wanted us to pretend did not exist), the laundry mat,  and the town library.

For all the above instances, I have seen better since then.

We finally arrived at the camp site, having reached the end of the twisting turning, finally paved road which leads there.  

Going onto the property through the flag filled entrance; I felt more that I was returning to the scene of a reoccurring dream than that I was returning home.

I pointed out to my boyfriend the dorm which I had lived in from my first year all the way through to graduation, explaining that I was one of the few students assigned to the same rooms for both years of school.

Just as I had wanted, I walked with my boyfriend down “Eternity”- the appropriately named extra long sidewalk situated between the dormitories and the Blue Jean Café.

When I was a second year student, the Café served as both as mess hall and a classroom.

Our friends were still in the Café, finishing their breakfast of waffles and (what I remember as being) watered down orange juice.

My boyfriend and I had arrived in just enough time to participate in the morning chapel service.

The chapel, now called Ambassadors Hall, was in the earliest stages of construction, back when I was as student.

 

I remember walking with my classmates around the space, praying over it when there was still sawdust on the floor and spare piles of wood still on the ground.

I spent the majority of my hours at school in that building- participating planning meetings for retreats held every weekend, attending daily classes, and going to weekly church services.

The stage in Ambassadors’ Hall, very one on which I graduated has been transformed beyond recognition.

The set has been designed for a twenty-first century audience in mind and renovated for television.

 

While I recognized the amount of work which had been done, it was with some sadness that I noted the progress made.

The Ambassadors’ Hall that I knew and loved no longer exists, even if the building is still there.

A brand new generation of students has moved in and taken over, as they should.

I knew I should have taken more pictures of all “those moments” while I had the chance.

I did not repeat that mistake on this trip, but more about that in my next blog.

After the chapel service, it was time for sports’ competitions. 

My church youth group had to win three volleyball and tug of war games during the course of the day to qualify for the championship game that would be held that night.

Every match was an elimination match.

 

During each game, our whole group, 125 strong, surrounded our team’s side of the volleyball net or tug-of-war pit to cheer our players on.

We had cheers for everything- for points made, for points needed, and for victories secured.

Being incredibly competitive myself, I revel in the intensity and camaraderie of sports.

If I could tumble as well as I can root and if I was a cute in choreography as I am in a short skirt, I could totally have been a cheerleader.

My team took the first place trophy in volleyball and successfully defended their tug-of-war title.

Oh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I saw very little of my boyfriend during our time at camp.

While he availed himself of the opportunity to try out the on property waterslides, I took a walk around the campus, hoping to renew my acquaintance with all my old haunts.

When I went to sit a minute in thePrayer

Garden and found it already occupied.

I would have given in to my impromptu inclination to go for a ride on horseback, but was told that all the time slots had been filled.

I tried to trek to Resurrection Hill, somewhere that for me a student was a special moment sanctuary, only to find that the area was restricted.

The Breezeway, I am almost certain, has been remolded and has had a room removed from it.

The volleyball courts and picnic tables have been repositioned.

The bathrooms in the Blue Jean Café lobby have been not only renovated but completely relocated as well.

I remember using the basketball hoops on numerous occasions, but I cannot recall the paved court that is now there.

The cafeteria food though served, I think, in even smaller sizes now, actually taste better.

(That or I was exceptionally hungry.)

I did not even attempt to walk out to the old softball field. My memories of it are not so great anyway.

I skipped visiting the Student

Center old and additional Foundations For Life buildings.

I did go into N-Dorm.

 

My old rooms there had been assigned to girls from our church while they stayed at camp.

I showed some of my new friends my old bunk bed.

I also took one last look at the single stall restroom and small closet that my five roommates learned to share.

On the way out the front door of the dorm, I noticed that the bulletin board, which I once slept walk to, had been taken down for the course of camp.

It was equally depressing and understandable to me the way that my campus has transformed since I left it.

I have a new home now and so no longer need the old one to remain ready to receive me.

Still, I had hoped to find a little more as it had been then waiting for me now.

Wanting to escape the heat as well as my rueful reflections, I attended a leader’s seminar, hosted by Bro. Tommy, the founder of my school.

In between sharing seven or more seemingly unrelated stories, the pastor preached about staying focused.

His speaking style and his jokes in this session were identical to what I heard from him in class.

It was comforting to see that at least something was steady and certain.

That was the only occasion I spent alone; it was more than enough time.

For the rest of the day, I strove to let myself live and live it up.

I let one of the youth spray paint bright red streaks on both sides of my French braid.

Another friend put glitter both in my hair and on all of both my arms.

A girl ought to sparkle, after all.

While my boyfriend sat nearby with his pals, eating his first of three bowls of ice cream,

I joined some of our other friends for a lively, smack talk filled round of the card game, Spoons.

I was in the top three when we had to put the game on hold.

In the evening was the camp’s final church service.

During worship, my boyfriend took me by the hand, silently inviting me to join him up at the altar.

We stayed up there for a long time together, united though offering up individual prayers.

I found a sweetly satisfying to be standing in the altar with my boyfriend.

It was wonderful to be with the answer to my prayer, especially in the exact spot I had uttered it.

Though the championship tug-of- war and volleyball matches took place after the evening service, the award ceremony would not occur until the following morning.

My boyfriend and I were leaving camp to go to his granny’s farm that evening, and so would not see our team claimed their hard earned trophies.

After celebrating the win and say goodbye to our friends, I waited outside the boys’ dorm for my boyfriend while he gathered up his belongings.

Sitting on a nearby log in the shelter of a green awning, I realized that, while many things had ceased both in my life at and my school since graduation, my relationship with God continued to be constant.

God is the Eternity that connects my time at Bible school to everything I am living now will experience in the future.

I like to think of my life as a patchwork quilt.  Each patch, varied and colorful, joined with the others in pattern designed by God, who is the unbreakable thread that ties it all together.

“For you (God) created my inmost being;
       you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13) 

My life is a literal masterpiece in the making.

My journey in life has only just begun and so had the above road trip.

Stay tuned.

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There is an “I” in LIFE.

By veronica lynn | July 23, 2008

The world today is not an easy one to live in.

I find that it is so easy to lose heart and hope in the midst of hard work and in the name of success.

Even when I am not in the midst of an all out identity crisis, I always have questions.

I try so hard to keep in mind who I am and what I am really about.

I want to dream big dreams; I want always to believe.

I want to let go of all I have come from and never lose sight of where I am going.

I want to be me.

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Pray: It works.

By veronica lynn | July 23, 2008

“People may refuse our love or reject our message, but they are defenseless against our prayers.

Like an intercontinental missle, you can aim a prayer at a person’s heart whether you are 10 feet or 10,000 miles away.”

_ Entry from” The Purpose Driven Life” Daily Calendar)

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Go Ahead. Laugh.

By veronica lynn | July 23, 2008

” Laughter translates into any language.”- Author Unknown

“If you can’t laugh at it, you’re taking it too seriously.”- Nathaniel Summers

” To make mistakes is human; to stumble is commonplace; to be able to laugh at yourself is maturity.” - William Arthur Ward

“You grow up the day you have your first real laugh - at yourself.”- Ethel Barrymore

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion . . . . I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” Kurt Vonnegut

“A smile starts on the lips, A grin spreads to the eyes, A chuckle comes from the belly; But a good laugh bursts forth from the soul, Overflows, and bubbles all around.”- Carolyn Birmingham

“But the fact that some geniuses were laughed at does not imply that all who are laughed at are geniuses. They laughed at Columbus, they laughed at Fulton, they laughed at the Wright brothers. But they also laughed at Bozo the Clown”- Carl Sagan

 ”Laugh and the world laughs with you, snore and you sleep alone.”- Anthony Burgess

“That is the saving grace of humor, if you fail no one is laughing at you.”- A. Whitney Brown

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Suddenly I See

By veronica lynn | July 10, 2008

Life happens so very quickly.  

It seems like just yesterday I was a nine year old girl, presiding over a pretend wedding in my backyard; with a pillow case on my head and a humble bouquet of tattered dandelions in my hand.

 Now, when I look at wedding magazines, I have moved past the wistful wondering stage to a point of beginning to make actual choices and formulate plans. 

 I have always enjoyed being around kids and have helped care for more than my fair share of siblings.

Still, I find myself startled by the repeated realization that the next set of munchkins I raise will be my own children.

  When I think of my future babies, I do so by their potential names.

 I now have two sets of baby photos to study when trying to pictures what my future kids are going to look like.

Nowadays, in the supermarket or at church,  when a toddler smiles at me, I can almost detect a sweet sort of laughing twinkle in all the child’s eyes.

It is as if the baby observing me is thinking to himself, “That girl has no idea all my type is capable of.” 

Gone are the days when I am eager to tune into “America’s Next Top Model”. 

My new television programs of choice are shows such as “Jon and Kate plus 8”, “Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?” and “Bringing Home Baby.” 

I like to tease my boyfriend about how he has brought out a brand new to me, domesticated side of my personality. 

I went out and bought myself plates, glasses, and silverware- plastic but a set nonetheless.

The numerous take out containers that use to fill my fridge have been replaced with a weekly supply of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Every day, I ensure that I make my bed before leaving the house.

This morning I woke up wanting to dust and vacuum.  

I have progressed from wearing mascara sometimes to applying mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, and lip gloss on a daily basis and refreshing it during the day.

It has become rare for me to not use my flat iron.

I have come to prefer my nails with polish on them- yet another  trend that was started and has been sustained by compliments from my boyfriend.  

I talk to my boyfriend all throughout every day.

Two days between dates equates to us not having seen each other for a long time. 

I have morphed into the kind of girl I used to make fun of and yet, oddly enough, I like myself more than I ever have before. 

Something else  I have noticed is how intensely interested I automatically am whenever my boyfriend speaks.

Every detail matters to me. 

It makes no difference what the subject matter is; it doesn’t matter whether my boyfriend is talking to me only or if we are conversing with a group of friends. 

It goes beyond my caring about my boyfriend’s feelings, which, of course, are of the utmost importance. 

I see with crystal like clarity that, if my boyfriend is to become my husband, where he lives, I will live, how his profession will greatly influence our income and social circle, and that his parenting techniques will be applied to our children. 

I understand that my spouse’s faith or lack thereof is going to be what helps make or break or marriage.

I know that personalities, priorities and furniture are all things which will need to be merged and not just one time. 

The things I have always wanted are suddenly all happening to me, and in a sense, inside of me, as well. 

 I am overwhelmed but in the best sense.

It seems like I can hardly keep up, much less express, all that is going on within me.

 Yet, somehow, I find that I am able to take it all in stride. 

I feel like a surfer- as if I have been commissioned with the daunting yet exhilarating task of navigating through great big waves of changed circumstances and developing feelings. 

It seems that every day is turning into some sort of a milestone.

Today’s adventure: Boyfriend meets Mother. 

What is in store for tomorrow? I can only imagine.              

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Something About Summer

By veronica lynn | July 2, 2008

I have spent eight days away from this site and the absence was longer than I like.  

I am still without a home computer.  I have not replaced my old system- still.

 

Only at times like this moment when my I miss and wish to communicate with all of you, my Readers, do I miss my laptop.

Otherwise, I continue to be very pleasantly preoccupied.

 

I was just reflecting this morning on how nice it is to finally be distracted in a happy sense.

 

Never have I had a miserable life but neither has all of my life have been easy.

The last four years have been full of transition. In that time, I have started over and then began over again twice.

I have been hired, cut, and brought back from the same job multiple times and in the process I have decided that never again will I let a company handle me that way.

In my other job, I am weekly heightening both in skill and depth of friendships.

I am active and at home in my chosen church- the first I ever picked for myself.

I have a well established circle of friends and a base of acquaintances which is constantly growing.

 

I have a new home and new friends whom share it.

And, I have a boyfriend.

 

Today is the seven week anniversary of my first date with my first (and, hopefully, last) boyfriend.

It is also the one week anniversary of my first (and certainly not last) kiss.

 

This promises to be an eventful next few weeks.

My mom will be back in town on Thursday. She and my boyfriend will meet in person for the first time.

Mom will also get her first look at the duplex and roommate I selected for me.

Hopefully, she instantly approves all around. And if not, she can join me in adjusting to all the newness of my situations.

(I am in no way trying to say I am anything other than confident in all of my choices. Even so, transition of any type takes time.)

 

At the end of this month, my boyfriend and I are taking a two day vacation.

It will be our first trip together- unless we manage to make it to

Austin to see my boyfriend’s brother before then.

 

I am very excited about this trip! Super stoked, in fact.

We are going to meet up and leave very early the morning of Day One and take the two and a half hour drive to my alma mater- a full

Gospel Bible College/ Camp located in small town

Columbus, Texas.

 

With classes dismissed for the summer, the campus is transformed into a youth camp- complete with water slides, horses, volley ball, swimming, meals in the Blue Jean Café, and nights spent in packed dorms.

Even more memorable are the radically relevant and vitally refreshing services that occur at the camp nightly in the now beautiful Ambassadors Hall.

The chapel was in the beginning stages of construction back when I was a student. I have yet to see the finished product and design.

The irony of that is not lost on me. As a student, both myself personally and the church building was in the early stages of development, with more dreams attached to our identity than substance.

From what I have heard of the new chapel and what I have learned of myself, both it and I have come a very long way.

 

There are so many things and places on campus that I cannot wait to show my boyfriend- “Eternity” (which is the ridiculously long sidewalk which leads back and forth from the dorms to the dining hall)., the prayer garden, Resurrection Hill, the Blue Jean Café (where I worked as both a teenage summer intern and as a Bible College student), and N-Dorm (where I stayed from my first year until graduation.

 My boyfriend won’t be able to see N-3, the room I lived in, since it is strictly a girls’ only dorm.

 

To add to the joy of this excursion, my boyfriend and I will be meeting up with our church youth group, who will be attending camp the same days we will be there.

It will be a whole day and a half of my past merging with my present and it will be party.

 

Day two of the trip will be spent on my boyfriend’s granny’s farm. I am looking forward to getting better acquainted with Granny.

While we are there, I am especially excited to finally see Matty, my boyfriend’s dearly loved, childhood dog.

To try and put the dog in perspective for you:  The night  my boyfriend told me he like me as much as his dog , I knew within myself that my boyfriend was truly attached to me. 

I know to be told that you are cared for as much as someone’s pet seems a strange sort of compliment, but in this case, it really is one.

 

Stop laughing, Charlene!

 

There is more to come, later.

 

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A*Maze*Zing!

By veronica lynn | June 16, 2008

Though the term “aging gracefully” is a term most often applied to those approaching significant milestones of a numerical kind, I am discovering it to be a practice necessary for all stages of life.

 

The daily circus that life so easily becomes often requires that we have the focus, balance and agility of a tight rope walker in order to succeed.

 

In addition, navigating through the myriad maze of distorted mirrors, made material by our own self perception combined by the endless opinions of others, can be a dizzying exercise.

 

Some claim that breaking a mirror reaps a consequence of seven years bad luck. But I suspect shattering the very source of confusing illusions and warped reflections is the quickest escape route out of the not so fun house of self scrutiny.

 

There is a lot involved when it comes to considering another person’s preferences and reconciling those with your own. 

On such occasions, it often follows that more than one well thought, seemingly firmly established idea gets called into question.

Even the slightest challenge to taste, questioning of desire, or call to clarify an opinions feels extremely personal.

It does so because it is personal.

 

There are some matters in which compromise should be unthinkable.

It is up to every human to establish and enforce those standards for themselves.

 

In any attempt to make minds meet, the parties involved must decide what, if any, points of theirs could be conceded in the interest of expanding minds and enabling growth.

This task is all the more difficult when one partner delights in seemingly minor details while the other looks for the big gestures, as is true in my relationship with my boyfriend.

After a full weekend of conversations, some sweetly scintillate and some strained, I could not help but wonder: How do I juggle?

 

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The Motherload

By veronica lynn | May 10, 2008

“Mother May I?” was a favorite pastime of mine when my siblings and I were children.

My older sister, Patricia, was the bossiest and so usually got to be “mother.”

Those days were happy ones, but now that I am grown, I no longer enjoy being involved in kiddy games.

The purpose of mother is not only to protect and instruct but to prepare and empower her offspring to go out into the world and succeed.

Apron strings are great fun for a child learning to cook, but life inevitably requires that we all make numerous changes to both our attitudes and attire.

Little girls all eventually grow in their own pair of high heels.

And, even if their heights are identical, mothers and daughters often do not see eye to eye.

No one can deny that mothers are influential.

I am fairly certain that every daughter over the age of 16 can tell you of an instance when she said something which, to her surprise ( sometimes horror), exactly echoed her mother’s sentiments and/or style of speech.

More than once, I have tried on an outfit in a dressing room only to see my reflection and realize that the clothes I have so carefully selected are ones my mother would wear.

Sometimes, the resemblance is a pleasing one and I buy the outfit. Other times, I shed the garment faster than an ice cream cone melts on a hot summer day.

My mom has given me advice that I have not requested.

But she has also, on numerous occasions, encouraged and enlightened me- more significantly than she may even be aware.

I do not have my mother’s personality, although there have been days when I wish I did.

I do not have my mother’s eyes, ability to cook without using a recipe, nor do I share her enthusiasm for the card game, Bridge.

But I do have my mom and that pretty much makes up for everything else.

Thanks Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

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