Fitting the Mold

Molds are something that I learned about a long time ago.  So long ago that it almost seems like it was a dream.  I was taught about molds by my mother, in many different ways actually.  I was told that they were used to make pottery and ceramics.  The ceramic is poured into a mold that is made up of two pieces and then fired in a kiln to produce a very fragile, unfinished peace of pottery.  It almost feels like clay.  The piece of pottery still has to be "cleaned" because it has a line where the mold was pushed together.  Thats the thing, the mold doesn't make a perfect piece of pottery.  It still has to be fixed or cleaned in this case, and then it has to go through fire (or an extremely hot kiln).

I started thinking about this last night, after I finished venting to a friend.  I do not know a single person that feels they don't fit into "the mold" even though they are forced to try to fit into it every single day.  And boy do we try to fit into it.  I've colored my hair, I've tried different skin care products and makeup, I've tried not eating, and throwing up, I've cheated, I've stolen, I've lied, I've done EVERYTHING I can to fit into this "mold," to try to come off as the perfect person.  This person that is beautiful, smart, athletic, skinny, funny, liked by all.  This impossible, unachievable person.  Even if there is a person that fits into this mold, they are still imperfect, because molds are imperfect.  After venting to this friend he told me that he too had the same problem.  That he tried to be everything his parents wanted him to be, that he tried to fit into the impossible mold.  That he tried to be smarter, more sociable, and a better christian.  That he was trying to be the perfect person for everybody.  So heres the thing, lets say I finally figured out how to "fit the mold", I would still have have to be cleaned, the extra scraped off, and then from there I would have to walk through fire.  It's impossible.

However, the most beautiful, expensive, are rare pieces of pottery don't come from a mold.  But they are hand crafted individually, and they are made perfectly.  So my question is, who even created this mold?  Who says we have to practically kill ourselves to be something?  I guess the real question is why do we care so much?  We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  Sculpted by the greatest Artist who paints the sky every morning and night, that inspires all of the other artists.  We are unique and have such great worth in the eyes of God.  We are molded by the greatest Sculptor, who sculpted the mountains and the valleys.  We are beautiful.  And we need no mold.

Lime Chicken Tacos

We tried this for dinner tonight and it was so delicious!  It was a great alternate to the normal mundane tacos we usually eat.  Give it a try! 

Ingredients:
1 ½ lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts (cut into small pieces)
1/8 cup red wine vinegar
½ lime (juiced)
1 teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground black pepper
2 green onions (chopped)
2 garlic cloves (minced)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
10 (6 inch) flour tortillas
1 tomato (diced)
¼ cup shredded lettuce
¼ cup Monterey jack cheese
¼ cup salsa
Sour cream (optional)

Step 1: Add a little oil to the pan and sauté chicken pieces in the pan for 20 minutes over medium-high heat. Add vinegar, lime juice, sugar, salt, pepper, green onions, garlic and oregano. Simmer for another 10 minutes.
Step 2: Warm tortillas and add chicken mixture to each one evenly. Top with cheese, tomato, lettuce and salsa.
(Makes 4 servings)

credit: http://blogchef.net/lime-chicken-tacos-recipe/

Still Believe.

When did we lose hope of marrying our prince charming?  At what point did we decide that it was an unrealistic dream?  Whose words made us believe that we weren't truly princesses worthy of a prince.  Why have we stopped believing that we need rescuing from  the terrible dragon?  These were the questions I asked myself today as my 4 year cousin ran through a park screaming, saying that the dragon was going to get her and she needed to be rescued by her prince charming.  These were the questions that I faced as she ran up to me and said that the prince had saved her life and they were going to get married and live happily ever after - A child's dream.  So when did we lose sight of this fairytale?  Perhaps it was when the king, our father, left us, when our parents got a divorce.  Or maybe it was when we had our heart broken for the very first time.  Or by chance, it was when someone told we were fat, ugly, and absolutely nothing special at all.  Or it could have been when the man we thought we were going to marry was actually cheating on us.  Or perhaps it is now when we are 35 years old and have no hope of a happily ever after left.  Who really knows when we lost sight of this dream.  But the point it, we have forgotten it, left it behind as though we are too old for it.  However, the longing is still there, right?  The need to be loved by someone who will never leave, but will stand by our side for the rest of our lives, fighting our dragons.  The need to be rescued from these so called dragons.  What a beautiful longing it is.  A beautiful longing placed in us by none other than the King.  And this longing is fulfilled through Christ returning and fighting the dragon, and taking up His bride - the church.  It is also fulfilled through God's gift of marriage.  A beautiful and holy gift that we have so botched up.  We have made such a sacred act of worship into something so desecrated.  It has become nothing but empty promises and broken hearts.  However, I still believe.  I still believe in those happily ever afters.  You can see it in spouses fighting for a lasting marriage.  You can see it in couples celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary, still as happy and in love as the day they were wed.  You can see it in the 80 year old husband helping his wife plant her flowers, the twinkle in his eye as he playfully throws a clump of dirt at her.  It is still there.  The fairytale still exists.  So here I stand, waiting.  Not giving into what seems easy or convenient, but waiting for my prince charming.  Not kissing toads hoping they will turn into a prince, but instead knowing that he will come wether it is riding up on his white stead, or walking through the door into the caf.  Who knows?  All I know, is I'm not giving in.  Maybe its foolishness, but I still choose to believe in fairytales.

So cute. 

Ransomed

I’m lonely.  I’m insecure. 

But Your love alone brings the cure. 

You bring me freedom.  You bring me life.

No longer do I have to worry about this strife.

I may not feel good enough, and I know that I’m not.

But recently if there’s one thing you taught, 

It’s that when I fall short

There’s no need for retort.

You fill me up.  You make me whole.

You bring fulfillment to my soul.

My past is gone, there’s no looking back

I no longer have to carry this burden, this pack

You have paid the ransom

And at your feet I will come.

I will lay down my exis-tence

I will no longer ride the fence

You payed the price

Even when I roll the dice

Sometimes I take my chances

When the things of this world put me in trances.

And I’m done with all that

For Your love is greater than what I’ve valued it at

A price too high for me to pay 

But then again you didn’t even give me a say

You paid before I even knew the cost

You paid before I even realized what I’d lost

Or what I gained

You sweet sweet love on me rained

You showed me that I can never live this life alone

That I no longer in my grave have to groan

You showed me that there is hope

That I no longer have to try to climb up that never-ending slope

I would never have made it to the top anyway

Heck, I’d never even make it halfway

But by your power

I don’t have to cower

I don’t have to be afraid

Because every single day you come to my aid

You conquered over death and dying

So I know longer in my grave have to be lying.

Out of my heart you took the knife.

Through Your love, You gave me life. 

Pesto Pasta

I am home from school and loving the time away from studying.  One thing that I hate about college is the fact that you can't cook.  Well, you can, but it is so difficult to do.  But, since I am home, I have been dong some cooking and baking.  Here is a recipe that I found for pesto, and it was delicious! I changed it a bit, so I've put my version of it on here.  bon appetite!

Ingredients

• 1 pound dried linguini
• 1 bunch basil leaves (about 2.5 ounces)
• 1/2 cup pine nuts
• 1/2 cup of parmesan cheese
• 2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice (about 1/2 of a lemon)
• 3 garlic cloves
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• Salt, to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

• In a large pot, bring water to a boil. Add the pasta and cook to package directions. 
• While the pasta cooks, create the pesto by blending the basil, pine nuts, avocados, lemon juice, garlic, and olive oil in a food processor. Season with the salt and pepper.
• Drain the pasta. 
• In a large serving bowl, toss the pesto with hot, freshly cooked pasta.

I am 19 years old.  I have struggled with eating disorders since I was 15.  I am sick and tired of it.  I thought I had it all figured out and I was done with it.  But every time you comment on my weight, or you say I'm eating unhealthy, or you talk about me gaining weight, you make me spiral backwards.  You make me think maybe I just shouldn't eat anything at all, then I don't have to worry about wether or not it's healthy.  You make me think that I will never be good enough for you.  You make me realize how ugly and fat I am.  So please, stop talking about food and weight and exercise and whats healthy and whats not healthy.  Please just be quite.  The voices in my head that are already telling me all that are enough, I don't need yours to add to the constant degradation.

It's Poetry Time Ya'll!

So y'all should know by now that I love me some poetry. So rock out! I apologize for the bad word at the beginning   If you want to skip it you will only miss the first line of the poem.  Just skip to 0:32.

My Momma

Its a little cheesy, but it's mothers day.  I love you momma!

So many things to say,

With so little words coming to my mind.

One day 19 years ago,

You became my mom and for that I love you so.

You shaped me and molded me,

That one day the Lord might I see.

I thank you so much for your love.

For your never ending dedication.

You truly are a Godsend.  

You stayed by my side even when I didn’t want you

You showered me with love and gifts all so new

You picked me up when I fell

You brushed of the dust and one thing you would tell:

That I am big and strong no tears need I cry

Just one more time do I need to try

You pushed me to be all that I could

You wanted the best for me, 

And for that I would

I want to please you

To make you smile

Even though we are separated by many more that a mile

Thanks for everything

Thanks for all you do

Thanks for loving me too

You are an incredible mother

I would never wish for another

You are so beautiful and strong

It seems as if you never do anything wrong

I pray one day I will be half the momma that you are 

That one day I might hit that par

I love you momma

Thanks once more

For helping me spread my wings and soar.  

Something I stumbled upon

Look at you. You’re young. And you’re scared. Why are you so scared? Stop being paralyzed. Stop swallowing your words. Stop caring what other people think. Wear what you want. Say what you want. Listen to the music you want to listen to. Play it loud as you want and dance to it. Go out for a drive at midnight and forget that you have school the next day. Stop waiting for Friday. Live now. Do it now. Take risks. Tell secrets. This life is yours. When are you going to realize that you can do whatever you want?

Selfless Surrender

I can't do it.  This is what I realized tonight as I sat in the pew with many of my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ surrounding me.  Everyone was crying as they realized once again the power of Good Friday, maybe it was the amount of disgusting sin they had commited over the last year, maybe it was the fact that Jesus died a brutal death so that they could drive thier luxury vehicle and live in thier $500,000 house, or maybe they finally realized that it was time to fully surrender and they were in the midst of doing just that.  But as I sat there with tears rolling softly down my cheeks, I realized that I couldn't and can't surrender everything, not all of it.  I'm fine giving Christ parts of my life, but there are still things that I know I'm not ready to give up.  Because giving them up means losing control of them, of everything.  It means that I will no longer be able to hide behind them.  It means that all of the stupid, disgusting, embarrassing things that I've done will be out on the table.  As quickly as the realization came to me, so did the nausea.  I wanted to bolt out of that church into the cool fresh air...or maybe the bathroom.  Either way, I did not want to get sick in front of everyone.  I don't know exactly what it was that made me sick, but I didn't like it.  It could have been the fact that I have been living my life half-heartedly.  It could have been the fact that I had no idea what to do after realizing that I haven't completely surrendered.  I could have been the fact that I don't know how to completely surrender.  Or perhaps it's the fact that even though I say that someday I want to fully surrender, there is that thought in the back of my head that says I won't.  Or maybe it's the fact that I'm afraid that I never will truly, fully surrender.  I don't know, but I felt so sick.  And as I was sitting there, wanting to be anywhere, but in that church, I realized that surrender doesn't happen once.  It happens every morning when I wake up.  It happens every time I want to do something I know is wrong, but instead I say no.  It happens every single minute of my life.  I will always be continually surrendering.  Even then, I know that I haven't surrendered everything.  I might be surrendering constantly, but I'm not surrendering all.  Maybe one day, I will.  And I am sure that will be a beautiful day.


Some song lyrics on my mind:

"I wanna yearn for You."

"Lead me to the cross, bring me to my knees, Lord I lay me down.  Rid my of myself I belong to You." 

Fears

Fears are a funny thing.  They can be classified into so many different categories.  I found myself thinking about them last night when I was walking back to the dorm late at night.  I kept looking back over my shoulder, because I was fearful that someone was following me.  And that's when I realized how many fears I truly have.  I am terrified of the dark, and one of my biggest fears is that the power will go out.  I am afraid of the future and not knowing what is to come.  I am afraid of geting raped.  I am afraid that one day I will run away and not have the strength to come back.  I am afraid that I will say the wrong thing.  I am afraid that I will find a dead body.  I am afraid that I will be touched on the back of my knees.  :)


But my biggest fear is that I will never be good enough.  I wake up every morning, with the fear that I will go through the day and disappoint everyone.  I am so careful as to what I say and how I act, because I don't want to be rejected, and I am so fearful that the slightest wrong word or action wil send me in a downward spiral and I will be hated.  Every night that I go to bed, I lay there and think of all of the stuff that I did wrong or said wrong, and how maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut, that people would like me more.  Francis Chan, the author of Crazy Love writes about how being fearful is not trusting that God has everything in control.  And maybe the core problem is that I don't know how to trust, to trust friends, to trust family, to trust God.  I pray that this fear of not being good enough isn't a problem that I have to deal with everyday, but at this point in time it still is.  Maybe one day I will be able to wake up and not feel bonded by my fears, but I will be able to go through my day, not being so conscious about everything that I am doing. Maybe one day I will no longer feel these chains around my wrists.  Maybe, one day.

Looking Back

Today ended up being a cold, dreary day.  A day that I looked back instead of forward.  A day where everything that I have been running from finally caught up with me.  My momma would always say that no matter what happens in our lives, God is going to use us, and through our pain, we will be able to help other people.  And, I've always known that to be true, and I've even put it into practice.  But for some reason the fact that I finally opened up to someone at college about some of the stuff that I have struggled with has made this day really difficult.  I am so thankful that I was able to talk with someone here about that stuff, because I have recently been longing for that intimacy and closeness with a friend, and for someone who understands.  However, after opening up to her, I have dwelled on the past all day long.  I have dwelled on how completely awful it was, on how much I wanted to die, on how much I hated myself, my family, everything.  I am nothing.  I am hated.  I am ugly.  I am fat.  Nobody likes me.  I am unworthy of being loved.  Everything would be better for everyone if I was dead.  Those were the lies that I listened to everyday.  The lies that made me suicidal and anorexic.  The lies that so many girls struggle with.  But the truth is that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  That there is not one imperfection in the way that I was created.  I was made exactly the way that I was supposed to be.  And I am loved every single day by the God of the universe.  I know that none of this battle is over, and that I will continually fight it every single day for the rest of my life.  I will have to make the decision every morning to serve God, instead of serving the lies that say I am not good enough.