Monthly Archives: February 2011

Diary Of A Runaway

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I’ve always had dirty shoes.  Dust-covered, worn in, high mileage shoes.  Well, at least figuratively speaking.  I like adventure.  I like new beginnings.  But I’m not as naturally inclined to stick around, stick it out, and finish what I started.  I’m the “ping” and I tend to leave the “pong” for someone else.

My life could easily be charted out in a series of from-here-to-there moves.  From mom’s house to dad’s.  Then back to mom’s.  Then repeat a thousand  times.  From one friend to the next.   One dorm room to another.  One mistake in a series of more.  One shallow relationship in the whole string of them.   From one summer job to the next summer trip.  Then finally came “The Big Move” to California.  And that’s the segment of the chart I’m still wrestling through because for once in my life I am attempting to stick something out till the end, or at least until God changes my course for me, versus pulling the plug prematurely.

I looked in the mirror today and was practically shocked by my appearance.  My once shimmering blonde hair is now a color the bottle called Dark Auburn which is brownish but gleams red in the sunlight.  My short summer bob has grown out to where it falls nicely just below my shoulders.  My jeans are skinnier.  And black.  I own a leather (well, pleather) jacket.  I have strange shoes on my feet made out of a single piece of cloth.  My clothes range from exciting browns and grays to the occasional burst of color or blue.  Not like anyone cares, but to me its representative.  I’m a firm believer fashion is representative of a person, at least to a certain degree.  It speaks of who you are, what you care about, how you view yourself.  Well lately as I’ve been attempting to mature, to find a more solid grounding in my life, and to grow into these skinnier pants of mine I think subconsciously I’ve traded in my rebellious and spontaneous strappy tank tops for more of an artistic view of things.  I know I’m weird, but this kind of stuff matters to me.  I actually do think like this.

So as my fashion displays, I’m in a bit of a dark period.  Not in a depressing, cry-my-eyes-out kind of way.  But in my mind, my heart, and my life in general I’m transitioning, yet again.  Call it a voyage, a walk in the night, or a dark night of the soul even.  And I’m attempting to go against the strong undertow of the current and break through some of the rather tall dam walls that are standing in my way.  I’m attempting to stay put, and hardest of all to be happy about it.  And not just happy, really I’m shooting for ecstatic.

I rounded a corner yesterday as I finally let forgiveness flood my heart, looked my demons in the eye and told them so long and farewell.  So today is feeling different.  Lighter.  More free.  It feels really good.  I sang a Chris Tomlin song at the top of my lungs on the freeway today… “Like a rolling stone, like a runaway train, no more turning back, no more yesterdays, my heart is free no chains on me, God you raise me up, up from the grave, the cross before me I’m on my way, my heart is free, no chains on me.” I decided that if I can program my internal stereo to constantly sing Chris Tomlin songs I would inevitably have good days more often than not.

I also drove by the teeny tiny San Luis Obispo airport.  I’m extremely sentimental and for some reason this airport feels special to me.  Maybe because when I landed here it was the first place I saw so internally I feel the need to return to the Mother Ship every now and then just to say hi.  But it’s like my reminder.  My physical representation of God’s grace and the free-will He gives.  Because God will not hold me here.  He granted me the grace to come here on a one-way ticket and if I choose to remove myself all I have to do is buy another one-way (and convince my husband to join me I suppose).  Kind of like an alcoholic who passes by the liquor store just to remember how things used to be; knowing he could go in but doesn’t dare to.  It’s like that I suppose.  A reminder that my life here was, and still is, a gift.  So I passed it by, drove slow enough and just long enough to scoff at the idea of actually leaving it all behind.  And with that I cranked the stereo back up.

In a world where homes aren’t really homes and where families break up, I’m setting my sights extremely high.  It will be a miracle if I make it.  Which is why I’m expectant because I happen to know someone who loves to do a good miracle.

For once in my life I’m not going to run.

Two Must-See Documentaries

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This past week I watched two eye-opening, must-see documenataries thanks to my $12 a month subscription to Netflix.  Love Netflix.

The two documentaries I watched were The Business of Being Born (2007) and Food Inc (2009).  Both on totally different topics, but both incredibly good. 

The Business of Being Born is a beautiful, refreshing take on childbirth that I would recommend to any mom-to-be or anyone who knows a mom-to-be.  While Food Inc is relevant to anyone and everyone who eats because it’s interesting how we eat food at least three times a day (or hourly if you’re more like me) yet we rarely stop to think about how it got to our plates or in those cute little wrappers.  

However, just to be fair I would say that The Business of Being Born is just one way of viewing childbirth and Food Inc has a slant towards promoting organic-only foods.  Yet I still found the information presented to be interesting and relevant and I still recommend it.   

So check out the movie trailers below and then curl up with some hot tea and enjoy the films… 

Truth or Dare, Or Maybe Both

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Some books give you that fuzzy, feel good all over feeling.  You know, the ones you read all snuggled up in a blanket on your favorite chair with some pistachios and a glass of wine in hand?  The ones that tell of romance and true love, that bring a deeper understanding about God’s grace and acceptance in our lives, and the kind that spur our hearts to dream magical and enchanting dreams.  The book I’m reading now is, unfortunately, not one of those books. 

I hesitantly cracked open the paperback book with the orange cover that my boss handed out to our entire staff at work two weeks ago.  About three pages in I felt like I was lying helpless on the floor, exposed, and hurting.  Big questions began floating around my mind, bumping into one another and my head began to hurt.  Sure makes you want to read this book, huh?  

This is not a book review because after sitting down at BlackHorse Espresso for forty-five minutes today on my lunch break I only made it through the first chapter and I am not sure I even want to continue reading.  I’m not sure I know how to answer the big questions and I’m not sure how to put literally anything from the first chapter into action.  However, just like in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, once you know that there’s something real on the other side of the wardrobe, it’s impossible to continue playing hide-n-seek in the house pretending that you aren’t at least curious about what’s on the other side.

 But enough suspense already.  The book published last year is called “Radical” by David Platt and the subtitle states: “Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream”.  I told you, this is not a fuzzy kind of book.  Yet the reason I trust what is written on the pages of this book is that it is a message that has increasingly emerged from small and humble pulpits around America over the past few decades.  It is also a topic that my favorite preacher Paul Washer has passionately and respectfully been yelling at people for most of his ministry.  And like this book points out, the most convincing and gut wrenching reason why I should care about this is because the tough words I’m being laid out on the floor by are not those of David Platt but they are the unblemished, unbiased, swear your life on it, truthful words of Jesus Christ himself.

 So send me a card, buy me a latte or maybe just read the book along with me because I’m in need of some TLC as I let the words of Jesus rip apart my perfectly outfitted American Dream life.  I pray I have the strength to not fight back too hard and to let him have his way in me.

I want the truth and I’m daring to try and find it.  Are you?

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Click to see the You Tube book trailer for “Radical”

Click here to buy the book or submit your email address to receive the first chapter of the book for free

Never Say Never…one day you just might see this movie too

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I have never quite outgrown my tweens.  I’m not sure why, but this is a fact.  I’m currently twenty-four, married, work a full-time job and still get excited over the occasional teeny bopper boy-band, or in this case, Justin Bieber’s blue eyes and cute haircut.  Luckily, my husband agrees that if they are under the age of eighteen, me thinking they’re cute is not really a threat…it’s just a little strange.

But anyhow,on this rainy Saturday afternoon, my friend Danielle and I drove out to the Arroyo Grande cinemas to see the new Justin Bieber movie, “Never Say Never.”  I had expected the theater to mostly be filled with girls ranging from elementary to middle school and their moms, and I was right.  But just like the concert at the California Mid-State Fair in Paso Robles last July, there was a good number of college-aged women and handful of men represented.  (If you didn’t get a chance to see my review of the Justin Bieber concert for the SLO Tribune’s blog last year, scroll down to the next post or click here.)

You must admit, that whether or not you personally enjoy this style of pop music or showmanship, America at large is becoming increasingly obsessed with child-talent and making overnight superstars out of them.  Justin Bieber is a prime example of this trend.

Overall, the movie resembled an old-school VH1 Behind the Music series with tons of concert clips, fan interviews, and footage of Justin on his tour bus, backstage and back home hanging out with his family and friends in Ontario, Canada.  The family home movies of him growing up playing drums, playing guitar on his couch at three years old, and performing in local talent shows was some of the most sentimental moments.  And for $12.50 we got to experience all this in 3D wonder.

When the movie started every girl in the audience started squealing and clapping and Danielle and I looked at each other like, “Oh my gosh, what did we get ourselves into?”  But the thing that really makes you want this kid to succeed career wise, and succeed in not getting sucked into the Black Hole of immorality that Hollywood is known for, is that his and his family’s faith in Jesus is evident throughout the film.  Clips of his whole crew praying before concerts in Jesus’ name, his mother sitting on his bed with him praying for full healing of his vocal chords the night before his sold out show at Madison Square Gardens, and especially Justin and his friends thanking God for their Hawaiian and Pepperoni pizzas at a local eatery.  C ‘mon, how can you not love him?

All I can say is that this movie was highly entertaining, and I not-so-secretly hope that someday my daughters will want to go to these kind of concerts so that I can continue to have an excuse to go too.

Bieber Swoons, Shares His Past With Giddy Girls

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originally posted on SLO Tribune’s Blog:


http://sloblogs.thetribunenews.com/sidetracked/2010/07/23/bieber-swoons-at-mid-state-fair/

Concert Review: Justin Bieber at the California Mid-State Fair

Today’s entry was written by guest blogger Erin Kidwell, who attended last night’s Justin Bieber show:

It took just under an hour going north on the 101 to get from San Luis Obispo to the first Paso Robles exit on Wednesday night, opening day of  the California Mid State Fair.  The fairgrounds buzzed with women, girls, tweens and the occasional misplaced male, rushing to the gates of the Grand Stand Arena to see none other than teen pop phenomenon, 16-year-old Justin Bieber.

The sold-out arena contained the mob of fans that dropped between $30-$75 per ticket, and a reported $4,000 to attend the meet-n-greet.  Girls with neon t-shirts and glittery neon poster board signs openly professing their love, or obsession, to the pop star enjoyed the first two opening acts: a girl group called The Stunners and an up-and-coming artist, 15-year-old Jessica Jarrell.

Along for the tour with Bieber was Sean Kingston, who brought his reggae fusion, hip-hop flair to the stage.  His high-energy performance kept those in the crowd with their hands in the air as he continuously encouraged the audience to jump along to his songs.

Bieber took the stage around 9 p.m.,  just as it turned dark, clothed in white pants and a white cargo jacket.  The ferris wheel and other carnival rides lit up the night sky and provided the romantic setting that stirred the hearts of young concert attendees.  Bieber opened with the song “Love Me” and performed other hit singles including “One Less Lonely Girl,” “One Time,” “Favorite Girl,” “Never Say Never,” “Down To Earth,” “Eenie Meenie,” and “Baby.”

Bieber’s fans didn’t seem too critical of his sometimes unpolished dance moves, reminding onlookers that the young prodigy became famous for his smooth, crooning voice, not necessarily his natural hip-hop dance ability.  Performing with him were four male back up dancers and a full live band.  His voice closely resembled recorded tracks from his album and he definitely performed to the girls in the audience, provoking them with invitations such as, “Where my beautiful girls at?” and “Who wants to be my baby?”

Bieber made a few costume changes throughout the night, displaying his Usher-influenced casual urban style.  A red, hooded zip-up sweatshirt, black jeans, and matching red high tops was just one of his looks.

Some of the show’s highlights included a picture slideshow of Bieber growing up and a video of home movies that showed a young Bieber dancing around in the kitchen, riding his bike and singing the ABC’s.  A public service announcement-type video featured Bieber encouraging his fans to not text and drive.

During the song “One Less Lonely Girl,” one lucky fan was seated on a stool center stage.  Bieber then handed her a dozen red roses and caused the audience of young girls to squeal in amazement as he carefully caressed her check while he sang to her.  Other awe factors included laser light effects and gold streamers that shot into the air during the encore song performance.

Overall, Bieber proved to be family friendly and highly entertaining.  He incorporated cool dance moves, catchy songs, and a variety of eye-catching movement on stage.  So whether you yourself have caught Bieber fever, watch out – this kid sure can draw a crowd.

Photo: McClatchy

Posted on July 23rd, 2010

Creations

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Today I decided to add a new category to my blog called “Creations.”  I know, I know, another blog about DIY crafts, fashion, cooking and the like!?!?  Well, yes, actually but I’m rather excited about it. 

I’ve always loved to write so it’s something I naturally gravitate towards.  However, recently I’ve been discovering why it is I enjoy writing so much and I think it has to do with the following things:

1) Writing has to do with creating.  God is the ultimate creative genius.  So when we create things: writing, art, music, food, etc. we are “sharing a hobby” with God and joining Him in something He loves to do. 

2) Some of the best writing is about the common, yet deep things in life like love, happiness, relationships, adventure, beauty, heartbreak, and finding meaning in our lives.  I’ve been discovering lately how God wants me to find each teenie tiny part of my life significant and meaningful and worth writing about. 

3) “Writing is a form of personal freedom.  It frees us from the mass identity we see in the making all around us.  In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals.” ~Don Delillo.  Agreed. 

But writing is just one form of creating and in the past 8.5 months of marriage I’ve found myself excited about things I’ve never cared too much about before or I’ve found myself needing to get excited about those things more.  Such as creating meals for my husband that he can swallow and making our home a place that is cozy and welcoming to others.   

So I guess you could say I hopped on the bandwagon.  I guess I’d say that it’s about time!

Mission: Kidwells Become Runners By Christmas

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On November 15th of last year, a Monday, Jon and I set out to fulfill one of the highest and noblest of callings.  Through much hardship and training we were destined to leave behind the quiet comfort of our small, but fashionable apartment a few days a week and embark on forty minute long adventure sessions throughout the neighborhoods of west San Luis Obispo.  We were ferociously committed to claiming the coveted title of “Runner” and we set ourselves a goal of attaining such a status by the time Christmas rolled around. 

It all started, however, not out of a burning passion to run but out of my desire to keep Jon from whining about how he never had time to get outside and be active anymore.  I can say this without guilt of making him sound bad because in our relationship, ninety-nine percent of the time I am the one who is whining.  So on the rare occasions that Jon does begin to whine, it stands out like a farmer in New York City.  Completely out of place and I didn’t care for it.  So I came up with a solution.  “Why don’t we start running Jon?”  “I hate running.”  “Oh…”

So we spent a week or two coming up with ideas of different physically active hobbies we could get into.  The problem was that with each suggestion the likelihood that we would actually consistently continue to take part in that particular hobby was slim.  Surfing included cold water temperatures and the hassle of hauling the boards to the beach without a truck.  Biking seemed like it would get boring too quickly and I have always despised that burning feeling you get in your legs after a while.  Rock climbing involved paying for a membership at a local climbing wall.  Tennis failed because we weren’t good enough at playing to keep a rally going on very long, meaning that the level of physical intensity of tennis fell at about a two.  Jon ruled out yoga and pilates almost immediately because last year a friend took us to a local Bikram yoga class and I think Jon almost cried publicly.  So after this whole run-around of suggestions, the idea of running seemed to emerge as the obvious, inexpensive, convenient, and literally the only reasonable option. 

The first couple times we went running  sadly resembled the opening episodes of a Biggest Loser season with Jon as the loser and me as Jillian.  He hated it and wasn’t able to carry on a conversation because he was too focused on finding the will to continue.  I, on the other hand, also wondered if I could merge my life-long solo activity into a social one.  Growing up, running was my opportunity to get away from it all.  I relied on running to help clear my head and with the help of my iPod I entered into whatever kind of reality I preferred for that moment.  So it was difficult for both of us and also challenging to pull ourselves up and out of bed while the sun was still not shining and when our apartment felt cold. 

However something happened on run number five.  Up until that point we had been running before work around Laguna Lake until our lungs said, “no more”, but for run number five we decided to go in the evening after work and Jon used his Google Map skills to chart us a course where he could determine the length and grid ahead of time.  Bingo!  Jon has this thing for Google Maps and charting a course that goes way back to his trip to Europe and his adventurous, backpacker, thrill-seeker, travel guru days.  And because of his ahead of time planning, he actually enjoyed the run and was motivated enough to finish the course without my verbal help. 

After that day, things really took off and a few days later Jon informed me that he was going on a run without me.  I was baffled.  Then he informed me that he would be running a full five miles which was further than either of us had ever run together.  It’s a proud day and a sad one when the student far surpasses the teacher in both motivation and ability.  But he came back successful and sweaty and that was the day our real running adventures began. 

Since then we have enjoyed many more runs around town and the occasional special run on the Bob Jones Trail or up and over the sand dunes on the stretch of beach in Morro Bay.  One time we parked at the Madonna Inn and set off to tackle the Lemon Grove Trail on Madonna Mountain and ended up on the other side of downtown, trying to make it back to the car before dark.  My favorite excursion being the time we ran right along the water line of the ocean, where we joined the Snowy Plovers and receded along with the water and then sprinted for dry sand when the waves came tumbling into shore to devour our tennis shoes.  Snowy Plovers are my favorite bird and I like to mimic their strange but cute tendencies. 

And now that we have become accustomed to the rhythm of running together and our bodies have since adjusted to the physical output, running has become our favorite way to unwind from a busy day of mundane work in an office building.  In my opinion we are becoming more like old people at a young age, meaning we can do almost anything together and just enjoy the other’s company. 

This time of year the sun in just setting about the time we hit our halfway point and as we stride we talk about what’s happened, what’s happening and what’s just up ahead for us.  We admire all of the big and beautiful houses and talk about which ones we would want to buy if we had the means to.  Then we repent to the Lord because if we are ever given the ability to own a nice home in San Luis Obispo county it should be for his uses and glory, not for our own comfort.  Next we quote Paul Washer sermons to each other and talk about moving overseas so that we don’t fall into the trap of the American Dream of constantly upgrading our lifestyle and accommodations.  Our ongoing game is to make fun of all the ridiculous things people are watching on TV as we run by and look in their windows.  Finally, to further lighten the mood we talk about baby names because I am becoming increasingly obsessed with baby names and I don’t know why.                  

I keep talking about running a 10k this year while Jon still suggests he is marathon-bound one day.  For me on the other hand I am content running the daily short races and am not sure my knees would carry me through the wear-and-tear of a marathon anyway.  Soccer was brutal on my knees.  So, Mission: Kidwells Become Runners By Christmas?  Mission accomplished.

A Drive Through Spokane

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The grayish-blue winter sky faded into the gray cityscape built of weathered buildings and road-side slush residue.  We were driving across town, yet again.  It was February.  And there was a great need for the north-south freeway to be finished.

A few new things had popped up around town, but for the most part things looked the same.  A little worse actually, as the harsh winters had continued to take a toll on all the new and old structures and created increasingly speckled pothole roads.   The People’s Gallery art wall on the Maple Street Bridge appeared mostly faded, resembling a sidewalk chalk mural the morning after a light rain.  And a couple of my favorite local shops were now closed.      

Sweatpants ran rampant throughout the city.  At least that’s what Jon said.  As an outsider of the Pacific Northwest that was his main observation.   As a California native he explained to me that Californians only wear sweats if they are sick or if it’s past 11pm in a grocery store.  I explained to him that in the Pacific Northwest sweats are a way of life, and on many occasions they are considered fashionable.  He didn’t believe me until he kept seeing various demographics of people wearing sweats around town.  He still thought it was weird. 

After maneuvering through strange road layouts and pinning down frustrations about abnormally slow speed limits we finally made it to church where there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for us just inside the double doors.  Quite possibly the most endearing thing about the Pacific Northwest is the free coffee before, during and after church services.  I miss that.  And with the long, harsh winters I think the people need it.  My friend who regularly attends there says that each week a few homeless people come in and sit on the floor in the back of the church just to drink the coffee.  I think that’s really cool.

The Awkwardness of Airports

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Sitting in airports makes me completely uncomfortable.   There are few places in the world where so many people, from so many different walks of life are all gathered in a single place with nothing to do.  Everybody is bored, or reading, or nowadays they’re likely on a laptop or texting.  One third of people are physically here but by the look on their faces mentally they are somewhere far, far away.  Everyone is coming and going and caught in the middle of unfolding stories of life that they’re trying to figure out while purposfully avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the vicinity.  And I’m writing because I’m not sure what to do in situations like this.

This morning Jon and I are on a trek up to Washington to spend a week with my family.  We drove from San Luis Obispo to Oakland last night where we stayed in a Sleep, Park ‘N Ride hotel and we awoke this morning to billows of marijuana smoke coming in through our window because our neighbor on the floor below us was enjoying his 6am fix.  We ate a quick breakfast of dried out toast and Fruit Loops at the hotel’s continental breakfast and then we caught our shuttle to the Oakland airport.

And now at the airport, waiting for our flight I’m uncomfortable.  Because in moments like this I can’t decide how I should live out my Christianity.  And suddenly simply believing in God doesn’t seem to cut it.  It doesn’t seem to be changing the world unless I let the Lord Jesus live through me in moments like this.  But my coffee is still kicking in and I fear that by the time I wake up and decide what I should do I will already be on the plane on my way to somewhere else.

Sometimes I wonder if I complicate what God is really asking me to do.  Yet at the same time I am afraid to simply soothe myself, saying that just to go through my day with a positive attitude is enough.  As if me just breathing is enough to fulfill the Great Commission.  I have a reoccuring daydream at airports.  They usually consist of me stepping up on top of a chair and beginning to speak out all kinds of riveting things about God.  Telling the people that there is something worthwhile to hope in.  Soon a crowd is gathering to hear the good news and even the security guards who should be taking action against me can’t help but pull up a chair and listen to the dramatic illustration of  the greatest love story of all time.  However, as I imagine these epic scenarios my legs grow vines that wrap around the base of my chair and pretty soon I have roots that go twenty feet deep into the floor.

And I get really uncomfortable.  Stuck in between what I long to do and what I’m really willing to carry out at this moment.  However, all my thoughts and prayers about wanting to do something worthwhile with my day of travel didn’t go to waste.  After sitting around thinking about things for a while it was time to board our plane.  And after taking my sweet time to get my things together we were the second to last people boarding the aircraft.  Not a big deal until we realized that this was an open seating flight and because of my slowness Jon and I were likely going to be sitting on opposite ends of the plane.  Awesome.

Luckily, when we walked onto the plane it was not a full flight but almost every middle seat was open.  Again, really awkward.   Airports are awkward but it might be even more uncomfortable trying to choose which middle seat to take because you know that no matter who you sit next to they will be highly annoyed that someone ruined their opportunity for a spacious flight.  So we headed for the back of the plane hoping to find a few seats still open for us.  Near the back there were a few rows left with only one person seated so I carefully scanned each person, sizing them up, trying to determine their level of awkwardness so that i could choose who would be the least awkward person to sit next to.  There was a younger guy reading a book with headphones on that looked strangely angry and a middle age businessman that seemed to have some allergy symptoms going on so i took the middle seat next to a friendly looking 60-ish year-old Indian woman who was quietly playing with her phone.  She looked safe and i figured she may not even speak English, therefore making her a promising candidate for my flight company.

She didn’t say much at first and eventually we made a little bit of small talk, exchanging our names and such.  I pulled out my pillow to prepare to sleep through the next one hour and forty-one minutes of air time, but instead the thought crossed my mind that maybe a second best option to dramatic airport preaching, was to explore a little with my neighbor.  Besides, Jesus not only preached to crowds but he made time for a bunch of people along the way.

I’m glad I made that decision because I spent the next hour and thirty minutes listening intently to this woman tell me all about her experiences in India and in America, about her two college-aged sons, about the changing social and family trends in the US, and about the heartbreak surrounding her husband running off with his secretary last year. She told me how she loved the independence and freedom that America had given her because as a 5’6″ woman who prefered pants over lavish dresses that reached the floor, in India she was often mocked for her giant-like height and tom-boy appearance.  But she said the price she paid for her independance was the slow but steady breakdown of her family and the independant spirit that had caused her boys to move far away from home and that lead her husband to cheat on her for over three years in her own home.  She also told me about how she was a Muslim and how her husband was a Hindu, but that in India everyone is either Muslim, Hindu or Catholic and that religion is all just ways of teaching your children family values anyway so it was easy for them to coexist together in different religions.

It’s funny because I find that talking to people about Jesus is fairy easy when they don’t have much of a religious background, but I’ve always had a bit of an issue talking about Jesus with people who are already devoted to another religion.  I’m not sure why, but the thought has always made me feel a little bit intimidated and small and I quickly become afraid to offend.  So depsite my fear I decided to be brave and I asked her what she thought about Jesus.  And to be honest it didn’t really go anywhere too deep because she stated simply that he was a prophet just like Muhammad.  However a few minutes later after a solid hour and a half of listening, God gave me an eleven minute window to share my testimony and the truth about what God had done in my life over the past couple years.

I don’t know exactly what that woman, whose name I still find difficult to pronounce, thought about everything I shared.  Our flight ended shortly after I finished my story and after a few kind remarks we parted ways as I headed off to baggage claim.  But you never know what God will do with the tremendous seeds that we plant for His sake.  And for myself personally, it was a great life lesson because I don’t always choose the path of friendliness, of having time to hear someone out, or the one where you choose to get over the awkwardness and start a conversation, but I do know that I seldom regret being that kind of person.

I pray for that sweet woman.  God loves her very much and I pray she comes to realize just how sweet it is to trust in Jesus.