Reponse to My Husband is NOT My Soul Mate and then some dating/college advice...

I suggest you read the linked blog post before reading mine...it will make more sense.
http://theartinlife.wordpress.com/2013/07/22/my-husband-is-not-my-soul-mate/

This is exactly how I feel. 11 days before my own 1st wedding anniversary, I know that God did NOT orchestrate events so that my husband and I would get married. He loves us as individuals and blessed our union, but becoming husband and wife was our choice, not a cosmically divined event. Like the author of this article, I like it better that way because I know that the way I choose to live with and love my husband is my responsibility. If and when there are arguments and fights and stress and bitterness and hurt and healing, all of those things are our responsibility and we cannot blame God for whatever hardships we face.

"The One" is a myth that, at worst, leads to disappointment; rationalization of pre-marital entanglement of the emotional and physical kind; disillusioned, desparate, depressed Christian singles who don't understand why God has not given them a spouse yet; and poorly matched couples who stay together and get married because "God told them to," leading to a more-difficult-than-average marriage and the high Christian divorce rate (just perhaps! I have no research to support my guess). At best, a person who waits for "the one" does gets married eventually and happily and doesn't regret anything about their life, or they stay happily single, serving God and others. It seems to me, though, that most people imagine raising their own family...and kissing dating good-bye when you're 18 isn't ideal for finding a spouse and having children at the time of optimal fertility.

One thing that really got to me as I was thinking about and mulling over whether or not I want to raise my own children to "kiss dating good-bye," was a challenge to do the math. For example, let's say a couple (assume they were born in the same year) has a child when they are 34. When the child graduates high school at 18, his parents will be 52. Add four years (at least) for college graduation. Now, as that young man is graduating from college, his parents are 56. Now, the parents believe that before their kids can get married, they must have a strong career. They threaten to withdraw emotional support if their son marries his girlfriend, whom he has been dating for three years and they've been talking about getting married since their junior year in college. Being Christians, they know that they cannot have a sexual relationship until they get married, and they are in love and want to be married, but their parents (her parents also refuse to support a wedding before she has a career) won't allow it...even though they're grown adults. They sin sexually and endure shame and the girlfriend begins to be depressed and now the young man doesn't know what to do. When they finally receive the go-ahead to get married, they are 30 years old and carry so much emotional baggage that it takes a few years of counseling for them to forgive themselves, each other, and their parents. Refreshed and ready to go, they start trying to have a family, but discover that the wife has enormous difficulty conceiving. They weren't told that 90% of a woman's egg supply is gone by the time she reaches the age of 30, not to mention the fact that she was on birth control for the past 9 years before they got married. When they finally, joyously, have their first child, they are 36 and the husband's parents are 70 years old.

70 years old! Now imagine that the very first couple had married and started having kids when they finished college at the age of 22. Their first child would have graduated high school when his parents were 40. And if that first child had been bold enough to marry because he knew he loved his girlfriend and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and she felt the same way, they may not have had so much difficulty having their first child at the age of 24. The new grandparents are not 70 years old, but 46 years old! (Add 4 years for college and 2 years of newlywed/getting settled.) Imagine the difference the grandparents will be able to make in their kids' and grandkids' lives. They have 24 more years to play and romp and impart wisdom than the new grandparents who are 70 years old.

I was blessed with grandparents and even great-grandparents because (not entirely on purpose), the math of my family ended up more like the second example than the first one. Please don't misquote me - children are blessing no matter how old their parents are. Period, hands down, no discussion required. And marriage is a beautiful thing no matter how old the bride and groom are.

But why WAIT? If a couple are in love and want to be married and are of maturity (rather than of age...some 40-year-olds aren't mature enough to get married, and some 18-year-olds are)...why put it off? And more importantly, why put yourself in danger of sinning against the God of heaven? I know some people will say, "You shouldn't just get married so you can have sex! It should be deeper than that!" No offense, but if you think that your relationship can be deeper than sex, you haven't had it before. (And if you aren't married - that's GOOD!) No one in their right minds gets married "just to have sex." It takes a LOT of work to put together the kind of wedding that most brides want, and ain't no one gonna go through that who isn't expecting to be married for their whole life. Therefore, any couple who wants to get married is considering things besides their sexual relationship. Especially Christian couples, to whom I am speaking. What I am saying is that if a couple is attracted to each other and loves each other and wants to have a family together, they will want to have sex with each other. WHY (if you are of maturity) place yourself and your boy/girlfriend in the compromising situation of wanting and dreaming and LONGING to be married for 3, 4, 5 years before you actually tie the knot? I understand apprehension about juggling marriage and school, I've had to deal, and I still am dealing, with it myself. But studies show that married college students do better than their single counterparts. I've seen it be true in my own life - my gpa was higher the last two semesters since I got married. In this way, it's similiar to a common prejudice against student athletes, who are the students with the busiest schedules and, often, some of the highest grades. And even after college is often considered "too young" to get married. Maybe people don't realize just how cheaply you can live and just how much money you can earn when you're willing to do whatever it takes to support a family.

I realize that I digress...quite a bit. This is just something I feel strongly about because of my life experience. Others will feel strongly about disagreeing with me and that's okay with me. I really don't need everyone to think I'm right. I'm sure my perspective is very skewed, especially on an emotional topic like this. I don't mean to criticize people whose lives have played out differently than mine.

I just want to tell the people who picture their lives as a cartoon, imagining their protagonist partner dropping in on them like Aladdin and Jasmine or something silly like that. If you don't want to be single, make it apparent on the outside, how you look. Girls, put on makeup and take time to choose a cute and modest wardrobe (vs t-shirt and athletic shorts every day). Guys, shower and put on deoderant. Comb your hair. Don't just be attractive (adjective - describes you), be ATTRACTIBLE (adverb - describes what you do). Make friends - as many friends as your personality can handle - and be yourself with them. Relax and be honest about who you are because you are special and no one else can offer exactly what you have to offer. Don't pretend to be someone you're not to attract someone you like - remember, you're dating to get married, and you don't want to be someone else forever - you want to be YOU! I never thought I'd marry someone who likes to play video games like I do. It is a geeky thing I never grew out of - I enjoy playing MarioKart or turning on my Game Boy Color or plugging in the N64 for some Zelda every once in a while. I was embarrassed about that when I first starting meeting people at college, but I discovered that when I was honest and open, people tended to like me more! And the best part was, I liked myself more. When I was honest about not liking scary movies and admitted that I like to cuddle with stuffed animals, I became more confident in myself. My friends happened to accept me even with this silly quirks...if others don't, I don't care! There are others and you DON'T have to be friends with everyone. It is okay to have acquaintences with whom you share a few memories, but didn't gel well with you, so you moved on. A perfect example is a girl I knew and saw often my freshman year of college. And though we had two classes together and saw each other everyday, we didn't become close friends because our personalities are polar opposites. She made other friends, and when the year ended we went our separate ways.

Let go of the perfection delusion. There is no reason to stress yourself out trying to be exactly the way you think everyone else wants/expects you to be. Relax a little and be yourself. If you find your self-worth in what you do and accomplish or who your friends are, you will be disappointed. Christians seek their self-worth in Jesus because His love is perfect and never ever changes or lets you down. If you aren't a Christian, you can still make good life choices and be a confident person with attractability.

And remember, God loves you and He wants the best for you. But he also gave you a brain, a discerning spirit, and wise counsel so you can make your own choices, and so that they can be good choices. Consider carefully when you look for a spouse, but be careful of extreme scrutiny. Give second chances, but don't be emotionally insecure enough to allow someone to walk on you. And finally, take everything you hear with a grain of salt, including what I just wrote.

God bless you all!

Embryonic Stem Cell Research and Designer Babies: Where Do We Draw the Line?

            Have you ever wished you looked different? Maybe you want a different eye color or your teeth are really crooked. Maybe when you were a kid you were teased about your freckles or when you fell off the tire swing your broken leg didn’t heal quite right. Perhaps you were born with a “disability” or “deformity” and always feel awkward about meeting new people. Maybe, like me, you learned to talk around a stammering older brother and though he grew out of it, you never have. Maybe there’s a quirk about you that you wish you could change. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve thought about your own children and wondered if they’ll have to deal with the same kind of stuff.

            Advances in genetic research have begun to open doors for couples who want to screen the embryos (fertilized eggs) they produce. Pre-implantation genetic diagnosis (or PGD), a technique developed to look for genetic diseases in embryos, can also be used to determine the sex of the embryo. As science continues to advance, people are looking forward to a time when hopeful parents can select more than their child’s sex—they could select the physical traits of the child.

            This is not yet a possibility, and there are serious ethical implications of the availability of such a procedure. Some on the “for” side of this issue argue that human life does not begin until the implantation of the embryo in the uterus. Others on the same side argue for the “14-day mark,” which is related to the early development of the embryo. Because monozygotic twinning can occur until the 15^th day of the pregnancy, the embryo is not yet a human fetus.

This argument makes me pause. It makes sense to me. When I consider identical twins I know, it is clear to me that they are two different people. If their lives began at conception, wouldn’t they be two halves of one whole? Or which twin is the “copy” of the person before the splitting? No, identical twins are genetic clones, not halves of one whole. They are distinct people—each twin possesses all the faculties of any other human being.

The argument that centers on implantation for the beginning of life makes less sense to me because the embryo itself does not have new properties, just a new location. In the 14-day mark argument, the embryo matures until it can no longer split and form an entirely new human being because the cells are differentiated past that point.

To make the ethical hubbub a little clearer, I need to emphasize that this is not like ordering a Sonic burger. This is not selecting children from a menu of sex and physical traits. This is producing several embryos in a lab using the couples’ eggs and sperm and then sending out the ones that do not meet the criteria. For now, technology can only screen for genetic diseases and sex. The leftover embryos—which could survive if allowed to be born, but are the wrong sex or genetically damaged—are usually sent to labs for embryonic stem cell research. Once they arrive there, they are destroyed in the process of removing their stem cells.

In a new development, though, a recent press release from the Advanced Cell Technology Company claims that their researchers have found a way to harvest embryonic stem cells without destroying the embryo itself. Instead, they use what they call “single blast technology,” where they take one stem cell and use it to produce more stem cells. This is similar to the PGD procedure that I briefly mentioned earlier. In PGD, the DNA in that one cell is analyzed for genetic diseases, which is possible because geneticists know where to look on the chromosomes for the mutated gene.

            This new and less destructive possibility makes me stop and think again. If embryonic stem cell research is ethically objectionable because the embryos are destroyed in the process of harvesting the stem cells, then is it okay if the embryos would not be harmed? But still, what would happen to all the leftover embryos from in vitro clinics? Would scientists freeze them for later use? That would probably not be a viable option because there are already hundreds of thousands of embryos worldwide—where would we keep them all? Then again, they probably wouldn’t take up very much space, so maybe a bank of catalogued embryos would be a good human resource (literally). Then all we would need would be artificial wombs and the human race would be set. I mean, if aliens invade the planet, I know I would want a fallback, just in case.

            If the ethical concern of using human embryos for spare parts is avoided by the Advanced Cell Technology Company’s technology, then all that remains between me and a designer baby are twenty years of scientific advances and my own personal beliefs. Since I have no control over the pace of science, I can only consider my own reaction. The first question I ask is, “Is it ethical?” Well, if there is no destruction of the extra embryos then I would answer with I don’t believe it’s unethical. The next question I ask, though, is this: “Is it responsible?” Just because science can do something, does that mean it should? If this technology is advanced and can become available to the general public at an affordable price, should it be made available? Should scientists and doctors give the choice to those with the means of creating the child they dream of having?

It appeals to me, but no. I prefer to let God be in charge of the life-making while I focus on the homemaking. I am thankful for advances in medicine, but I do not feel that attempting to pick and choose the traits of my offspring is a responsible use of technology.

Besides, my husband is so good-looking, I’m bound to have beautiful babies.

From the Author:

Thank you for reading! For more information on PGD and the Advanced Cell Technology Company, check out the following links.

http://www.empowereddoctor.com/embryo-stem-cells-without-embryo-destruction-now-possible

http://www.cbsnews.com/2100-500164_162-611618.html

"Grief"

This the updated and improved story previously known as "Thirteen Ways." It has endured multiple revisions, peer reviews, and hours of tinkering. I hope it has improved. Enjoy!

Grief

By Ariel Custer

            Janice stirs brown sugar into her husband’s oatmeal. She reaches for the small, sealed, shaker of ground peanuts. She bought it for this purpose, remembering his fatal allergy, but cannot bring herself to mix it in. Phantom memories of their happiness in the earlier days halt her hand. She puts the container in her jacket pocket instead.

            Janice sits in the passenger seat as they drive silently to the hospital, he in his doctor’s coat and she in her nurse’s scrubs. She glances at his coffee. She pops the lid of the peanut container in her jacket pocket. It would be easy to drop a few pieces in at the stop sign up ahead. They stop. He looks right. He looks left. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. But she can’t. He is especially careful around cars now – always responsible and attentive. They go.

            They arrive at the hospital and walk through the parking lot toward the doors. They are silent, with three feet of space between them. Enough space for their baby girl. Janice’s blood pressure rises; she can feel her heart pound as she clenches her fists. She feels as though she could strangle him with her bare hands. She steals a glance at him and cannot help but notice the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and mouth that were not there only four years ago. Those four agonizing years have aged him as much as fifteen years would age any other man. She relaxes her hands with concentrated effort.

            Janice has a bad morning. She checks on her assigned patients and has to correct three nurses-in-training. Some doctor almost kills a patient by prescribing a medication to which he’s allergic. She checks the doctor’s name, but it is not her husband. No, he is much too skilled to make that kind of mistake. Still, his skill wasn’t enough to save their precious Annabelle. She pockets some potassium chloride. She will put it in his leftover spaghetti when they eat lunch.

The ritual of the lunch break began the day they met, nearly 20 years ago. Even after the accident, they continued the ritual. But now they never talk, never make eye contact. They only eat their food in silence, barely acknowledging each other’s presence. Every moment his eyes are not on his food presents an opportunity for the sinister placement of the peanuts. But the accident wasn’t his fault, not really, and Janice can’t forget that fact, no matter how hard she tries. He walks away, unharmed.

            A car accident victim comes in with a broken collarbone and shattered humerus. Janice assists her husband all through emergency surgery. He asks for a scalpel. For a moment she holds it in her tightly closed fist, thinking about plunging it into his heart. She could make his heart bleed like her heart bleeds every day. But the way he said it, with an infinitely tired sigh, and the sheer exhaustion in his face makes her pause. The angry red haze is blinked away from her eyes and pushed from her mind. She hands the scalpel over.

            Another patient. She needs air, needs an escape. All this inner battling has left her breathless and shaky. She switches with another nurse. Before having a quick break, she checks on one of her husband’s patients. He happens to be in the room when she gets there. Janice wants to kick herself, but she decides to check the patient’s vitals anyway. The elderly woman with failing kidneys pats her on the arm – what a good doctor he is; she must love working with him. It is the first time she has seen his eyes all week. His eyes are duller than she remembers. He averts his gaze and quietly leaves the room.

            She must return the potassium chloride before anyone notices. She walks in the room just as the nurse taking inventory asks her if she’s seen it. Janice checks her pockets. Here it is; I thought I would need it. The younger nurse looks suspicious but says nothing. She is blonde with blue eyes; a beautiful girl with a beautiful smile. Like Annabelle. She reaches into her jacket pocket, feeling the peanut container. This time, she thinks. This time I will do it, no matter what he says or does. No matter what I remember.

            She stares at him from across the hallway. She sees the stooped shoulders, the dull gray eyes. She notices the wrinkles again, the white flecks in his hair. She winces at the evidence of the sorrow that has plagued him since that awful day when he backed over their toddler. She can still imagine the frantic crawl beneath the vehicle, his cries, the blood all over his shirt. All she sees is a grieving father, but all she can feel is a motherly ache.

It is five o’clock. Her shift is over. She waits in the lobby. He walks in, looks at her, and they walk out the doors. No words. She does not return his gaze. She cannot. She will follow through this time. No matter what she sees or remembers.

            The silence is heavy in the car as they drive home. Why is it so hard to kill her child’s killer? Why does she not dump the peanuts in his coffee? Why can’t she finally finish him? She mulls over the mystery in her mind, trying to make sense of her conflict of interests. On the one hand, Annabelle deserves justice. On the other, to take that justice would mean destroying the only link Janice still has with Annabelle – her father. The predicament weighs heavier and heavier on her mind and makes Janice feel nauseated.

            When they get home he reheats leftovers and even asks Janice if she wants some, but she isn’t hungry. She goes to her room and changes into her workout clothes. She spends some time in their basement gym. She runs two miles and benches 100 pounds. She can hear him upstairs, watching the news. For a minute she considers going up there, seething and raging, indulging every last animal reaction any mother would have toward the killer of her offspring. She could bash him in the head with a dumbbell. She could drop a bar on his neck. She could pour peanuts all over his head, just in case. His screams would be therapy. But that thought reminds her again of the wailing, mourning, weeping screams that burst from him when he realized Annabelle might be gone. She remembers the way he gripped the bloody body closer to his chest, willing breath into her, shouting for his little girl to come back. Janice remembers the way he yelled for her, telling her to call 911. But it was too late. She runs another mile.

            She finishes her workout and showers. He can hear her in the basement. He knows that she hates him. He hates himself. He wants to talk with her, but her icy stare locks his jaw every time he tries. He could go down there. He stands up from the couch, but his knees and resolve weaken, and he sinks back down. Again. If only he could bring himself to do it. For her sake and even Annabelle’s sake. He has it all set up in the spare bedroom. The rope, the rig, the chair – he would just have to jump. He sighs and closes his eyes, but cannot keep them closed for long. His daughter’s face greets him from the back of his eyelids. Not the bloody face, nor the peaceful face he remembers lying in the casket, but her smiling face; the one that greeted him every day when he came home from work. The images are accompanied by sounds – her ringing laughter, her squeals of delight when they played, her soft and steady breathing when she fell asleep watching sports with him. Those memories keep him going, keep him believing. They keep him from indulging the coward inside him that wants to use the rope. And every day he hopes that one day they give him the strength to reach out to his wife.

             They haven’t shared a room since the accident. When she left, she hoped he would follow her and tell her that they would get through it together. But he didn’t. She moved to the basement, and he stayed upstairs. Now, Janice sits on her bed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She could go up there. Ask that they talk. Scream and yell all of the things she thinks about him, and then cry in his shoulder all of the tears that claw her throat and fuel her agony. She stands up, but her knees and resolve weaken. Again. She stretches out on the bed, the tears leaking from her eyes, her head buried in her pillow. She remembers moments in their lives: their first date, his proposal, the wedding, Annabelle’s arrival and her four wonderful years of life with them. The years that were so unlike this living death. She doesn’t want it to be like this forever.

            Janice sits up suddenly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She doesn’t want it to be like this forever! She begins to pace across the room. What does she want, then? Divorce? Would that bring peace? She doesn’t really interact with her husband anyway. Their unusual arrangement allowed them privacy while they grieved their loss, but now it is just the way they live. She stops pacing when it occurs to her that neither she nor he separated their joint bank accounts. Is that proof of some subconscious desire to remain together? Even in the hellish throes of her grief and pain and utter misery, Janice never wanted to leave him. He is what connects her to Annabelle. No, divorce would only leave her deeper in the black muck of grief.

            Okay, so not divorce and not…whatever this is. Janice’s knees tremble when she realizes the only option left. She has to go up there. She has to talk with him. For Annabelle.

            He hears the stairs creak. He slowly rises from the couch and turns to face the figure rising up from the basement. When she finally steps from the last step to the ground floor, she raises her gaze from the carpet to his face.

            “Charles. I’m ready to talk.”

            

Thirteen Ways

Thirteen Ways

            Janice stirs brown sugar into her husband’s oatmeal. She reaches for the cinnamon sugar, remembering his fatal allergy, but cannot bring herself to sprinkle it on. She puts it in her pocket. One.

            Janice sits in the passenger seat as they drive silently to the hospital, he in his doctor’s clothes and she in her nurse’s uniform. She glances at his coffee. She fingers the cinnamon sugar in her jacket pocket. It would be easy to sprinkle it in at the next red light. They stop. They go. Two.

            They arrive at the hospital and walk through the parking lot toward the doors. They are silent, with three feet of space between. Enough space for a little girl. Janice’s blood pressure rises; she can feel her heart pound harder as she clenches her fists. Another man walks by them, headed to his car. She relaxes her hands, with concentrated effort. The hate simmers. The cold handgun she is packing underneath her blouse seems heavier and heavier. No, there is a witness. Three.

            Janice’s morning is uneventful and husbandless. She checks on her assigned patients. She makes small talk with the other nurses. She pockets some potassium chloride. At lunch she plans to put it in his leftover spaghetti. Lunch comes and goes. They do not say one word to one another. He walks away. Four.

            A car accident victim comes in with a broken collarbone and shattered pelvis. Janice assists him all through emergency surgery. He asks for a scalpel. For a moment she holds it in her tightly closed fist, planning to plunge it in his heart. Then she hands it over. Five.

            Another patient. She needs air, needs an escape. She switches with another nurse.  He is reassigned. Curse her bad luck! The elderly woman with failing kidneys pats her on the arm – what a good doctor he is; she must love working with him. It is the first time she has seen his eyes all week. If looks could kill. Six.

            She must return the potassium chloride before anyone notices. She walks in the room just as the nurse taking inventory asks her if she’s seen it. Janice checks her pockets. Here it is; I thought I would need it. The younger nurse looks suspicious but says nothing. She is blonde and blue-eyed, like Janice’s dead daughter. She reaches in her jacket pocket, feeling the cinnamon sugar container. I will do it. Seven.

            She stares at him from across the corridor. She cannot see the stooped shoulders, the dull gray eyes. She cannot see the wrinkles, the gray hair. She most certainly cannot see the sorrow that has plagued him since that awful day when he backed over her. She does not remember the frantic crawl beneath the vehicle, his cries, the blood all over his best shirt. All she sees is murder. He has never told her he is sorry. She cannot see that he says it every day. She can’t see the suicidal regret. If she could, she would count it. Eight.

            It is five o’clock. Her shift is over. She waits in the lobby. He walks in, looks at her, and they walk out the doors. No words. She does not return his gaze. She cannot. She will do it this time. She has the murder weapon in her pocket. The cinnamon. Nine.

            The silence is heavy, the tension thick. Why is it so hard to kill her child’s killer? Why does she not sprinkle it in his coffee? Why can’t she shoot him? She wants to. Ten.

            He reheats leftovers. Janice isn’t hungry. She goes to her room and changes into her running clothes. She goes to their gym in the basement and runs two miles. She benches 150 pounds. She can hear him upstairs, watching the news. It would be so easy to make it look like an accident. She could bash him in the head with a dumbbell. She could drop a bar on his neck. Then she would pour cinnamon all over his head, just in case. She runs another mile. Eleven.

            Janice finishes her workout and showers. He can hear her downstairs. He knows that she hates him. He hates himself. He wants to talk, but her icy stare locks his jaw every time. He could go down there. He stands up from the couch, but his knees and resolve weaken, and he sinks back down. Again. If only he could bring himself to do it. For her sake. He has it all planned. The rope, the rig, the chair – he would just have to jump. He sighs. Twelve.

             They haven’t shared a room since the accident. She moved downstairs, and he didn’t chase her. Janice knows that at first it was a cry for loyalty, but when he let her go, she figured he wanted it this way. She could go up there. Ask that they talk. Tell him that she hates him. Wait for him to apologize. Then she could finally have what she wants even more than she wants revenge – him. She falls asleep in her lonely bed. Tomorrow is another day. Thirteen.

Marriage Poem!

Ok, I am very excited about this poem. The form is a sestina. The poem has six stanzas: the first five stanzas have six lines and the last stanza has three lines. There are six seed words - one of these words (in my case, a form of the word or play on the word) ends each of the six lines; in the final stanza there are two seed words in each line. The seed words may seem to be randomly distributed, but there is a method to how they are arranged in each stanza. However, it is difficult to explain without being able to show you, and attempting to do so in this format would require more time than I have. My six seed words are perfect, time, sun, remember, if, and love. They take different forms like "son," "perfection," "loves," and "imperfections." In one way this poetry form can be quite difficult. But in another way, once you have a good seed word combination, the poem kinda writes itself. I had a great time writing and revising this poem and I have a product now that I thoroughly enjoy. I will probably keep tinkering, but for now this is the final draft. I hope you enjoy this poem entitled "Simple Instructions for a Perfect Marriage."

There is nothing to having a perfect

marriage. Live your life one day at a time.

Wash the dishes and the clothes. Greet the sun

with a smile. Do what you can. Remember

how you felt on your beautiful wedding day. And if

you can make the time – for you must – to make love

be sure to make the love

that lasts. No one expects perfection.

Be the best other half you can be. If

you run out of time,

you can never get it back. So remember

to say a kind word or none at all. The sun

rises each morning and the sun

sets every night. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Be loving.

Put the other first. Above all, remember

to pray together. No one can be perfect,

but maybe with His help you can get close. Time

flees like a bandit. Do not let it be stolen. If

you do these things, and if

you are these things, the Son

will help you through each day. Time

may fly, but enjoy it! Laugh at his silly joke! Love

each other’s quirks; his little imperfections

that only you know about. Remember

that your sweet husband remembers

that he loves you, even if

you are somewhat less than perfect.

Give him what he needs. Shine like the sun

only for him. Tell him you need, appreciate and love

him. He works so hard for your little family. Time

flies and he knows it – that is why when he gives his time

to play and snuggle and talk, remember

that he keeps trying, even when it’s hard to show you that he loves

you. And then – oh, what joy! – when you whisper into his ear: “If

two are so very happy, imagine the arrival of our son!

For soon we will be three, our own little family. Nothing could be more perfect.”

Love is the hardest thing to be. If

only we had more time to become more perfect

lovers. Reader! Remember what I said about the sun.

~Ariel Custer

Leap of Faith

This story is taken from a paper about my honeymoon...It is the most dramatic scene you've ever not quite witnessed on a water slide so...brace yourself for...THE LEAP OF FAITH!

The water slide that I remember most is called Leap of Faith. It is a glass tube that goes through a small tank. Oh, did I mention that the tank has sharks in it!? Anyway, it goes through that tank and shoots you out the other side into a shark-free landing place. I was so excited to do that slide – I was hopping from foot to foot all the way up the stairs as we waited in line. I had no idea the terror that awaited me. Finally, we were at the front of the line and I got up to the slide. Robbie had just gone. I sat in the launch pad and looked down, down, down, the tube. It was easily a 90° drop. My blood pressure spiked. For two awful seconds, I just sat there staring down the tube, suddenly regretting my decision to go down this slide. I looked behind me. There were little kids in the line. I knew I had to go or risk intense embarrassment. The Atlantis resort is big, but not big enough to hide from everyone who would see me walk down the stairs instead of riding the slide. I took a deep breath and pushed myself toward my doom.

I gained speed at an unholy rate – I am certain I was going faster than the average city speed limit. Water sprayed me in the face, and for a terrifying moment, I thought I felt my body actually come off of the slide. Then I hit the flat bottom part of the slide and in an instant every single sensation in my body was waterlogged. I tried to open my eyes to see the sharks. Big mistake! The water shot into my eyes and felt like a thousand needles stabbing me in the cornea. I was wearing contacts, and I’m still shocked as to how they stayed in my eyes. Then I shot out of the tube and into the landing pool. I was moving so fast I hit the bottom before I came up sputtering, my hair hanging in my face and my swimsuit completely awry. Robbie was waiting for me in the landing pool and helped me to the stairs. He asked me if I wanted to do it again. No way, I told him. Once is enough for me!

Creative Writing Work

Hello! I'm in a Creative Writing class this year. It's challenging - harder than I thought it would be. But I am enjoying it and I have written some pretty neat stuff. At least, I think it's neat. So. I'm going to be posting some of my assignments for you to read! This is partly inspired by my husband, whose blog is here: cuestrianconnection.wordpress.com. I recommend his Fiction link, where he is beginning a story called Knightly. I hope you enjoy it!

Alrighty! I will be posting my first Creative Writing Class post soon.

Make it a great day everyone!

Response to "I Don't Wait Anymore" by Grace for the Road, a blog that was recently shared on Facebook

Link to original blog: http://gracefortheroad.com/2012/02/03/idontwait/

I have been married for a month and two days now...my husband is 19 and I am 20.
Lives are so beautifully different because of God's grace - he can use a single woman in mighty ways and a married woman in different mighty ways. I think sometimes Christians can spiritualize marriage and make it some kind of lofty goal, like it's akin to the glory of God. Well it's not, even with all the great perks (and I'm no dummy, I'm not gonna deny that there are some fabulous perks to being married). But if you stop and think about it with eternity in mind, singleness is the permanent condition, not marriage. As a married woman this sometimes makes me sad, but it is also freeing for me because it reminds me that Jesus is the only permanent thing for me in the light of eternity. It also helps me to lighten up. Sometimes I can get so tense because I lose perspective. Some little thing hurts my feelings, I have a bad dream where he's not there to help or save me (yes, this actually has happened and he was actually in trouble for a few seconds until I came to my senses), or something else happens and I make it a bigger deal than it is. But if I remember that I don't rely on my husband for my happiness, suddenly my expectations settle to an attainable level. Suddenly I have better perspective on life.
And it is that perspective on life that is so very valuable, and a woman does NOT need a husband to gain that eternal perspective.

So when I read this blog and I heard about all these girls (and guys) who bought in to the fantasy of "God will bring you a spouse if you just honor Him," I just wanted to write down my thoughts, as much for my benefit as anyone else's. Because if I heard that message growing up, I certainly didn't buy it. God's really going to drop a husband in my lap? And I don't even need to date - God will just show me in His time? It seems to me that placing myself in situations and groups where I can meet people makes more sense. I don't know, I just have little patience for a girl who cries because she wants to get married but God hasn't left a man on her doorstep with a "From God" tag around his neck yet.

Now, I HAVE only been married a month. So...I'm sorry if I'm a little idealistic in my thinking and experiences. These thoughts are by NO means complete or probably even that coherent, but I need to wrap it up because I'm not really getting anywhere right now and I have class in the morning. So, I will sleep on this and report either tomorrow night or the next day. chau!

It's a baby

[SLIGHT RANT/WARNING] [BIRTH CONTROL ISSUE DISCUSSED]

Now, since this topic is a team discussion between my husband-to-be and me, I took this to him before I posted it and asked if he was comfortable with my rant. He gave me the go-ahead to post and advised me to diversify my research. It has been two days since I wrote this, and I've had some time to think, pray and evaluate my thoughts since then. Something that Robbie pointed out was that I went to Planned Parenthood, an organization that supports abortion and other methods of birth control that I feel are against the spirit of Christianity, which is my personal belief system. (The morning-after pill, which the site called "emergency birth control," makes it impossible for a fertilized egg - a baby - to attach to the uterus and then grow. I feel that this is against my principles of respect for life from the moment of conception.) Anyway, I decided to go back through and comment on my own blog. The underlined remarks are my thoughts a few days after my initial writing of this little article.

I'm getting married in a little less than 17 weeks, and I'm super excited about it. Robbie and I have talked about family planning and decided that it would easiest for us to finish school before we started our family because we want me to be able to stay home if at all possible. Anyway, I've been doing birth control research because I'm an ignoramus on the subject, so I spent around 30 minutes this morning on the Planned Parenthood website gaining intel. I would typically not think to look at this site, but it was one of the first sites to pop up on my Google search, so I figured I'd look to see what kind of information they had on the different methods of birth control. I began to be annoyed rather quickly because of how often this kind of warning popped up.

IMPORTANT! IF YOU FORGET TO DO WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO FOR THIS METHOD, YOU MIGHT BE AT RISK OF PREGNANCY.

Um. Excuse me? RISK of pregnancy like it's some kind of disease?! And another thing that this particular site did was never, not once, use the word "baby" or "child." It was always a pregnancy or a fetus or a fertilized egg (which in my book is a human life, a baby, a child, a person).

All of this ticked me off because if I had it my way, I would skip the whole birth control thing altogether. I would love my husband, enjoy his love for me, work to build a strong and godly family dynamic, and let God do our family planning. I would trust Him to provide jobs and opportunities to do ministry. And then my husband and I would raise a family to do some serious damage to this notion that children are an inconvenience, a burden. When I see a culture that views children as a problem in the present rather than hope for the future, I start to be scared for that culture.

I feel that I understand my dear little friend Shane Buxman better in this moment, because all I want to do is bang my head against a wall and say, "Words, come to Ariel!" I have a feeling that I need to wrestle with this idea more to truly find my footing. I may be saying that I disagree with birth control altogether, but I'm not really sure about that. I think I'm more concerned with keeping my perspective in line. In my planning for the next few years of my future as a new wife with a new husband, I need to always remember the number of lives depending upon our decisions. I need to remember that children are a blessing from the Lord. I want to always remember that God's plans are permanent, while the plans of men are tentative. And I need to be always willing to forgo my will for His. Is birth control a symbol of that for me?

I'm not sure.


My main problem with the idea of family planning is that I need to trust God. My main problem with the Planned Parenthood website was NOT that they had faulty information or that they attacked a religious group or anything like that. I understand that their main audience is people who are choosing to be sexually active with multiple people outside of wedlock. With that in mind, my main problem with the website was their approach to birth control, like if it doesn't work then the woman is doomed to be a mother and her partner has to learn to be a father. 

This offended me in a deep part of my soul, because as I fall in love with Robbie and look forward to our life together, I am excited for the other lives that will come into being because of our love. If the birth control didn't work and I was one of the hundred women who get pregnant even though they're on the pill or whatever we decide to do, I would still be thrilled! And I know that Robbie would be, too. Would it be hard? Inconvenient? Sure, but when are children easy and convenient? Anyway, God makes life and He lets us in on it through the beautiful gift of sex. Where is a better picture of God Himself than when a life, a soul!, is made through making love, through unity? Think about it! With God, love and life always belong together!

I understand the practicality of birth control, and I am not trying to oversimplify or spiritualize something that ought not be simplified and spiritualized. I just encourage people to think. If my one year at college has taught me anything, it's to think. Thank you for reading all the way through my rant and trying to hear my heart. Here's a lollipop. :) Just kidding. God bless!

On the Day of My Engagement

I first woke up around 8:45, but snoozed the alarm until around 9:30, at which point I got up and around because I was meeting Robbie for lunch at noon, though I figured others would join us. That seems to happen a lot. People just flock to us. :) hehe anyway, since I knew I was going to dinner at 5:30 that evening with three other couples from church, all older and married. I decided that since I couldn't dress up much (I was working a camera for the play that night), I would curl my hair. I love having my hair curled, but it usually takes about 45 minutes to get it all curled up nicely. Plus, I like to have extra time to dink around, mess with music, and stuff. Oh, I also wanted to spend some time looking for contacts since I ran out of my dailies this week and have been wearing glasses.

Anyway, I texted Robbie at 11:30 (he has this habit of sleeping in, so I've learned to help him with a little morning sweet talk :D) and said, "G'monin." Lol, that cracks me up so much. Anyway, he responded with some real sweet talk and called me "girlfriend" for the very last time!! GASP! And then what happened?? Well I'll tell you what happened!

So we went to lunch at noon and others came and joined us. There was nothing suspicious going on that I noticed and had absolutely no idea he was going to propose though everyone else at the table knew! And there were FOUR of them! But that's a story that Robbie needs to tell because I wasn't actually there when they all discovered Robbie's plan the night before. So after lunch Robbie said he needed a nap. Now, at this point I was a little incredulous because as far as I knew, he had been asleep until 11:30, and we hadn't stayed up much past midnight. I thought, "Sheesh, how much sleep does he need??" Anyway, I just assumed he had some enormous sleep debt and decided that I could work on homework while he napped. So we said see you later and I went upstairs and grabbed my computer to have my "pre-study study break" hehe and spent the entire hour on David's Bridal looking at bridesmaid dresses. I already had my favorite wedding dress picked out and put in a wish list :D. Anyway, I also called my mom because my sister's basketball team was playing at the state tournament, so I talked with both my mom and my sister for a little while. When I admitted to my mom that I was SUPPOSED to be doing homework, but was browsing David's Bridal instead and had found "the perfect purple", she said "Very cool, too bad you don't have a ring. :(" Nearly at that moment, Robbie texted me the first clue and I told Mom, "Mom I'll get back to you in 30 min I think that's about to change!!"

And then began the adventure of seeking each successive clue, which he wrote in verse. My favorite clue was the final one, which had the line "to become husbands, men must take wives." The entire time I tried to not get my hopes up too high, but when I read that line, my heart quite beating and just starting vibrating. I ran from North to the creek and leaped into his arms, because there he was in all his handsomeness. He said, "Hi." and I said "Hi." :D Then he said that since we're going to dinner with all these married folks, he figured we should at least be engaged. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring, dropped to one knee and said, "So, Ariel Christine Regier, will you marry me?" And I said "I will!!" I don't why it didn't occur to me to say "yes", but my excuse is that I was pretty scatter-brained and breathless at the moment. And then we kissed for the VERY FIRST TIME!!

Not gonna lie, it was kinda clumsy and since I was smiling so widely we very nearly banged teeth. But we got the hang of it pretty fast, so don't you all worry about that. ;) :) Then we spent the next hour calling people, and I managed to overlook my poor faithful friend Mysti Rothfuss, so she gets to be in my engagement day blog to even it out. :)

The rest of the day sped by. It was around 3:30 then, so we went back to Mayfield and got ready for the dinner that evening, which was stinkin TORTURE because my cousins Derek and Kate were there, along with four complete strangers. I didn't know what to do and since I wasn't actually wearing the ring because it needed to be sized, I knew it wouldn't come up in shallow conversation. I tried to get someone to ask about it in a roundabout way because I checked my phone TWICE and TWICE I said that my phone would not stop vibrating because of all the Facebook notifications I was getting. I didn't want to just say, "Oh guess what! We've been engaged for two hours!" because then I knew that people would ask questions that we didn't have the answers to or worse, begin a long discourse on things we already knew. Now, I have nothing against questions or even discourses on marriage, but I had just met four of these people and had only recently begun to know Kate personally through women's chorus at school. I didn't want an awful and awkward evening. It's alright, though. :) I guess it's all out now!

So anyway, after dinner (which was SUPER AMAZING chicken enchiladas yum yum!!) I had to go to work and I was even a little late, but everyone knew what had happened and were smiley and happy for me. It was a great night of work and super fun. It was kinda awful that I had to spend five hours away from my brand new fiance (is that right or is it fiancee? I just don't know...I've never been engaged before :D) on the day we were engaged. 

But we made up for it! When I was finished with work at midnight, we went to the honor's house and watched Ever After, our very first movie as a betrothed couple. :D The movie finished at around 2:10, and we stayed up and talked until around 3:15. (I know this is very late. If you know Robbie, you know the man's Circadian rhythm is late by about three hours.) So anyway, after that we walked back to my room, kissed good night for the very first time, and I went upstairs and quietly got in bed and fell asleep. But not before I slid the ring off my pinky finger (I figured out it fit there :D) and placed it back in the box in the pocket of my coat so that I would not risk its falling off in the middle of the night.

So that is my one and only engagement day in a nutshell. :) I am engaged to be married to my other half, the man who completes and leads me. I am so excited to walk through this life hand-in-hand with the man of my dreams and my parent's prayers. But right now...I need to get ready for church!

Written Jan 13, but Published Jan 30

I decided to keep up with this blog even though Honor's Orientation is over. I am learning so much, and I would like to have a place to put down whatever I learn and hope that something helps someone else. After all, it was the stories of others that helped me to see and escape the cage-of-my-own-doing.

Classes this semester are beginning to be a little overwhelming. :/ My friends (you know who you are) are amazing as always. Way too amazing for my study habits. Speaking of amazing, Robbie still is. :) God is so good and powerful. Everyday something new and beautiful pops out at me. Those moments usually happen when I'm with Robbie. I love him and want to keeps him...

Girls, never settle! Guys, you either! There are people out there who want the same things you want and believe in the same things you do. I think sometimes girls decide to like guys who are so unworthy of them because they think it makes them look superior or spiritual because they are seeing the guy's potential instead of  whatever it is everyone else sees. There is compassion, girls, and there is recklessness. A man who is incapable of taking care of his own spiritual life will not be able to lead you in yours. A man who is emotionally immature and hurt can't care for your heart like he needs to. The Lord is able to bring two hearts together more completely and perfectly than any effort on our part can every accomplish. Wait for Him! And love Him, too.

I wish I could give something to the guys out there. Maybe it's this: we (girls in general) want you to succeed. We want you to win our hearts. But the girls worth having, my brothers, will not hand out the keys to their spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being without commitment on your part. I suppose there are girls who will tease you, lead you on and then dump you. From all the rest of us, I apologize. Your woman should help you to feel like a success. I heard once that there are very few things a man cannot endure if the woman he loves is faithful to whisper belief into his ear. May it be true of us.

Good Things

Intrinsic Good - There is no need for outside good or value to be given; that which is intrinsically good is simply good because of what it is.

Twenty Good Things:
1. Music
2. Prayer
3. Sunsets
4. Pets (any animals, but especially the ones that live in our homes and become our friends, siblings, confidantes, and children)
5. A deep conversation
6. A classic car
7. Movie night with close friends
8. Diamonds
9. Joy
10. Laughter
11. Hard work
12. Helping and serving others
13. Rain
14. Snow
15. A snowball fight
16. Exercise
17. The sun
18. Hope
19. Love (the kinds that God made)
20. Thanksgiving Day football game with my cousins and more pumpkin pie than we can eat...though we always try.

I am a practical person. I have always had a practical, logical, serious personality. And I can actually say "always". Wanna know why? Because when I was in Kindergarten, I complained to my mom that my friends were being immature. I was in kindergarten, and I was already taking life very seriously.

So that's my personality, you get the drift. So I find my "happy place" in a good book or a deep conversation with someone I trust. In September, when it was just starting to cool down, I would take my lawn chair and go outside. I would sit in my chair on the Mayfield quad and just enjoy nature while I read a book for class, or texted a friend. I even took my computer out there and made an outline for one of my classes. If a friend walked by, they would sit with me or stand and talk for a little while. I remember those days, though they were few, and they were just good days filled with good hours spent in good ways. Another good day was Halloween, and I walked down to Broadway with a friend. We saw the kids in their costumes, and their parents. We laughed about some of the costumes and said that the babies dressed like little bears were so cute. We walked back slowly, taking the path that goes by the stream that goes through downtown Siloam. It was a good conversation. I can't even recall most of what we talked about...but I am glad for the memory. It is good just because it happened, because we were together, being happy together. And I believe that's a good thing.

Cha-Ching! Oh wait. Wrong bank.

Blog Question #3. Push back on Freire's concept of education. Pick a passage and disagree with it.

So I'm good at arguing. It's energizing, in a way. In my life, there have been a few times that I have even been so good at arguing that I've convinced myself that I was wrong. You see, I tend to talk through my thoughts, so there are times when I don't even know what I'm thinking until I hear myself say it. With that being said, I am going to "push back" on some things that I read and thought, "Hey! That's not right!", but by the end of my post, I just might be saying "Oh wait. Yeah, I agree with that".

Freire's Quote: "In the banking concept of education, knowledge is a gift bestowed by those who consider themselves knowledgeable upon those whom they consider to know nothing. Projecting an absolute ignorance onto others, a characteristic of the ideology of oppression, negates education and knowledge as a process of inquiry."

Okay, I have never had a teacher who thought I knew nothing. They knew that I had not learned some things. That is the reason for schooling: to learn new things! Just because I learned long division in second grade doesn't mean that my second grade teacher thought that I was dumb; she realized that I was ignorant of how to divide "long" numbers. I don't agree that a teacher who is focused on filling his/her students' heads with new knowledge is participating in an evil system. My favorite classes were the ones where I learned something new every day, and we didn't necessarily have discussion every day. It is true that making learning all about new facts will make it boring. However, making it all about discussion, inquiry, and a personal quest is not the answer, either. Students need to be guided. They need a responsible adult, someone with their best interest at heart, to steer them toward the right paths. As Proverbs 22:6 says, "Start children off on the way they should go,
and even when they are old they will not turn from it." I am very thankful for the people who let me grow on my own, but I am also very thankful for the times that they helped me back on course.

Hippie College

So I found a college for barefoot hippies.

Am I being a bit cynical? Meh. Perhaps. But you know what they say about first impressions. They're important and revealing.

So Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington, has what's called an interdisciplinary system. This means that all students enroll in a single program rather than individual classes. The program is team-taught, meaning that a group of teachers, rather than one professor, teaches the material to a group of about 25 students. Oh and there aren't any grades. I know. It's bizarre. But kind of...intriguing. And a little innovative, too. You see, from what I understand, the "exam" involves a narrative (a paper) and a conversation between the student and professor one-on-one. This shows that you know the content and allows you to share your position about a topic. The material becomes engaging and personal. In  this system, even a chemistry or physics class can come alive whenever you talk about it in light of something that interests you. For instance, a person who wants to be a botanist can talk about how plants convert sunlight into energy and describe the chemical reactions taking place in that process. According the Green College, this kind of "grading" system is more valued by employers because it is more like an actual job. Your boss isn't going to hand you a test and tell you fill in the correct answers. He might ask for a report and then bring you to his office and have you talk through your position/work, whatever that might be.

So that's the basic overview of the approach that Evergreen takes to education. Now for the questions.

How does the college or program differ from JBU?
It has an entirely different grading system and approach to evaluation of learning. The profs teach in groups and grade with conversations. That's pretty different...
What is the aim of their education and how does it differ from JBU's aim?
Their aim is to help students learn to thrive in diversity. They place the students in a position where collaberation is necessary to succeed. At JBU, collaberation is more of a good idea, a helpful suggestion. It is not forced upon us everyday in every class at all times, like it is as Evergreen.
How would you do in this program? How would it help develop your gifts, passions, and calling?
I do not think that I would enjoy this program. It would probably help me to develop in my ability to function in a group, but I would not like it. I don't feel like it would be a place where I could thrive.
Should we try to adopt the educational approaches here at JBU or not? Why or why not?
I feel like we have a nice balance in many of our classes of group projects and collaberative efforts. I am SO glad that we don't have to do everything in a group, like it would be there. I feel like the approach that Evergreen takes is extreme, and that JBU is a nice medium. Like Goldilocks  in the bear's house...

"It's Just Right!"

How To Train Your Dragon, Over-Evaluated

I like to analyze things. My top strength in the StrengthsQuest quiz was Input. This gift is in someone who likes to collect, categorize and share information. Although I might not have put it that way, whenever I look back on my life I can see that that observation is accurate. Whenever I enjoy, admire, or like something, I want to learn more about it and become an "expert" in that subject.
Anyway, I really like the movie How To Train Your Dragon. One day I stopped and asked myself, "Self? Why do you like that movie so much?" So I watched it again and began to analyze the themes and messages. I realized the reason I liked it: the relationships.

**SPOILER ALERT: Plot points and twists are discussed and revealed in the following blog. If you haven't seen the movie, you might not want to keep reading.**

Hiccup and Toothless: The relationship between Hiccup and Toothless is the most dynamic relationship of the movie. It begins with Hiccup deciding to not kill the dragon he captured, even though doing so would give him the one thing he wants more than anything else: to belong in his own home. The next step is accomplished by Toothless, who spares Hiccup's life after his human captor releases him. Whenever Hiccup learns that a dragon will always go for the kill, he has to ask himself, and the released dragon, "Why didn't you?". Astrid reflects this question back at Hiccup later in the movie, when she asks Hiccup why he didn't kill Toothless when he had the chance.
The turning point of the Toothless/Hiccup relationship for me was when Hiccup shows respect for Toothless by not stepping on the dragon's "drawing" in the ground. I feel that that respect grew into the love and devotion that we see later in the film. My favorite Toothless/Hiccup moment is during the slow motion sequence at the end of the fight with the huge "mother" dragon near the end of the movie. I love that as Hiccup fell into the fire, Toothless flew, his wings stretching and reaching for his friend, inviting the fire and the pain, excluding every thought except one: save Hiccup. The moment when we see that Hiccup is maimed like Toothless was an emotional one for me, because that is just one more way that they are now able to connect with each other.

Hiccup and his father: This relationship is the source of much of the conflict of the story. Hiccup can't live up to his father's expectations and his father doesn't understand the differences of his son's personality. Hiccup's loyalty to his father is refreshing. Even though Stoic is clearly in the wrong on a few occasions, Hiccup still wants to respect his father. My favorite moment is when Stoic says he was sorry for everything that happened. Hiccup doesn't respond with some snide comment, he just says he is sorry, too. Then when Stoic says that he is proud to call Hiccup his son, Hiccup is thankful. I think, in a way that doesn't take place on screen but I could see it happening off screen, Hiccup is validated as a man and a new kind of Viking because of his father's approval.

Hiccup and Astrid: Okay, first of all, I just like Astrid. I like her tough attitude and whenever she sees Toothless as Hiccup does, she is willing to adjust her misconceptions about dragons. My absolute, all-time favorite scene of the movie is when she goes to talk to Hiccup after the Vikings have left to hunt down the dragon nest. Using her influence, she inspires Hiccup to be the leader he can be. She reminds him of why he first spared Toothless. She asks him what he is going to do about his friend's captivity. She rallies the other recruits to help him. I love that scene because it is so honest and realistic. Behind every great man and his accomplishments is a woman whispering confidence into his ear. Astrid does that for Hiccup, and it makes me want to jump up and down and say "Yes! Thank you for a movie that inspires men to be great and women to help them, not because either are inferior, but because both are essential equals." I greatly appreciate this message and wish more movies would include it.

Toothless and Astrid/Stoic: I'll just briefly mention this because I feel that it's a great credit to the character and "humanness" of Toothless the dragon. With both Astrid and Stoic, he waits to befriend them until they say "I'm sorry". He shows Astrid a crazy ride, and then turns it into the best date ever after she apologizes. Toothless hides that he has managed to save Hiccup until Stoic says that he was wrong and he is sorry. I like that *thumbs up*

Gobber and Stoic: I love this totally masculine friendship between men. I am lucky enough that I grew up with a dad who had guy friends who were positive influences in his life. We get to see the workings of this kind of relationship with Gobber and Stoic. I like the honesty of their conversation early in the movie when Gobber convinces Stoic to place Hiccup in dragon training. My favorite moment of this relationship is during the final battle, when all seems hopeless and Stoic is determined to sacrifice himself for his people, and Gobber refuses to leave with the rest of the people. I love the raw strength of this relationship: two manly men willing to talk, fight, and die together. Great message, DreamWorks. I highly, very greatly, approve.

I hope that I didn't bore you with my over-analyzing tendencies. Rest assured that I did not get all of this stuff the first time I watched it. It was whenever I watched asking myself, "Why do I like this movie so much?" I feel like we see what we choose to look for. Always remember that in any place, situation, job, class, and relationship, you can find flaws. But if you choose to look for good things, you can find them. Just don't forget to look.

The Lord bless and keep you, may His face shine upon you and be gracious and give you peace. ~ Numbers 6:24-26

Easier Said Than Done

I really don't like that cliche very much: "Easier said than done". I mean, it's true, but never really very helpful, because right after you say it you still have to do what you said would be hard to do. I guess I usually prefer to just do it instead of talking about how hard it's going to be.
With that in mind, it's kind of silly that I talked so long about how hard this would be that I ran out of time to actually do it.
But there have been times in my life that I've walked up to people and joined their group! The first week of school was like this. Meals were...interesting...and usually pretty quick because there weren't many people with whom to talk. I can name three times off the top of my head that I joined people who were by themselves. Once there was a guy by himself and when I asked if he was alone, he said, "Oh no, I've got some people coming." I just said "Oh" and kept going. He said it in a brisk tone, and when I sat down with some people I had met before, I commented on his tone. I don't know if he heard me, but a few minutes later he came over and said he was sorry for his tone, he was just surprised that I had offered and didn't mean to be rude. I told him I was grateful for his apology and said that it was okay, I understood. I can't remember his name and probably wouldn't recognize his face if I saw it again. But that experience will stay with me for a long time and always challenge me to consider and reconsider other people's feelings.
There was another time I sat down with a girl I had seen on my hall a lot of times but had never met, so I sat down with her even though she was wearing headphones and looked just as happy by herself. I knew that sometimes when I do something like that, I'm testing to see if there are people friendly enough to be willing to break through a few small walls. We had a great conversation and discovered that we have a few of the same interests and similar tastes in music. We haven't really talked much since then, but I am glad to know her and to have gotten to share a meal with her.

What I learned from those experiences is that being friendly is always rewarded. Even if you don't make a new friend, you might just help make someone's day just a little bit better. And that's always a good thing.

While There's Time, There's Hope

Dreams. Living. Calling. Stop.
Wishing. Regrets. Pain. Stop.
Tears. Bruises. Scars. Stop.
But. I. Just. Can't. Stop.

I DON'T KNOW!!!

This is the third draft, the third attempt to do this blog. I have no dreams except ones that are falling apart and morphing into something else entirely. I used to think that after school I would marry my boyfriend, raise children and live happily ever after. I used to think that school would be simple and require minimal effort like high school. I thought so many things.
Now my boyfriend hasn't called me in three weeks. School is stressful, confusing, and great all at the same time. I used to have a keyboard, a place that relieved my stress anytime of day or night. Now I have a piano with a low G that sticks, a flat A, and pedals that don't work that I am only allowed to play from 10 AM to 10 PM. I used to get paid every night I worked, always having cash on hand. Now I had I to postpone a Wal-Mart trip so that I could transfer money from my savings to checking account. I used to be able to walk up to my mom or sister or boyfriend and just ask them to hold me, and they would. Now I'm starved for a real hug from a close friend in a way I never thought would be possible.
Dreams are lies! They are deceivers. They promise hope and leave you with tears and scars. They are over-rated. People waste their lives, spending time on money and money on people and people on time. It is a sick cycle that perpetuates and escalates. Then you die. And your dreams laugh as you slip away.
So how can I cling to something I cannot bring to fruition? Why chase something that can never be tamed? I am not alive when I eat and drink and make merry. I am alive in suffering and pain. Discomfort and hunger remind me of life's preciousness. It is when a man nears death that he realizes how much he loves his life. Heartache and disease makes him appreciate his health. When comfort is made an idol, it claims a new name: laziness.
I tend to be lazy. I think we all do. We like comfort. Why shouldn't we? We can afford it.
I want a life bigger than that. Of course I would prefer comfort and peace. But the cost is just too great. Jesus said that whoever does not pick up his cross and follow Him is not worthy of Him. When I picture a cross, I don't label it "comfort".
So I don't have a dream, except this: something painful. I don't need to seek suffering to find it. But whenever suffering does come, and I am up against it, I will not fear it and back down. If it is worth living for, it is worth dying for. And so long as there is time, there is hope.

Under Pressure

A driving force in many people's lives is the need to feel accepted. This need is so fundamental to the human condition that most of us aren't even aware of it most of the time.
Our peers influence us in how we look, act, and speak. (Lite speak anyone? It's short for "elite speak", which computer-savvy people use sometimes, that replaces letters with characters. A T, for instance, becomes a 7 and an S is a $. It has morphed into more common shorthand, such as "lol", "rofl", and so on.)
Our parents are an influence which more and more people, especially teenagers, attempt to resist. Studies in the sociology field reveal how single parenting, foster care, and gangs influence national family dynamics.
Teachers and coaches set expectations for performance in academic and athletic settings. They can touch lives for good, ill, or not at all.
Romantic relationships with boyfriends and girlfriends can introduce all kinds of complicated issues and problems, and often these relationships are the most powerful of any that a young person will engage in.
So many people influence our views and lives, it is difficult to know who is trustworthy, who is more than a pretty face with a silver tongue. In the search for a trustworthy friend and audience, the message of an all-powerful, always-loving God may seem too good to be true. I think that God does reach out to everyone, so that all may be saved. But I also believe that God reveals Himself to His friends. So as a student working hard to be the best and do her best, keeping an accurate view of her audiences is essential to not only being successful, but being impactful as well. I feel like remembering to perform for an Audience of One, rather than the Audience of JBU or the Audience of Family, will help prevent some downfalls in the future, such as burn-out or fear of failure and obsession with success.
College is fun, right? I can't think of a better way to ruin that fun than to get so wrapped up in our grades that we miss out on every other part of our education.

Service, Sacrifice, and Obedience

Choose one of the following prompts to respond to

1. What does Oswald Chambers mean when he says ‘The greatest competitor of devotion to Jesus is service for Him”? (39-40) What are some of the examples of ways students might allow service to Jesus to interfere with devotion to Jesus? 

 Oswald Chambers is making a point. He is saying that often when we are in pursuit of service for Christ and trying to make a difference in the world around us, we get "tunnel vision". We start to think about our own problem to the exclusion of everything else, even God's small, still voice. In our service FOR Jesus, we begin to be devoted to the work, rather than the Lord.

Students might be tempted to use Bible homework as their quiet time. We might let our schedules become so overwhelmed with Passion groups and CAUSE ministries and outreaches and church work that we neglect our personal relationship with our Lord. Suddenly we realize we haven't cracked our Bible for a non-scholarly purpose in a few weeks. In our attempts to please God with our works, we have centered our faith around our own achievements. Such a self-centered faith is a counterfeit of a real relationship with God, which is built on His goodness, and not our own.

Response to "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" Part 2

Prompt for 9-16

9/16: Miller “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” p 61-120

Select at least two of the following prompts to respond to. Please keep in mind that responses should be based on the concepts presented in the book, not just your personal definition of things like change, desire, and story.

After reading Chapter 8 (This is me, Ariel, and I think they meant to write "chapter 18", so that's what I'll go with because..well...Chapter 8 was in LAST week's reading. Typo!), tell me: what do you want? Based on Chapter 13, ambition defines all stories. What is your ambition, your pursuit?

After reading Chapter 12, reflect on change. You have changed since you came to JBU: this is inevitable, because you are adapting to new experiences, and are on a new journey. Reflect on yourself and describe how you have changed within the past month.

According to Miller, we can’t live without stories, and we all follow after some story or another. What is/are some stories that have shaped your journey?

You Are What You Eat (And You Aren't What You Don't)

If someone had asked me four months ago (graduation day) what I want out of life, I probably would have said, "A slow summer." You see, I knew at the beginning of my senior year that time was going to fly past. It seemed that all of high school had flown past to that point. Why should it slow down now? I was right. It was so fast. It was gone so quickly. Sure, there were tough times. Times when time seemed to drag. Those times are my stories that directed my journey, and sometimes altered it. Those stories lead up to what I pursue, my ambitions.

Like the time we had to do a group project where we wrote a screenplay about Jonathan, Saul's son and David's best friend. I don't like group projects. I don't like my grade, my success, being in someone else's hands. Especially when that person is a D+ student. But the deadline came and went. I didn't get the grade I had wanted and, I believed (and actually still believe) I could have earned had it been a solo project. But look! I didn't die! I even learned a valuable lesson: You are what you eat. So when I was forced to eat some humble pie, I gained some humility. Granted, it didn't taste great. It was dry and crumbly. But it taught me something I couldn't have learned about myself: sometimes other people have better ideas than I have. (I actually choked a little on that part. I survived by giving myself the Heimlich on a chair. Hey, I'm still learning the "depend on others and teach them to be dependable" thing.)

Or the other time when we prepared for almost four months for the spring Easter musical, and I played the part of the narrator and sang "Via Dolorosa" solo while Jesus (my youth pastor, who was amazing) struggled up the center aisle of the auditorium. I loved every bit of it. I loved the stage. I loved the HUGE spotlight that prevented me from getting nervous on stage because I couldn't see the crowd. I loved being good at it. Maybe that was why during the second chorus of my solo the second night, I pushed a little too hard on a high note and my voice squeaked. It was the most awful thing that could have happened to my pride. I again choked on some humble pie. But even with that, I look back on that as a highlight in my high school career. I treasure it, sometimes allowing the memories to soothe my heart.

It almost hurts to know that that was five months ago. It is hard to remember that time has moved quickly since then and it still hasn't slowed. I've been in college for three weeks. But I don't FEEL like I suppose a college student should feel. I'm not overwhelmed, a product of my desire for order and efficiency in my life. I just can't bring myself to lay something off so long that I know I will be forced to produce inferior work. (The argument could be made that that didn't stop me from procrastinating in high school, but my response that is simple: There is much more at stake now. I'm not eager to blow it. Besides, what is the 'new leaf' expression for, anyways?) I don't have an extremely active social life, but neither am I constantly bored. My dorm room is neither sloppy nor extremely neat. (My roommate and I are both lazy perfectionists: preferring order, but sometimes unwilling to put forth the effort.) But maybe that isn't mediocrity, but typicality. I suppose I don't know.

All of that background to say what I want, what I pursue: excellence in my own eyes and the eyes of others. I wish it was more spiritual, more correct. I know that I should pursue excellence in the eyes of God. The cliché, over- and oft-quoted, of "when you are beautiful in God's eyes, you will be beautiful in others', too" is neither biblical nor historical. The most beautiful people in God's eyes were hated, despised, and murdered by the world around them. "Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— the world was not worthy of them". (Hebrews 11:35-38) But knowing what you should do is not enough motivation, as Miller points out, to complete a goal. A person needs a story, something else to spur them past themselves and on to something greater. So maybe my ambition is less an ambition and more a search, a search for an epic. A search for a great story to show and tell to an audience. I've been in places where I discovered some great stories: Cuenca, Ecuador; Colby, Kansas; John Brown University. But I'm still looking for that thing, that one epic that grabs my soul and story and rips it from my white-knuckled, dead-man's grip. So my eyes are wide and searching, desiring and terrified all at the same time. I guess the only thing left is to go buy that bicycle, to cross the point of no return. To quote Jack Sparrow, "You know that feeling you get when you look over a cliff and have an urge to jump? welll....I don't have it." I suppose all that remains to be discovered is whether I will square my shoulders and take that last step over the edge.