Hello from Wisconsin

I greet you from Menomonie, Wisconsin, home for two weeks of Summer Festival Youth Camps. I had the opportunity to come and speak and share music here today. And what an opportunity! This is a camp who's simple, yet straight to the punch mission is to "give each teenager the opportunity to consider a relationship with Jesus Christ". And that is exactly what they do, and in a dynamic way.

A couple at my church have a brother who lives in Minneapolis and is friends with the guy who started Youth Forum Summer Fest 26 years ago (he also started Castaway Young Life Camp) They sent him my cd and he called me out of the blue a couple of months ago.

This camp is unique in that there's an even split or even more than 50% Catholic students in attendance at a non-denom camp. It's TRULY non-denominational, but very sensitive to who the audience is.

I guess all I wanted to say is that I'm constantly amazed at God's mighty working in every area. Tonight I saw kids respond in worship to their creator and mend brokenness and cry and hug and dedicate themselves. There was even a baptism. Three kids from a church had that desire and their pastor was here as a counselor. After the service, he baptized them. It was amazing!

Praise you, God! You are the giver of all good things and I marvel at the things you are letting me be a part of!

Recurring Dreams...

Yesterday I got up at about 4:30 am to let my dog outside and since it was hot in my room, I went and laid down on the couch instead. The conditions must have been just right to bring about this dream...

It was so vivid, so real that when I woke up, my heart was pounding and all I could do was take a deep breath and lay there, thankful that I was awake again.
I don't dream a whole lot, but I've had this recurring dream about once a year since the beginning of college, so probably for the last 8 or 10 years. It is this:

It is my wedding day, and all at once I realize that I'm marrying the wrong person. Not in the sense that there is just one person and all the others are wrong, but more in the sense that I just KNOW that this person is not right. The conditions are all right. All my friends and family are there, and they are so happy for me. I'm in my wedding dress, but inside I am dying because I know I have a choice to make. The thing is that in my past dreams, I've never seen the groom's face, I just know it's not the right thing.

The dream is usually exactly the same. I start to try and say something to someone, but I can't because it's too late, everyone is there and I just have to fake my way through the whole thing, but all I want to do is run away and when I wake up, I feel sick.

Yesterday was so much the same and yet, so different from all the rest. It was even more intense, and this time the groom even had a face and I knew him. Just a friend from college, actually, which was random, but the fact is, he had a face and I could see him and it was all the more real. He asked me to marry him and I said OK and all at once it was my wedding day, but all the while, my inside was screaming, "NOOO!!! You're settling for the wrong person." But everyone was bustling around me, almost more aware of the event itself than of Me. So I get determined to stop this and I first try to talk to Jenny and tell her that I can't do this and she says, "of course you can do this, it's fine!" Then I start telling everyone No and they just pass me off and then I'm walking down the aisle and I just say out loud, "I cannot and will not do this!"
Then I woke up.

I had a meeting with my spiritual director yesterday afternoon and I told her about it and I think this may be the most meaningful dream I've had, maybe ever.

I've had a tendency in my life to make decisions based on what will please others, at the expense of what I know deep down was the right thing. I've also had temptations lately to delve into relationships that would be convenient and nothing lasting. My flesh says yes, but my spirit is clinging desperately to something more lifegiving: A future that I cannot see yet, but I believe is there. So my personal little war goes on.

I know what's right, I know what's wrong, but it's developing the ability to choose according to my deepest convictions. The thing that Sr. Sarah pointed out is that never in my past dreams have I gotten to the point where I really stop the whole thing. Well, this time I did. I made the choice that altered everything and changed my entire life right there in that second.

I feel, in a certain sort of way, that I'm having the book thrown at me as I await my departure to a different life. Like a last ditch effort to keep me where I once was: Chained to my poor decisions. I don't want to be there ever again. I'll fight, I'll stop the music, rip off the dress and run to what I know is right, even if I don't know how it will all turn out in the end. Do what's right, leave the rest to God.

I'm saying "Yes" to God's proposal. This will never be wrong.

"Ve-Jetta-ble Oil"

I am excited about this one...

I made the decision to sell my bee-yoo-tee-ful 2003 Red Subaru Forester "Red Ruby the Subee" and exchange my All Wheel Drive Dream Machine for a "grease car". That's right, a GREASE CAR.

When I told my sister that I was selling my car, she just laughed at me and told me I truly have a committment problem (even if it is to just a car!)...I was not offended considering the fact that I have owned 14 cars in my 12 years of driving-sheesh! How did that happen?

I truly think I have landed on something that will be amazing. Here it is:

about a year ago, I started reading about these nut cases, probably all Californians (hey, did I just slam myself!?) who were "converting" their diesel cars to run on used vegetable oil. And they were getting the oil from fast food restaurants. "Yea, okay, whatever", I thought. But the more I read, the more I was intrigued. However, I kind of just forgot about it and went with my Subaru purchase. But now I, Miss jobless by choice, need to be free of a car payment and my work of choice will mean me driving ridiculous miles and spending even more ridiculous amounts of money on said gas...

The "vegetable cars" started working their way into the picture last week...

I did some research with my knowledgeable brother in law and it's totally legitimate. It truly works. You buy a conversion kit for $795 and from then on you can run your diesel car on FREE vegetable oil...Capital C Crazy! The crazier thing is I'm totally going to do it!

I am going to buy a 2000 Volkswagen Jetta with a TDI (turbo diesel) 1.9 Litre engine. It is at a salvage yard in Denver, as it has been in an accident. However, it has a clean title and very minimal damage (about $600), then I'll get the conversion kit and be on my McMerry Way!

How's that for smart, environmental innovation? I'm pumped to not pump any more from the pump...Goodbye Conoco, Hello McDonald's!

More Details to come!

Sniff...Cry...Argggggggg!

I am wondering why it seems that only during the extremely emotional times, that I come back to this blog to spill my guts... "Why, why why?" And of course, I already know why and so it goes that my own little rhetorical world lives on! I am a songwriter, I am a "feeler" by nature and in these times, we drama queens and kings of the world must find an outlet to divulge these highs and lows. Besides, how interesting is it to blog about going to the grocery store, or filling your tank with gas?

So,what I'm really trying to say is that I'm discouraged. I think I'm supposed to move to Denver. Yes, that is where I'm going. I'm over the difficult separation of leaving this place, I'm ready to go, but I guess I'm discouraged that I don't know where I'm going to live. It is at this point, that I discount my own emotions and think, "quit being a baby, Krista!" And then little Holy Spirit voice says, "I will take care of You" and then I start to blubber and cry nonetheless! "But I want to know NOW!" And I think of Jesus saying, "the Son of Man has no place to lay his head". And I think, "well, I'm not the son of man, Lord!!!" (Aren't we all relieved about that!)

I've been a Craig's List Junkie for the past month trying to find the perfect place (meaning nearly Free, not in gangsta land and able to have a dog!) and doggonnit, pun totally intended, I just can't seem to land it!

Lord, please keep me from the ridiculous, please keep me trusting you and please help me to be praying more for others instead of blubbering about myself.

In the grand scheme...

I kept this as a draft for a long time after one of the youth in Alliance was killed just driving home on a country road. I read it again and it gave me perspective, so with that in mind and more than a year later, I publish this post...


My toenail fell off last night...

Nic didn't get another day.

I had to get a mole removed 3 days ago...

Nic didn't get another day.

I had to have stiches for the first time in my 28 years...

Nic didn't get another day.

I feel scared about moving, about change.

Nic didn't get another day.

I'm worried about my little brother...

Nic didn't get another day.

Where will the money come from?

Nic didn't get another day.

Will I ever pay off my credit cards?

Nic didn't get another day.

God Bless Nic and all the youth who mourn him.

If I had a dollar for every time...

As I was saying, If I had a dollar for every time someone has suggested that my husband is probably waiting for me down in Colorado, well, I'd have at least $20 bucks in my wallet by now! But you know, with gas prices the way they are, that would only get me as far as Cheyenne! And to think I was SO close to married bliss! How Sad.

Seriously, though...what's the deal? Is this some kind of random prophecy, or is it just nice old ladies trying to make me feel better about being 28 and single (I didn't know I felt bad!). Whatever the case, I'm feeling antsy to go. And no, not because Mr. Man is scaling madly up and down the Rocky Mountains to find me, but thankfully because I feel the pull of God. For all I can tell, in spite of my tears of leaving Alliance and Nebraska in general (it really grows on ya after 9 years), there is something deeper pushing me on, and so I will go...wherever.

Lord, I am excited for this journey. I feel it's you, and so that is enough.

I end with this advice that has meant a great deal to me in the last couple of months of discerning: by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Patient Trust

Above all, trust in the slow work of God
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to
something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing though
some stages of instability-
and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.
your ideas mature gradually-let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don't try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++

O God you are my God... and step by step you'll lead me and I will follow you all of my days...

God Made Boots...

I love my nephew Josh. Three years old with bright blond hair and two treacherous cowlicks swirling around the back of his head, creating constant spikey bed-head hair. His smile is like sunshine and he talks to everyone he sees. "Hi! How's it going?" He says this to the old ladies at the hardware store and anyone else who will listen.

Lately, I haven't been around very much, but when I do come through the door, his latest thing is to come give me a hug and then go run and tell my sister, "Mommy, Krista loves us!" Yep. He's right. I do!

Last night, I came home late, was super hungry and discouraged...until Josh busted onto the scene. He was hauling around his black winter boots that he loves to wear. He zipped them up and proudly said, "Krista, look at these boots. I love my boots. God made my boots!" His dad said, "God didn't make your boots, people did." And Josh vehemently said, "No, Dad, God made my boots for me!" I said, "Tell me how God made your boots, Josh". He said, "Welllllll, God made my boots in a factory just for me!".

Behind the smile and laughter I thought of how much I want to be like Josh. It's just enough to know that God is there. In a funny way, I think that Josh is right, God did make the boots. I mean, without God there's nothing. No world, No people, No black boots. I guess I'd like to exist more and more in the realm of having one thing certain. It would be this: GOD IS. And if God is, then I can stay there securely even when my own boots fall off.

26.2 Miles of Sheer Bliss!!!

I never dreamed I would do this, but I did...I never thought I'd know what it felt like to run for 5 hours and 19 minutes straight, but now I know! I fought laringitis and a secondary infection that wiped me out a month before the race, I struggled to keep things together when I pulled my tendon on my 20 mile run two weeks before the marathon and had to succumb to sitting out of my runs, icing the heck out of my foot just to get it better. No, I am not a specimen of all that running is, but I pushed my own limits and I went beyond my boundaries, and I accomplished the goal: I FINISHED!!!

The alarm sounded way too early a week ago Sunday and it also signaled the start of something I hoped I could complete. I changed clothes twice, put makeup on (which I laughed at myself for doing!), drank my power shake and finally laced up my shoes. It was now or never.

The gun sounded and there I was with 4,000 others heading in the same direction: The journey and the finish line. It is amazing how much faster time goes when you are running with someone beside you. We are not meant to be alone! I had the privilege of running with a lady named Nancy from mile 7-13, where she finished the half-marathon. We talked about her decision of whether to keep her public school job or teach in a private school and we shared stories along the way. She met me back at mile 24 when I was wanting so badly to stop and she cheered me on! Thank you Nancy!

Out of the blue, I saw my old college friend, Suzi Anderson-Haggeman running beside me. What a surprise! I found out that it was her grandpa for whom the Lincoln Marathon was started. Olympian Lewis Robbins Anderson...what a legacy!

I saw my friend Luke getting ready to make his dash to the finish as I was rounding the corner of mile 17. He's pretty much a monster when it comes to running. 3:09 for your first marathon? Yea, that's pretty good! Way to go, Luke! Thanks for dragging me into this (and waiting for me at the finish line!)

And what shall I say about my dearest friends, Jessica, Candi, Jenny, Melissa and Jessica Foster? They ran like wild women all over the streets of Lincoln, dodging one way streets and blocked intersections just to meet me all along the way and scream and holler my name...I love you, girls!

At mile 23 I really wanted to stop, I hurt all over and was so tired and then I started talking to myself out loud, "You can make it, Krista. You are TOTALLY going to make it!!!" I made up this mantra from scripture: "I run like a man not beating the air, gonna win the prize, win the prize..." and so it went to the rhythm of my pounding steps, over and over again...

There is something so completely spiritual about all of this. The idea of perseverance takes on a whole new world for me. What it really feels like to go when you don't want to go anymore. To push and then push harder just to get one foot in front of the other. To know that people are cheering you on, running beside you, but still in the end, we each have our race that only we can run...Thank you God, for teaching me something new all the time, I just didn't know it would come in the form of a marathon!

Lastly, I want to tell you what it felt like to round the corner and see the finish line only .2 miles ahead. A feeling washed over me that I can't quite compare to anything else. I caught myself off guard as it came into view and as I heard people start cheering my name from still a distance away. The tears were in my eyes, throat, stomach and I couldn't quite catch my breath as I realized I was about to complete what I'd been working towards for 5 winter months. I cried and smiled and ran with a new burst across the finish line...No, I wasn't fast, but I was consistent. And when I hurt, I said a prayer of thanks that I had legs to run on and a body that was healthy enough to get me the distance. What blessings!

I'm thankful for this adventure! I end with a runner's prayer:

Run by my side-live in my heartbeat;
give strength to my steps.
As the cold confronts me,
as the wind pushes me,
I know you surround me.
As the sun warms me,
as the rain cleanses me,
I know you are touching me,
challenging me,
loving me.
And so I give you this run;
thank you for matching my stride.
Amen!

frozen...

what do you do when all you can do is sit...and wait...and wonder...when everything seems so perfect in the equation and yet everything is just...frozen.

I would like to take this situation into my hands and make it what I think it should be. I would like to make everything fit into this story I have created and has been created for me. I would like all these peices to fit into my world. I would like to believe that God is not teasing me. I would like to do all of these things because of the here and the now and the lonely. But trampling through this tangled forest of my mind, I stop all at once...and on the forest floor where I almost planted my eager foot I see the smallest of flowers. Maybe it will grow, or maybe it will wither due to time and circumstance, but nevertheless, I have seen it and I stop to look at the beauty that is and that I hope could be. It will take all the strength I have not to pry open the petals, knowing that at whatever point I take it into my hands, will be the exact point that the growth will stop and I will be left with a flower, unable to grow in it's own way and in it's own time. I will remain frozen, waiting for the thaw... and I will wait...I will wait...

Scared of this...

I don't really think many people are reading this blog, which is fine with me. I didn't intend on blogging today, but here I am. Well, actually, I've been wanting to blog about all these other profound things that are happening in my life, but this is as much as I've got today: I feel scared. I'm not scared of outward things. I'm leaving my job, I'm leaving the youth I love, I'm leaving my little town and as much as this is hurting my heart, I am at Peace. Thank you God for Peace. But, what am I scared of? I think it is more what I am heading into. "Music Ministry". What is that, anyway? The more that I contemplate, the more I realize that the CD is so peripheral. The posters, the newspaper articles, even inviting people to "my concert" is so much not what I want to be about. I feel sick to my stomach when I think of shameless promotion of self. It makes me want to run and hide. There is this overwhelming desire right now to be swallowed up into the immensity of Christ. Of His Kingdom and the realization that if I could just play one little part in His story that I could die right now and that would be what life was worth. That I would keep my mouth shut except to say something that would be glory to Him and love for people. I also think about how much time I am spending working on a website, calling people, setting up concerts, etc. And I think about the people who are pouring out their very lives to live with Orphans and AIDS victims and I just pray that this thing that I feel God so strongly calling me to, yet I feel so uncomfortable in, would be a means to an end of allowing me to do something like that and would inspire youth, especially to give up their lives and their rights and pour themselves out for the causes of Christ. Take me through the ringer, Lord. Spin out the excess and may you be the remainder in all of this. Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam "For the Greater Glory of God".

"TO THE PAIN!"

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US??????"
If my legs could talk, this is what they would be screaming at me, and in their own polite way, they have been doing just that for the past few days now. I really think that they're more passive-aggressive than anything; Just quietly revolting against the rest of my body and my noble efforts.
It started on January 1. Training for this marathon, that is. There were a lot of things that sealed the deal for me. It was Sue Demmit telling me I needed to work towards a goal. Then my friend Luke told me about the Lincoln Marathon and printed out the training schedule. Then I happened upon this stellar movie called "Saint Ralph" right around Christmas time. I mean, if a scrawny pre-pubescent boy can run the Boston Marathon, then surely I, Krista can take on this lofty goal with ease! Ease, I say! I was so ready to go for it! I still am. But my legs are not.
Up until about 2 weeks ago, things were great. I was getting out there. I was running 10 miles, then 15 and feeling pretty darn good about it. Sure it was a challenge, but I did it- and in fairly respectable fashion, if I do say so myself. So, I don't know what happened. I wish I could actually point to something, but no. It's just like my previously confident legs of steel have morphed into legs of lead. I feel like I can't go anywhere, and even when I do, they're just trying to run in the opposite direction (picture that, please!)
So, where does this leave the rest of me? I do not know. I will not give up, but there is some kind of wall that I must now push through in leiu of my legs kicking through! They will not seem to do this sort of action as of late. If I were to take my Grandpa's advice, ("You better knock that running business off, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack!") I would have already stopped, but aye, I cannot. What is started must be completed.
A scene from "Princess Bride" comes to mind just now. Remember at the end of the movie when Wesley is laying on the bed, paralyzed, but Prince Humperdink doesn't realize this. Humperdink challenges him to a fight "To the Death" and Wesley says, "No! To the 'Pain'", then proceeds to describe in graphic terms how he will cut off his nose, arms and legs, but will leave him alive with only his ears intact so that he can hear the children shrieking in horror at the sight of him, and Humperdink is duped and runs away from the helpless Wesley...ah, what a great movie! But anyway, somewhere there was a correlation between that and how I feel right now. I think that I am Wesley, slightly paralyzed, but determined, and my legs are Humperdink and I will challenge my legs "to the pain", until they start to run at just the sound of my voice!
Memo to my legs: We are going to Lincoln, babies, whether you like it or not!
TO THE PAIN!!!

A quote and a prayer for today...

"Let us throw ourselves into the ocean of God's mercy, where every failing will be cancelled and anxiety turned into Love."
-St. Paul of the Cross

and a prayer I found the other night while reading "Hearts on Fire- Praying with Jesuits"...
It seems to speak loud and clear to me...

Lord, enfold me in the depths of your heart; and there hold me, refine, purge, and set me on fire, raise me aloft, until my own self knows utter annihilation.
-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin SJ

Dying and Rising

Last Weekend...
I was scheduled to help with the TEC (Teens Encounter Christ) retreat in Gering, Nebraska, and on the day I was supposed to leave, I completely lost my voice. I mean, full-fledged laringitis. Only a whisper would come out. I was supposed to be helping lead the music, work as a small group leader and give the "Signs" talk, as well as lead the ice breakers for the 60 participants. Do you see a common thread in these activities? Right, you have to TALK! And what did I have? Diddly Squat. I forgot to mention that I felt like crap, too. I made the decision to still go down there and come home if it got worse. It's kind of funny, though, because about 10 miles outside of Alliance, I turned back around thinking "they can do without me, I'm SICK". I drove about a mile back towards Alliance and then turned back around again to head back to the retreat. (Never mix sickness with an indecisive person! It's a scary combo) So I got there and all the leadership team was milling around, loudly greeting one another, getting things ready, and in a whisper I'm saying,"UGGGGG! Why am I here???" Well, I didn't know why, but I'm convinced now that God did. So, I just started writing "Wheat Letters". These are the letters that are given to the retreatants throughout the weekend by the "Wheat Team", which are the behind the scenes people who pray and serve the whole weekend. These letters are meant to encourage the candidates in their journey of faith during the retreat.
Let me backtrack and explain TEC. It is a 3 day retreat that follows the death, rising and going forward of Jesus. His Passion, basically. We look to him first and see how that reflects into our own lives. Very powerful. So we have "Die Day, Rise Day and Go Day". Die day is especially long and difficult. How much fun is it to talk about dying to self?
I started writing these letters in the back room and the more I wrote, the more I felt this keen sense that this is where I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to be doing. It was amazing that as I fell into the silence, I noticed how loud everyone else was. So much talking, so much noise, sometimes there is so little listening...
I stayed overnight on Friday, but felt worse and worse. On Saturday morning all the retreatants arrived and I stayed in my mummy bag, wallowing in my sickness. I'm sure that I would have sounded pathetic, except no one could hear me, because if I thought I had no voice on Friday, then it was twice as bad on Saturday. Our diocesan youth director basically told me to go home because there was a bad storm forecasted. I started to pack up my things, but I didn't feel peace with leaving, and then I felt the nudge to go pray in the Wheat Chapel. This is where everything changed.
My good friends Willa Cool and Stevie Rea were in there and they prayed over me. Willa started saying that I was there to experience a death to myself and to pray for the kids on the retreat. I just cried because I knew that was it. So, I stayed...And I prayed...And I fell into the dying.
It felt like everything was being stripped away. I wrote about it a little bit before, but it is so stinkin' easy to find identity in what we do. As in "I'm the girl that sings and plays guitar", or "Great Talk, Krista" or "You're so good with the kids". You know, whatever it is, it's easy to find my self-assurance there. I felt like this tree with the bark being stripped off in layers. I wasn't going to be allowed the comforts of what I could do anymore. It was going to be the real me having to hash things out with my creator and to have a heart to be doing what He wanted, even if it wasn't what I had envisioned. Letting Go. Letting Go. Letting Go.
Remember, Saturday was "Die Day". It was a day of utter silence for me, and I felt like I really experienced death like never before. It was almost like maybe my heart was able to feel a little more like Jesus', because it sure didn't feel like my own. It was beating with the weight of the kid's needs, the pain of my own trappings, and feeling God in the middle of it all and yet, still to feel so alone...
The last thing I did before I went to bed on Saturday night was to pray. It went something like this. "God, I know you have me here for reasons beyond me, but if you want me to give my talk to the kids tomorrow, then I need a little help with this voice problem. If I wake up with no voice, I'll know what the answer is and I'm totally fine either way..."
I woke up on Sunday and I had a voice. Slightly scratchy, but I mean, I HAD A VOICE! I don't know, does this really happen? YES, it does, and it did, and I was in awe! I was in awe because of the timing. Sunday also happened to be my birthday and it was "Rise Day"! I felt my spirit bounding, leaping, skipping. I felt like, "okay, this is way bigger than me, but thanks that I get to experience it!" I truly felt that I was being resurrected right then and there. The joy of just being alive for another year, the feeling of being healed and so loved, the idea of pieces being put back together. The realization that death is necessary for resurrection!
I continued in my prayer for the youth on Sunday. I still felt that it was my purpose for being there, but now it was with confidence knowing that this God is so Alive and desiring to work in ways beyond what we can understand.
I am so thankful for this weekend. I am thankful that I was forced into the gift of silence. I am sure of the many changes that happened in the lives of the youth who were on the retreat, and I am sure that this is only the beginning!

O' Happy St. Patrick's Day!

March 17, 2006...
You know, this was the day I was supposed to be born on way back in the year of 1978 and I kind of always wished that I was, but I was 2 days late, so I always think of this as my "quasi" birthday, plus, I am Irish, so it really works out quite nicely!
I'm starting this blog today, March 17th - Two profound things have happened for me in the span of a few hours: I finally got to put in the order for my CD's and also I woke up this morning and I completely lost my voice (ironic, isn't it?).
So, being the introspective person that I am, I've been asking God today what this is supposed to symbolize for me, not having a voice, that is...Because you see, I am really frustrated that I cannot talk, sing, communicate really at all without going into some serious vocal angst. The most frustrating thing is that I'm supposed to be helping lead a retreat for the next three days with 72 high schoolers. I was going to be helping with music, give a witness talk, be a group leader etc and now none of that is going to happen. And I feel this need to perform those tasks and be there for the kids, and yet even as I say that, I feel this little tug like when a little kid pulls on the edge of your shirt to get your attention...It's been happening for a while, really...I think it's God...and I think maybe he's saying (If I may interpret for God), "hey Krista, can you just be with me in the silence for a little bit? Just sit down and quit thinking about how desperately the world will miss you and how important this CD is and what you're supposed to do next and all the clutter you've got going on. This stuff doesn't matter. How about we just hang out and play trucks for a while?" So, I've never played trucks with God, but I say this because my 2 year old nephew always is telling me about his trucks and wanting me to play and I pass him by way too much, you know, like I do God. So, I think what God is calling me to this weekend is a vow of silence and service at the retreat. It's Lent after all and I've been "lenting" in a very haphazard way and it's catching up to me.
So, I'll keep things posted. Never knew I might learn something from a little laringitis.