There’s this song by Sugarland called “All I Wanna Do.” The music video is shot in Hawai’i.  It is 21degrees outside and it snowed today.  I just wanted the music video and it made me miss Hawai’i oh so much.  I decided to post some pictures just to remind myself why it is amazing.  Between the landscape, the scenery, the flora, the views, the volcanoes, and espcially, the people.  It is the people I miss the most

ALOOOOHA!

Those of you who are faithful followers of my blog, will know that the reason I started this whole thing was to document my student teaching experience in Ireland, beginning with the application process.  You may also remember that, according to my blog, I was supposed to know whether or not I was going in September.  You’ll also notice that after an entry titled While I’ve Still Got Time to Have Them any mention of Ireland fell by the wayside.

Well that entry, dated September 28th, was meant to be the night before I found out.  And then that dragged on for a week, then another, until all Ireland applicants received an email stating that there were only 5 spots open, and 11 applicants.  The Assistant Dean (who runs the program) asked if we could all please meet to figure out the next step.  Well, it seemed to me that they should be able to narrow us down by our applications, but I was not going to complain, so I left my internship early the next day to be back in Boone in time to make the meeting.

Waiting outside her office door was slightly awkward.  Six of the applicants showed up and so there was the cloud hanging over that one or more of us would not be going on this trip.  The ast. dean shows up 15 minutes late, and we all pile into her office and she begins by saying, “You are all qualified and I would like to be able to place all of you, but it is not going to happen.  Therefore, since you didn’t realize how competitive this was going to be when you wrote your original application questions, I want you to tell me how you think we should narrow this down.”–wait a minute, you’re a big girl, shouldn’t you be able to narrow this down? Of course she should, but that’s no matter. And might I add, that yes, I did write my original essay as though it were a competitive process, thank you very much.  Most of the girls aren’t saying anything, so one girl pipes up with something, and again, there is silence.  Well, I’m not going to sit in silence, I’m going to say something that benefits me.  Know that most of (if not all of) these girls are elementary education majors and will not get nearly as much out of the trip as I would (what could be better than studying Irish and English history, my area of specialty, in the place where it happened and with a different world view?!), I say, “Well, I think you should take into account how this trip will be beneficial to us and what we are going to get out of this experience.”  No one else says anything.  So those are our two new criteria.  We leave with the impression that we are to write something about these two new issues and that we will have an interview eventually, wait for an email.  This meeting was October 24th.

A week passed, she hadn’t sent out an email with official questions, nor had she set up interview dates.  I decided I would go ahead and send her my interpretation of the questions, and I signed the email, “Looking forward to our interview!” And I waited.  I heard nothing from her, no confirmation she had received my email and still nothing official.  Still no interview. Another week dragged on. She was never in her office. Then another week and another, and still no word and I was tired of waiting.  I sent an email, as politely as I could, asking if she would please let me know what was going on.  That was what was driving me crazy the most.  I had no clue if I was missing the emails because of Span Blocker, if she had forgotten about us entirely, if she had made her decision, I did not know and I felt left in the dark.  I was fine with waiting, if only I knew what I was waiting for.  I attached a read-receipt to that email. I never got it back, I never got a response.

FINALLY, yesterday, she sent out a mass email to the Ireland applicants:

“Hello,
I wanted to give you an update on Ireland.  We are attempting to secure
placements for each of you if you are still interested.
Please keep in mind that I’m still not at all sure that we will be able
to place all of you, and I am fairly certain that we will not have any
final information before the end of January and perhaps not then.
So, if you are one of those students who can flow with this, then you
will feel all right about the process.  If you are one who needs to plan
your life right now and be sure about it, then you need to come to see
me immediately.
I’m still asking the question about whether any of you would like to
consider Mexico or Costa Rica.  Let me know as soon as possible.”

Ah Ha! Well this email came across to me as, “leave me alone, get out of my hair, I’m working on it.” And that is FINE with me, but at least we know now that she isn’t sitting on her hands doing nothing.

And so, dear friends, there is still a good chance I may be going to Ireland.  I don’t know yet and I won’t know for a long time, it would seem.  But please continue to keep me in your prayers and pray that everything will work out.  My heart wants this so much and I know that I am meant to be there.  I’m still seeking, still longing.  It is coming. . .

We found out yesterday that my aunt and uncle are going to have a little baby boy!!!!! Can I just be the first to say

I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!

How did I know this, you ask. Well I don’t know. I just had a hunch. But I believe, for one, that this is a very good thing for my family, and I think God knew that too. After all, my brother is the only boy first cousin on each side of the family–it’s about time we had another one! And now, my grandparents can’t tell Spencer that he’s their favorite grandson anymore (the favorite granddaughter ended for me on mom’s side when Jordyn was born, and then came Audrey, and Faith, and Bridget. And on dad’s side, well there were already two girls when I was born….I couldn’t catch a break!). I think it’s good too because my uncle is going to get to have boy-man bonding time with his new son, which is awesome, in my opinion. Growing up with a brother, I know that you def get a different experience if you have just a sister, so I think it will be great for Faith too! Mom told me last night that they want to name him Jacob Daniel in Jordyn (Danielle)’s honor, which I think is a great tribute to her memory. I’m also really partial to the name Jacob, so I’m happy with that. This is such a happy time for my family! We’d appreciate all of your prayers!! Praise Jesus!

I posted an entry a while back called Writer’s Block. Since then, I have redeveloped my ability to write, if that many any sense, and I just kind of wanted to explain what’s been going on.

This semester has been crazy busy for me. Today alone I spent eight hours in the library and got all of two lesson plans written. The only break I had the whole time was to call my very best friend for 15 minutes. When I am this busy, I have no time for myself anymore. It’s almost as though I become a completely different person altogether. I become Rebecca the student, rather than Rebecca the friend or Rebecca the writer, or even Rebecca the obsessive facebook checker. I’m just one 107 lbs lesson plan producing machine. When times like these happen, I lose my ability to be all of those other things. I love creative writing, it’s a passion I’ve had for a very long time. This semester, I’ve not been able to. I used to be able to work out my personal issues by writing a short scene that puts everything in a new perspective. When I’ve tried to do that this semester, nothing would come. I might be able to force out one sentence, but it was so obviously forced and so obviously horrible. I couldn’t even come up with anything to blog, and I hated that. But the other day, something just clicked. I put pen to paper, and a good six pages came from me before I even knew where it was coming from. Then, another story came into my head, and I couldn’t even sleep for all of the ideas racing about in my brain.

It’s good to be back.

PS

I’ve got two new sections on my blog. If you go to the top of the page, on the right, you will see the link to a poll, and a link to my favorite quotes. It may be well worth your time!

I have this story that I stared writing a while back. I kind of like it, but I’m not sure where to go with it. I also want to point out that I have no idea who the main character is, why he has been captured, who is captor is, or his history, I only know what he is doing right now. He has left me at this place for a long time and I hope that one day, he will finish his story to me, but for now, I simply know him as “the Old Man.”

He had hardly noticed how quickly the stub of beeswax generously called a candle had burned so low, until the tiny flame ended its own life. He was startled by the sudden darkness and dropped the matted sparrow feather quill he was holding. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see a black smudge on the parchment where his quill lay. He muttered a curse under his breath as he sprinkled what little sand he had over what he had just written in order to dry it, knowing that paper was scare here, so it was going to have to stay the way it was.

Now that his light was gone and his mind was unoccupied, he realized how cold his small room had grown. He rubbed his bare ink-stained hands together, blowing a feeble breath of warm air on them. He pulled his tattered old army coat around his bony shoulders, sighing as it brought back memories of those glory days long gone.

His long gray hair lay loose around his hallow face, the leather thong he had been using to tie it back having snapped sometime in the last hour. His once sparkling blue eyes lay sunken into his skin, their happy glisten gone, and their color now as gray as his hair.

Unable to see, he felt blindly on the rotten desk searching for the second stub of candle he knew lay there somewhere. His fingers encircled around the small wax stump, its soft body molding slightly under the pressure of his hand. Before he got the chance to light it, however, a sharp beam of torch light was cast on the cold, stone walls, filling the small room with light.

The man turned to see its source, holding a hand in front of his eyes to stop the aching from the sudden brightness. The man holding the torch was young, with a tight face, not un-handsome, but certainly not striking. His red hair was long and pulled back into the fashionable queue. His eyes were a deep mahogany, almost black.

“Well, young man, to whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” the old writer said pleasantly with a rasping voice that sounded as though it had not been used in quite some time.

The younger man looked briefly startled at the unexpected warm welcome. He quickly regained his composure and said in a deep Irish brogue of the countryside, “Your progress?”

The old man chuckled, giving way into a coughing fit. Pulling a yellow handkerchief from his pocket, he held it to his mouth; a small spatter of blood stained it when he pulled it away from his face. He took up a clay cup from his desk and with shaky hand put it to his lips, tasting the staleness of the water. When his cough subsided, he gazed at the boy with a look that once was said to be able to pierce stone. “Perhaps if I was given a taller candle, thicker parchment, a sharper quill, and ink that had not congealed, I could finish this more quickly. Not to mention a shot of whiskey to dull the taste of this, dare I call it, water,” he said raising the cup as if to toast the young man. He was not sarcastic in his comments, more matter-of-fact.

“You have been given what is appropriate for your status.”

“I had not realized my status had sunk so low.”

The young man did not respond, but attempted to hold the stone-like stare of the once strong man. It was almost as if the older man were mocking him, despite the feel of sincerity in the air. “I’ll do what I can to find you another candle,” the younger man finally said.

The old writer did not respond to this small yet generous act, almost as if he did not realize it had happened. Instead, he took a prolonged and poignant sip of the stale water, still holding his eyes to the boy. “Do you have a name, lad?” he asked as he sat the cup down in its place on the desk.

The boy glanced nervously down the corridor, wondering to himself if he should just leave. The confidence of the old man unnerved him; he had not expected the formality of his air. “Patrick Quinn,” he said finally.

“Ah, Patrick, a good strong Irish name. How old are you, m’boy.”

“I am nineteen.”

Despite the willingness to respond, the older man could not help but notice that the boy lacked the respectful tone that he had once deserved. It angered him. “Just a boy then, you are.” His tone was bitter. “I tell you what, boy, you see what you can do about that candle, and I’ll see what I can do about this parchment.”

Patrick Quinn did not reply but turned heel and left the room. Although he did not see, the old man nodded a bow to his back, out of habit more than anything. The light from Patrick’s torch grew ever dimmer as he passed down the corridor, until at last, the old man sat again in darkness. He did not seem to notice, however, as he had not taken his eyes from the place where the younger man had been standing. Finally, after one more swig to drain the water in his red clay cup, he turned back to his parchment. He picked up his quill and lit the small beeswax stub that was still resting between the fingers of his left hand.

This is from Al Mohler who is President of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. I do not think it could be worded any better.

The election of Sen. Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States came as a bang, not a whimper. The tremors had been perceptible for days, maybe even weeks. On Tuesday, America experienced nothing less than a political and cultural earthquake.

The margin of victory for the Democratic ticket was clear. Americans voted in record numbers and with tangible enthusiasm. By the end of the day, it was clear that Barack Obama would be elected with a majority of the popular vote and a near landslide in the Electoral College. When President-Elect Obama greeted the throngs of his supporters in Chicago’s Grant Park, he basked in the glory of electoral energy.

For many of us, the end of the night brought disappointment. In this case, the disappointment is compounded by the sense that the issues that did not allow us to support Sen. Obama are matters of life and death — not just political issues of heated debate. Furthermore, the margin of victory and sense of a shift in the political landscape point to greater disappointments ahead. We all knew that so much was at stake.

For others, the night was magical and momentous. Young and old cried tears of amazement and victory as America elected its first African-American President — and elected him overwhelmingly. Just forty years after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, an African-American stood to claim victory as President-Elect of the nation. As Sen. Obama assured the crowd in Chicago and the watching nation, “We will get there. We will get there.” No one hearing those words could fail to hear the refrain of plaintive words spoken in Memphis four decades ago. President-Elect Obama would stand upon the mountaintop that Dr. King had foreseen.

That victory is a hallmark moment in history for all Americans — not just for those who voted for Sen. Obama. As a nation, we will never think of ourselves the same way again. Americans rich and poor, black and white, old and young, will look to an African-American man and know him as President of the United States. The President. The only President. The elected President. Our President.

Every American should be moved by the sight of young African-Americans who — for the first time — now believe that they have a purchase in American democracy. Old men and old women, grandsons and granddaughters of slaves and slaveholders, will look to an African-American as President.
Regardless of politics, could anyone remain unmoved by the sight of Jesse Jackson crying alone amidst the crowd in Chicago? This dimension of Election Day transcends politics and touches the heart of the American people.

Yet, the issues and the politics remain. Given the scale of the Democratic victory, the political landscape will be completely reshaped. The fight for the dignity and sanctity of unborn human beings has been set back by a great loss, and by the election of a President who has announced his intention to sign the Freedom of Choice Act into law. The struggle to protect marriage against its destruction by redefinition is now complicated by the election of a President who has declared his aim to repeal the Defense of Marriage Act. On issue after issue, we face a longer, harder, and more protracted struggle than ever before.

Still, we must press on as advocates for the unborn, for the elderly, for the infirm, and for the vulnerable. We must redouble our efforts to defend marriage and the integrity of the family. We must be vigilant to protect religious liberty and the freedom of the pulpit. We face awesome battles ahead.
At the same time, we must be honest and recognize that the political maps are being redrawn before our eyes. Will the Republican Party decide that conservative Christians are just too troublesome for the party and see the pro-life movement as a liability? There is the real danger that the Republicans, stung by this defeat, will adopt a libertarian approach to divisive moral issues and show conservative Christians the door.

Others will declare these struggles over, arguing that the election of Sen. Obama means that Americans in general — and many younger Evangelicals in particular — are ready to “move on” to other issues. This is no time for surrender or the abandonment of our core principles. We face a much harder struggle ahead, but we have no right to abandon the struggle.

We should look for opportunities to work with the new President and his administration where we can. We must hope that he will lead and govern as the bridge-builder he claimed to be in his campaign. We must confront and oppose the Obama administration where conscience demands, but work together where conscience allows.

Evangelical Christians face another challenge with the election of Sen. Obama, and a failure to rise to this challenge will bring disrepute upon the Gospel, as well as upon ourselves. There must be absolutely no denial of the legitimacy of President-Elect Obama’s election and no failure to accord this new President the respect and honor due to anyone elected to that high office. Failure in this responsibility is disobedience to a clear biblical command.

Beyond this, we must commit ourselves to pray for this new President, for his wife and family, for his administration, and for the nation. We are commanded to pray for rulers, and this new President faces challenges that are not only daunting but potentially disastrous. May God grant him wisdom. He and his family will face new challenges and the pressures of this office. May God protect them, give them joy in their family life, and hold them close together.

We must pray that God will protect this nation even as the new President settles into his role as Commander in Chief, and that God will grant peace as he leads the nation through times of trial and international conflict and tension.

We must pray that God would change President-Elect Obama’s mind and heart on issues of our crucial concern. May God change his heart and open his eyes to see abortion as the murder of the innocent unborn, to see marriage as an institution to be defended, and to see a host of issues in a new light. We must pray this from this day until the day he leaves office. God is sovereign, after all.

Without doubt, we face hard days ahead. Realistically, we must expect to be frustrated and disappointed. We may find ourselves to be defeated and discouraged. We must keep ever in mind that it is God who raises up nations and pulls them down, and who judges both nations and rulers. We must not act or think as unbelievers, or as those who do not trust God.

America has chosen a President. President-Elect Barack Obama is that choice, and he faces a breathtaking array of challenges and choices in days ahead. This is the time for Christians to begin praying in earnest for our new President. There is no time to lose.

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I know I have something to say, but I’m not sure, as I’ve not been over the last few weeks, how to word it.