Sassy But Classy

The ICE GAME

2008-06-28T13:07:00.004-05:00

Well, it is official. I have ended my writing hiatus.

So much is going on right now. Not only have I finished my school for the summer, but I have also finished my first year in youth ministry. Since I have become a full-fledged youth minister, I thought it only fitting to reveal one of my flaws to my readers. Don't judge me.

We have started a new tradition in the SW youth group at Camp Impact at good ole' Lipscomb University. I am not exaggerating when I tell you the food at Lipscomb is questionable. The cafeteria's strength, however, is the famous ice cream line. No lie, there are always 40-50 people in line at every meal for ice cream. It's irresistable.

Anyways, this started with the junior high. Some of the junior high boys, Andy the intern, and I would always be in line together. We quickly realized we needed something to pass the time and to wake us up. I now introduce to you the "ICE GAME." It's really simple. You can do it anywhere for that matter.

You simply throw a couple of pieces of ice on the tile floor and then watch people fall. Quite humorous. Thankfully, nobody broke bones. I think once we reach that point, it is no longer FUNNY because I will soon be FIRED!

I LOVE my job!

My New Love

2008-05-03T19:25:00.004-05:00

I'm in love with Patrick Dempsey.

The end.

Lost the Touch

2008-04-21T07:31:00.003-05:00

Friday=day off. However, somewhere in the past year, I thought it would be a grand idea to substitute teach on Fridays. That way, I would still stay relevant with the teaching and education world. This notion was fine and dandy until this past Friday. I now know why I am a minister, and not teaching anymore. I simply lost my touch.

I was supposed to be at the school at 11:30. (You should know that usually they call you in 10-15 minutes early so you can find the room, get settled in, etc.). This school is under construction so there was NO parking spots. I ended up parking in the back of the school, walking 1/2 mile to the front office. No big deal, right? Except it was raining. And, I didn't have an umbrella. It's going to be a great day.

It is about 11:33 when I am signing in. The office is buzzed, and a frazzled teacher is on the intercom asking if there is a sub for 1st grade. The secretary told her that I just came and will be there shortly. The PTA President decides to walk me down to my classroom. She also manages to talk to two different people--forgetting where she was taking me. As soon as I walked in, the class erupted in applause. I felt like I was straight out of a movie. "Ms. Jackson, you so pretty. Ms. Jackson, I like your necklace. Ms. Jackson, where you get your dress?" I forgot I was spending my afternoon with 1st graders.

After I passed out math worksheets, a little boy came to my desk, full of tears in his eyes. "Ms. Jackson (wimper, wimper) Bruce be talkin' bout' my momma and her panties! (sniff, sniff)" My response? "Bruce, go pull a stick. We are not talkin about anybody's mommas or their panties." The afternoon went by pretty fast. However, there were probably 10-15 sticks pulled. I am now in the "most hated" sub category.

The end of my day was the clincher, however. We were supposed to end our day by going to the computer lab. But, since the 20 tiny first graders could not line up, zip their lips, and keep their hands to themselves, I decided we would not go to the computer lab. That decision then made 3 of them cry as if they just found out their puppy dog just died. Other children then began to laugh and taunt the three crybabies. In the background, one ornery boy drew a frowny face on the board and started putting all of the good kids names under the bad list. He then tried to clean the board, accidentally spraying himself in the eyes. He then begins to scream and cry. I feel sympathy for his crying, however. He is legit. At this point, I really feel like I am 1) at a zoo or 2) at a circus.

Looking at the note left by the teacher, she said school would be dismissed at 2:50. I look at my watch. 2:51. "Please, oh please, call them, and let me go home." 2:53. "What am I going to do tonight?" 2:55. "I really think they should be gone now." 2:57. I decide to ask the most responsible student (seriously, what was I thinking??? They are 6 years old!) if there is a bell, or an announcement, or the teacher just dismisses them. She told me the teacher just dismisses them. Then, she looked at my watch, saw it was 3:01, put her hands on her cheeks, and screamed "WE ARE ALL GOING TO MISS THE BUS!!!!" Don't you worry. I was just as scared and worried as they were. I told them to "run, kids, run like you've never run before. . ." 3:03. Announcement comes on to dismiss the bus kids.

I officially suck at teaching. I've lost the touch.

Two Hands

2008-04-12T16:55:00.003-05:00

My, oh my. Where do I begin?

It's been a month and so much has happened (Believe it or not, I do live an exciting life. Thank you very much for your skepticism).

For one thing, I have started running every day. Although if you were driving by, you would probably laugh at me as it could easily be compared to a senior citizen whizzing by in her mobilized wheelchair. Either way, I'm up to 22 1/2 minutes. Don't judge me.

On another hand, I have started my Masters' courses. It's funny how I wanted one thing in life, got it, and now I want it to go away. A year ago I was so excited to be done with school--ready to rid myself of studying, writing papers, doing projects, reading. It wasn't but a few months later I started getting all nostalgic again. Call me crazy, but I wanted to study again. The journey began. I just now finished a 469 page book with words in it that I don't even know how to pronounce. You don't have to call me crazy. I call myself that now.

Since I only have two hands, that is all you get for today. Maybe more later.

Boots, Poles, and A LOT of Laughs

2008-03-15T21:02:00.002-05:00

Things I Loved About Last Week

Colorado
Snowboarders
Watching people fall. . . especially newby skiiers
Jared from Subway
Catching up on season 3 of Lost
Reading Jesus for President and Room of Marvels
God's vast beauty surrounding me
Driving a tahoe
Relaxing and chillaxing for a week
Hearing other people's life stories
Listening to Britt Nicole on the slopes

In case you don't know or in case you even care, I went skiing last week with some of our guys from the youth group. Hold me to this. After this whole youth ministry kick, I think I shall move to Colorado. I mean, seriously. How much closer can you be to God and His divine beauty?

P.S. I also added another "must have" for my future husband: Must ski once a year. . . the end.

The Mission

2008-02-23T08:18:00.004-06:00

As you well know, I am, in fact, a youth minister. I prefer the word "pastor", but I will work with you. Last weekend I journeyed with 60 other teens/adults from our church to Gatlinburg, Tennessee for the largest CofC gathering in the world. Can I just tell you that despite my sickness, I enjoyed it very much. In fact, it was just one small reminder of why I am here in Jonesboro doing what I am doing.

Four of our teens have been/or will be baptized.
I got to spend quality time with our teenagers through games like Sting Pong and movies like Hairspray.
Being in the mountains was a strong reminder of God's beauty.
Meeting up with best friends like Betsy is always a bonus to my weekend.
Hearing and being challenged to live out the Mission for my life, not just my teens.
Listening to the incredible story of Marilyn Laszlo (spent 24 years of her life translating a New Testament into the language of a remote tribe in Papa New Guinea. See link: http://www.laszlomissionleague.com/
Playing the movie game for hours upon hours. Did you know that Hillary Clinton is a pretty famous actress? (So says my 7th grade boys). Haha!
Watching someone who has never been exposed to any type of church, crave and hunger for the Bible. Puts me to shame, honestly. But, at the same time, gives me so much joy to watch this teenager desire something meaningful.
Forcing my 7th grade girls to go take a picture with the oddly, dressed man. I can promise you that I did not realize he was smoking. I'm so sorry girls!

Church is just one big dysfunctional family, amen? And this is why I love what I do. I would not trade it for anything else right now.

Ups and Downs of Life

2008-02-14T20:05:00.003-06:00

So I have strep. Awesome. Get it about once a year. However, this is the first time I have had it without having my mom to take care of me. Let's just sum it up in one word. AWFUL!

However, something that made me feel better and was the best present I got on Valentine's Day was something my little seven year old boy (not mine, the one I watch every week) said to me. He pulled me aside at the office, whispered in my ear very seriously,

"Ms. Abbey, I think I want you in my family now."

Seriously, does life get better than this?

The Pink Shocks

2008-02-03T12:42:00.000-06:00

This summer I spent three weeks in Ghana, Africa. It changed my life, and the way I view Christianity today. While working (manual labor, yes) I got to know one of the construction workers who was helping make bricks. His name was Justice. He had the biggest smile you will ever see and would play all kinds of jokes on us. He liked to talk to Rachel and me. We all became buds. I have been reading over my Africa journal, and this entry striked me today:

"I wore my PINK Nike Shocks today. Justice immediately noticed and asked me if he could have them. I was planning on giving it to a girl who had size 8, so this caught me a bit off guard. He assurred me they would fit. More than that, I saw that twinkle of joy in his eyes. Whereas I see them as just a pair of shoes, he sees them as a treasure. Lord, will you begin to create in me a generous heart? It's about others, not about me. Make me believe this."

Justice didn't care that the shoes didn't fit. He didn't care that they were pink. He didn't care that they were old. He just wanted to feel loved, if that meant getting a pair of women's pink shoes. Isn't that, in truth, what we all crave and desire? We just want to be loved. It's as simple as that. We want to feel valuable, worthy, and loved.

Go genuinely love someone today.

Swing your tie round your head like a helicopter. . .

2008-01-30T07:40:00.000-06:00

So last night I journeyed through the "dangerous" weather (windspeeds reaching up to 60mph. However, being an Oklahoma native, three words: no big deal) to Rector to watch CRA play some basketball. Little did I know I was not only watching an intense game, but also an insane coach. He was a toss up between one of those wind-up toys that wobbled like a duck and Mr. Potato Head. Let's just say that his fans did not stand up and cheer once--I think it was because he yelled enough for hundreds of people. He was entertaining to watch throughout the game. . . however, it wasn't until he started marching over to the ref, taking off his tie, swinging it over his head, and if my lipreading skills are still fresh. . . saying a few choice words. No technical, just an Oscar.

On one part, I laugh. A lot. But on a more serious note, I cringe. I sure hope these basketball players go home after losing a game, getting yelled out 3 milimeters from their face, and feeling like a failure to parents who love them, support them, and tell them they are so valuable and loved. This week has been a week for me to be overly critical of myself. And I remember my teenage years, how easy it was to feel like a failure or insecure about myself.

The David Crowder band just released a new cd a few months ago. Here are lyrics I want people to believe:

"You make everything glorious, you make everything glorious, you make everything glorious, AND I am Yours. So what does that make me?"

Soak it in today.

The Church Giggles

2008-01-28T08:35:00.000-06:00

Being young is so fun. Remember those days whenever you wore bows bigger than your hair itself, or you had spelling words like "hat", or the biggest problem in your life was that your little brother got to ride shotgun. It's so good to think back on my childhood. It puts me in this happy utopia where I felt untouchable. I think the best part of growing up at church was most definitely the notes I wrote during the sermons (sorry Mr. Ronnie). I remember sitting with my friends once I reached the teenage years, and laughing nonstop. The "Church Giggles" might you.

Well, it has been a long time since I got those giggles. The last time I could remember was when I was a junior in college. I was sitting up in the balcony at my 3,000 plus church and the oldest man at our church said the opening prayer. He prayed for all of the sick (which was A LOT), name by name. I'm not exaggerating. . . it was pushing 8 minutes. AFter he said every name, he said "And Heavenly FAther. . . Gracious God. . . please restore these people back to HELL". I think he meant health. . . it just did not transfer over. Sometimes all you can do is laugh. There shall be more to this later.

Oh, and P.S. thank you Andrew for giving my blog a makeover. Are you going to put on there somewhere that I put the sass in your Sunday School Class? Deuces!

Dedressed on the Dance Floor

2007-12-01T16:19:00.000-06:00

Last night I had some great girls over to my apartment for dinner (yes Mom, I cooked, and it wasn't black. . .). I ended up telling them this story and for some reason, I thought I wanted to share it with you.

Junior Year. My first prom. Big high school. Sweet date. Beautiful/expensive dress.

Went upstairs to take formal pictures. Had a great time plastering on my smile for the different takes. Began the trek down. . . on the escalator.

The escalator would then take you to the dance floor. It was like a movie. As soon as you stepped off the last moving step, you were on the dance floor. Cinderella story, right?

Well, except for one small problem. About halfway down the escalator, I realized my dress had somehow amazingly gotten caught inside the escalator. Not stressing out too much, I tried to get my date's attention. (I don't really know what good he would have done. . . it just seemed logical at the time.). Once that did not work, I began literally FREAKING out. I was about to be dedressed in front of my whole school. And let's just say, if that would have happened, I would for sure be "known" by everyone at school. My life was about to be over. I was gathering the transcript papers in my head. My reputation of modesty was about to be completely thrown out the window. In about the last three crucial seconds before the end of my life, I gave it all I got and ripped my dress out of the escalator. To my surprise, it worked! However, I now had a dress that was half sequins and half grease. Awesome.

You know the worst part? Some friends of mine came up to me and said, "Hey Abbey! Did you hear about the girl whose dress got stuck in the escalator???" I threw back my head, laughed a little, and asked them who it was.

Expect the unexpected.

Comfortable or Radical?

2007-10-25T10:10:00.000-05:00

Am I too comfortable? Are we, as a body of Christ-followers, too comfortable? These are the two questions I have been struggling with for the last couple of days. Maybe it is because I read "Irresistable REvolution" (which I highly recommend). Or maybe it is because I went to Africa and experienced a way of life that has nothing to do with everything I once thought mattered. Or maybe it is because I have been hanging out in Country Garden Apartments this week. Or maybe God is trying to tell me something. . .

Truth be told, it could very well be a combination of all of these factors. What I do know for certain is that I am being convicted about this for a reason. I believe wholeheartedly that we, as Christ-followers, are to live uncomfortable lives. We are to be bold. Daring. Courageous. Not stupid. But, radical. Was not Jesus Christ himself not a radical human being? I believe that we are to take a stand, do the unimaginative, and literally take a leap of faith. My church just went through a series called "Walk Across the Room." I do believe this is the stepping stone for us to begin to live radical lives. Hopefully, we all will see a glimpse of Jesus in every person that we encounter, see a glimpse of Jesus in them, and then simply love them. Regardless of who they are, what they look like, whether they are the same as us or different, it is time we start being the hands and feet of Jesus. We must drive out our fear. It will only fester and Satan will continue to use it as his playground. We must be different. We must be courageous. We must be radical.

Beauty and Puberty???

2007-10-22T10:39:00.000-05:00

This weekend I got to spend some quality time with some of our junior high students. We had our junior high retreat in Casscoe, Arkansas where we played football, ate a lot of great food, learned more about fanning our spiritual flames, and kickin' it with the boys in Texas hold'em. There were only 14 teens, but it was completely worth it. One of the things that continues to amaze me in my ministry is the fact that everyone has a story. Everyone has hurts. Problems. Troubles. It's so humbling to me to get the opportunity to have a glimpse of someone's life. I truly cherish deep conversations with people--I believe it is the beauty of God himself. People absolutely fascinate me. We are created in His image. Wow. Now that speaks mountains of beauty.

I must also confess that I was probably the worst youth minister ever. On Friday night, we did a group icebreaker where everyone talked. When it got to little "Johnny", his voice suddenly changed. Mind you, it wasn't just a crack in his voice. It was at least three octaves higher than his normal voice. I thought he was making fun of someone else or just being silly. So, as he proceeds to tell his story, his voice is still at a good high C pitch. It never once returns to normal. Thinking he was doing this on purpose, I was uncontrollably laughing. In fact, my stomach hurt I laughed so much. Come to find out, he wasn't faking it. Just another junior high boy victimized to puberty. I should quit.

Duck Calling?!?!?!

2007-10-19T13:26:00.000-05:00

What the heck is "duck calling?"

Truth beknown that I am a city girl. I was born in the city, grew up in the city, and love the city life. The only country life I knew was when we visited my grandparents in Claremore, Oklahoma. Even then, it was not the REAL country. Since I have been living in Arkansas, I feel as though I have finally had the joy of experiencing the REAL country.

You see, I now know what the phrase "duck calling" means. Apparently, it means you have a small wooden whistle and you blow it to get ducks to fly over your head, and then you shoot the ducks. Invigorating, eh? But, did you know that there is a world duck calling championship? It is considered an art and just happens to be found in the grand ole' state of Arkansas.

Just in case you are a city girl/boy like me (not that I am a boy slash girl, but a city slash human being) you probably envisioned duck calling like me. This is what I thought it was. . .

The duck callers stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder. There are about twenty ducks involved. AS soon as the judge throws the flag, you immediately begin shouting "Here ducky, ducky. Waddle, waddle, waddle. Come to momma ducky!" I even thought that if you, yourself, waddled like a duck, that would make the ducks come to you quicker. Who knew, right?

I have a feeling this won't be the only "country" thing about my life in J-town. . .

A Slap in the Face

2007-10-16T22:35:00.000-05:00

You ever have those times in your everyday life that you feel as though God just reaches down, slaps you in the face just to try to get your attention? Well, if you haven't had one of those, I pray you experience one soon.

Being in ministry is much harder than it may seem. Actually, becoming an "adult" is much harder than it may seem as well. There have been days where I wish I could just snap my fingers, and "poof", be back at OC with all of the things I absolutely love. However, if so, how would I be stretched? How do I grow if I'm comfortable??

Without realizing it, the last couple of weeks I began to tune out my Father's voice, and trade it in for others. Whether it were critical comments or prideful praises, I began to listen and believe what others said to me and about me. I began to ignore the voice of the most important person--my God. How ironic was it that the person that cares about me the most is the one I chose to ignore? It wasn't until Sunday morning during church when I realized this inconsistency in my life. We sang "When the Night is Falling"--one of my youth group camp songs. The lyrics to the chorus are. . .

"How I love you, child, I love you. How I love you, child, I love you. How I love you."

It was at this moment that I realized I was hushing out my Father's voice--I was rejecting his promises to me. Instead of believing the one who created me, I began to believe others. I was letting the words that others spoke, define who I was. How ashamed I am that I chose to ignore the voice of my God. I pray that you and I both will continue to open our ears and feel the love of our Father.

How I love you, child, I love you. How I love you, child, I love you. How I love you. . .

Be Jealous. . .

2007-10-11T12:16:00.001-05:00

Jammin' on my way to Nashville. . . be jealous. . .

Hot Springs. . . more like Hot Flashes. . .

2007-10-09T09:13:00.000-05:00

I would be at a great loss if I didn't write about my weekend to Hot Springs. Just when I thought I had finally gotten the rhythm of Arkansas down, I was completely mistaken.

This weekend I went to Hot Springs, Arkansas with four girls my age. Now, this is a "bath" town. Translation: A tourist town where they get paid by giving you baths. Now this is not a totally foreign concept or experience for me. When I was in Japan, they have "onsens." The only difference is that they give you a hand towel and that the bath houses are co-ed. Awesome. In Honduras, they don't hold anything back. . . literally. Good ole' Hot Springs? Well, let's just say I truly thought I had tasted death, and yet, at the same time, I was "annointed." You see, there is this one part of the "bath experience" where they lock you in this metal box. Your head is the only part that is visible and sticks out. Let's just say I felt like I was about to get my head chopped off by a guillotine. I don't recall what this was actually called, but I like to call it "Sweat to Death." It is ridiculously hot so that you will sweat all of your impurities away. The attendants are supposed to leave you in the head chopper for only five minutes. But, no, no, my friends. It was anything but that. Believe me, I sweated all my impurities away alright. I started praying that I would just die a quick, painless death. Never before have I seriously thought I was going to die. Thank you, Hot Springs.
Thank you for letting me get a glimpse of death.

My "experience" ended on a much different and unexpected note. I got a twenty minute massage. Now you must know that I really, really, like massages. A lot. I do not like, however, people talking to me while I'm getting a massage. (That is why the massages in Honduras are ideal. . . all you say is "no comprendo" in a thick, Southern accent and it is pure bliss). My attendant reminded me of Oprah. Seriously, she wanted to know everything about me. Once she found out I was a minister, I knew it was over. After asking me if I was allowed to date and other ridiculous questions, I could not help but laugh. But, the kicker was at the end. When she was done, she told me that she felt so blessed to be able to massage one of God's annointed. Wow. Speechless. All I did was smile, and say well, God bless you too.

Hot Springs, you simply intrigue me.

The Nun Spoke

2007-10-05T11:54:00.000-05:00

For the past 8 weeks, I have been taking conversational Spanish classes at the Hispanic Center. (I think I had withdrawls from school, so I sought out anything that resembled school, but that also did not include the word "grad" in it). There are three loyal students, and a Sister from the convent as our teacher.

"Mark" is probably the most advanced student. He goes to Columbia every year with his church and does medical missions. He is a nurse here in town and is absolutely brilliant. It is neat to watch him relate to other people because he genuinely listens and has a passion for people.

"Daniel" scared me at first. However, after the class, he is a pretty cool guy. His grandmother lives in Mexico and his grandparents speak fluent Spanish. That being said, it is obvious that "Daniel" has a natural tongue for Spanish. I secretly envy him and his perfect pronounciation.

"Kyle" makes me laugh. He really isn't that good with Spanish, but he tries very hard. He has determination, and he never gives up. He just got married a few weeks ago, and is so joyful. I wish I was more like "Kyle."

Sister is great. Although she will sometimes go off on tangents during her stories, she is incredibly fascinating. She is much more interesting that Whoopi in Sister Act.

Today, our last class session, Sister said something that slapped me in my face. "You can love without mercy, but you can't show mercy without love." Wow. I don't know if she realized the impact she had on me, but I literally could not speak Spanish for the next ten minutes because I was analyzing this quote. And I really do agree with her. Love and mercy are not the same thing. You can, indeed, love without showing mercy, but authentic love does show mercy. Not only did she give me a new quote, but she caused me to yearn for other ways to show both love and mercy in my everyday life. I really have enjoyed being around people that I don't work with on a daily basis--or frankly, go to church with me. I like the mystery of interacting with people who I do not know, who aren't like me, and let me simply be me.

Remedy

2007-10-03T11:59:00.001-05:00

Broken and beautiful. That I am.

I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I have decided to start an online journal. Already, my life has drastically changed in a course of four short months.

New town. New job. New church. New friends. New people. New dreams. New life.

"Remedy of love" is my title because I am inspired by the following lyrics from David Crowder Band's new cd. I hope you are too.

here we are
here we are
the broken and used
mistreated abused
here we are

here you are
here you are
the beautiful one
who came like a sun
here you are

so we lift up our voices
and open our hands
to cling to a love that we can't comprehend

o lift up your voices
and lift up your hands
to sing of the love that has freed us from sin

he is the one who has saved us
he is the one who embraced us
he is the one who has come and is coming again
he's the remedy

here we are
here we are
bandaged and bruised
awaiting a cure
here we are

here you are
here you are
our beautiful king
bringing relief
here you are with us

so we lift up our voices
and open our hands
let go of the things that have kept us from him

he is the one who has saved us
he is the one who forgave us
he is the one who has come and is coming again
he's the remedy

oh i can't comprehend
i can't take it all in
never understand such perfect love
come for the broken and beat
for the wounded and weak
oh come fall at his fee
the's the remedy
he's the remedy

he is the one who has saved us
he is the one who forgave us
he is the one who has come and is coming again
he's the remedy
he's the remedy
oh he's the remedy

you are the one who has saved us
you are the one who forgave us
you are the one who has come and is coming again
You're the one who has come and you're coming again
You're the one who has come and is coming again
to make it all right
you're the remedy

you're in us
you're the remedy
you're in us
you're the remedy

let us be the remedy
let us bring the remedy