Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

Merry Christmas to all! This year I have had such a lovely, wonderful Christmas.  I received a new cross that is smaller than my other cross and I can wear it daily.  I'm very excited about it.  I think one of my favorite gifts is my Beatles blanket that my fantastic mom surprised me with.

It's been such a great day. First going to Christmas Liturgy and hearing my brothers chant the service.  Then we all had a feast together while opening presents.  The tree was overflowing with presents.

I even got to see friends and family last Wednesday, and God willing, I will be able to see even more this week! And I took a good picture of Mimi and Granddaddy in their new scarves. They loved them.  Granddaddy was especially happy that his scarf would match his nice jacket. 

I hope everyone had as blessed a Christmas as I did!

Christ is born! Glorify Him!

That's Why I Say Thanks Every Day

So today I have been listening to a song from Veggie Tales. It's from the Madame Blueberry episode and it's called the Thankfulness Song. It's probably my favorite Veggie Tales song.  It made me think about how so many of us live today without being truly thankful.  I know I do.  It's a struggle for me to remember that when I can't find the right shoes or I want more clothes that I have plenty of clothes and clean clothes, too.  Just a few blocks away from my house is our community center and homeless shelter, and what a strong reminder that is to be thankful! But it's also much easier to be thankful for the good things like having clean clothes and food and a comfortable home to live in.  It's really hard to be thankful for the difficult things that happen.  Like in the song, the kids are thankful despite their families being poor because they can spend time with their families, which is more important to them than material goods.  I think we should all look to the kids singing this song and be a little more thankful for all that we have.  Because, as we all know from this song, a thankful heart is a happy heart.  I always feel more peaceful and content with the world when I'm thankful for everything I have.
A big family, my mom and dad, a comfortable home, nice clothes, plenty of shoes, a well-paying job, the opportunity to go to school, my dogs, my friends, a nice church, books to read, movies to watch with my brother, plenty of food, being able to save up for a new car, for a God who really cares, for His love for us.
That's why I say thanks every day.

Evie, Part One

She had been running for what felt like ages. Her entire body ached, her heart pounded, and her head throbbed from exhaustion.  But she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.  Suddenly, a tiny light appeared ahead of her.  It seemed a great distance between her and the light, and for a few minutes it did not get any closer.  She felt her feet begin to stumble. Slowing her pace she corrected her steps and sped up again.  The light began getting closer and bigger.  She had never wanted anything more in her life than to stand in the light. She was running harder than ever.  Faster and faster, until finally she was immersed in a blinding light.  All her exhaustion and hurt melted away, and she was never happier than in that moment.  But then the moment passed and the fatigue and pain came storming back to her.  She collapsed into a pile on the ground.  She couldn't move, even breathing hurt.  She tried to lie still to ease the pain, but that hurt, too.  All she felt was pain.  All she wanted was to be in a warm bed, and to sleep for days.  However, all her effort, all that running, was in vain.  In her fragile state, she had forgotten, even only for a few moments, of what she was running from.  Suddenly she remembered, and picking herself up was the hardest thing she ever had to do.  But she did it, and kept on going.  Soon she found a shelter hewn out of the rock and decided to stay there for a while.  She didn't dare light a fire, but she was safe enough to get some sleep. She laid down beside a large rock in order to sufficiently hide herself from onlookers.  For many minutes she laid awake, trying to keep herself alert despite her exhaustion.  Eventually her eye lids became too heavy and an unrestful sleep overcame her.

On a bright and sunny day, a small child played with her big sister in a field near their home.  A home that they shared with their father and older brother.  Her mother left about a year before, and they never really knew what had become of her.  It was certainly an uncommon thing to happen in those parts, but it happened nonetheless.  At first they thought she may have been kidnapped or killed, that is until the letter came.  They had received a letter from her just a few weeks after she disappeared.  It said that she wanted to travel the world and be more than just a farmer's wife.  She wanted adventure and excitement.  Father wouldn't even finish reading the letter. He stopped after she said she wanted to travel, and then he worked outside for the rest of the day. He talked about her seldom, and never very lovingly.  It made Evie wonder if her mother hadn't left for good reason.  Her father was not a mean man, but he was not a kind man either.  He was cold and stiff, but virtuous and always provided for his family.  Evie loved her father, but he was not someone that she wanted to stay with forever.   

Evie was laying in the field looking up at the sky while her sister Rose played with the dandelions.  Rose was a particularly peculiar child.  She was immensely smart and had a wild imagination.  Evie, who was quite smart herself, but maybe not as smart as Rose, had a sensible perspective on life.  She did not have the vivid imagination that belonged to her sister.  She was more practical and realistic.  Their older brother, Roger, was stern and stoic.  He always followed the rules no matter what, and he never played silly games.  He was a kind-natured boy, but never really had any fun.  His mother left to have fun, so what use could it be?  

Evie and Rose spent most of their time together.  They had become quite close over the last year, helping each other cope with their loss.  Rose had always hoped they could venture out and find her someday.  Evie was less enthusiastic about this idea.  They never even mentioned it to Roger or their father.  But often in their field they would talk about what it would be like to see her again, and where she might be or what she might be doing.  Today they were doing just that.  "I wonder if she's famous somewhere," Rose said while picking the dandelions.  "I bet these would look nice in a big house where she lives."

"I doubt she has a big house.  And she's not famous.  We certainly would have heard something about her if she was," Evie explained.  "Besides, she has nothing to live on."

"I'm sure she has something.  She can't just be sleeping anywhere with nowhere to live."

"Well, maybe she is.  We'll probably never know."

"Oh, we'll find her one day.  And then we'll know."

"All right, sure." 

Evie struggled to not make her sister sad, but also to not get her hopes up.  She wanted to have hope, too, but she couldn't imagine that she'd ever see her mother again.  Or that she even wanted to see her again.

Before she realized it, two figures were walking towards the sisters through the field.  They moved smoothly and swiftly, almost gliding, and were odd-looking.  One was quite tall and lanky, and the other was short and stout.  They wore dark shabby clothes and each carried in one hand a strange hat.  Evie had never seen hats like these, and she couldn't figure out where these men had come from.  She was frightened, but did not want to scare Rose, so she remained calm.  

"Excuse me," said the short man with a high-pitched voice.  "Where might we find a place to stay around here?"

"Oh, um..." Evie hesitated.  "I'm...I'm not exactly sure.  I think there's a place about 10 miles south. Or southeast.  I'm not entirely sure of it's location."

"Nothing closer than that?" the short man asked.

"No, I don't think so," Evie replied.

"Is your father at home?" the taller man asked in a grumbly voice.

"Um...uh, yes, I...yes, he is."

"May we speak with him then? Maybe he can give us better direction," the taller man said.  There was something about these men that made Evie uneasy.  She couldn't quite tell what it was. Maybe their strange appearance, or maybe their greasy manners, or maybe even the fact that they had no problem approaching two young girls in the middle of nowhere.  

"Certainly," Evie glanced at Rose uneasily.  "You can follow me. C'mon, Rose."

The two men followed Evie back to her house, which was a good 7 or 8 minute walk from the field.  No one said a word on the way, although Evie wanted to say something to break the awkwardness, but she didn't. She was too afraid.  Finally they reached the house.  She called out to her father and sent Rose inside to her room.  Her father came outside and greeted the men with obvious unease.  He gave them directions to an inn, but they continued to talk for several minutes.  Evie wished she could hear what was being said.  She barely noticed her brother walk out onto the porch.  She even jumped when he asked what was going on.  

"You startled me," she exclaimed.  "I guess these two men are lost or on a journey or something.  They need a place to stay."

"Certainly don't like the looks of them. Where do they come from?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't like them either."

"Can't be too careful these days."

"Yeah. Maybe they're..."

"Let's not speculate.  Let's just send them on their way and forget about it."

But their father was not sending them on their way.  In fact it seemed more like he was inviting them to stay.  "Children, these men are going to stay with us tonight.  Go and get dinner ready.  Evie, you and Rose will have to give up your room.  You can sleep in Roger's room on the floor.  Mr. Coakley," he gestured to the tall man, "and Mr. Brant are welcome to stay with us as long as they need to."

It was very unlike their father to invite guests over, especially strangers, but Evie did not argue.  She quietly went inside to fix dinner, feeling nervous as ever.  

May Their Memories Be Eternal

It seems ages ago that the two towers fell on 9/11, but then again, it seems hardly any time has passed at all.  It sounds weird to say it was 10 years ago.  What a long time, and yet what a short time. That's not even half of my life.
I had just turned twelve in 2001, just a few days before 9/11.  I remember being in school already sitting in choir when people started talking about it, starting say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. As a twelve year old, I didn't know what that was or where it was, but it sounded important. I remember thinking to myself what a weird thing to happen. So far it sounded like an accident from what people around school were saying, but it didn't seem like such a thing could happen on accident. Then we left choir and I headed to French class. We did not study French that day. The TV was on and immediately I saw what was going on.  "ATTACK ON AMERICA" was the headline in enormous letters across the bottom of the screen.  I was horrified.  We watched the news all throughout class and witnessed the second plane hitting the second tower, we watched the anchors tell us about the plane that hit the Pentagon, and the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania due to the bravery of its passengers.
Now of course only being in middle school, when my classmates and I saw "ATTACK ON AMERICA" we assumed it could be an attack everywhere.  We were scared it would hit other parts of the country, and maybe even our region or city.  My french teacher, who was a wonderful lady, Mme. Milstead, assured us that we not get hit. "Nashville would only be a target if the people who did this really hated country music." I gasped, and she laughed.  Then I realized it was only a joke to make a point, that we were fine.
But the people in the planes, in the towers, on the streets of New York, in the Pentagon, the police officers and firefighters were not fine.  I can't imagine what it was like being there dealing with the dust and debris and bodies that littered the streets, trying to save everyone possible.
My cousin, Stepha, in her blog Life of Fiction, wrote about 9/11 too. She mentioned that she feels like God was with those people that day.  And that she doesn't know how, but it comforts her to think that.  I watched a show the other day about two port authority employees who saved about 70 people as they descended the North Tower, but were killed when the tower collapsed.  That shows me that God was with them that day.  On ESPN they were talking about a young man who worked in the towers (but who wanted instead to become a firefighter) and how he saved 12 people before dying himself.  They were able to find his body because he always carried a red bandana and the people he saved remembered his red bandana. His family knew what he did because of that bandana.  God was with him that day.
As you can imagine watching those shows, I wept until I could barely see.  Watching the towers fall is an image that I will never forget.  Who knew I could still cry for complete strangers ten years later.
Shortly after the attacks on 9/11, a family friend who lives in New York sent us an email telling her story of 9/11.  She worked near the WTC and was out on the street when one of the towers fell.  She was thrust into a cloud of dust and debris, no way to see anything.  But she guided herself along a building until she found a door and she burst through, coughing up debris and dust as she sucked in clean air.  All I could think while reading her email was how frightening it must have been.  After a few hours she made it to a friends to clean up and eventually made it back home to her boyfriend.  Obviously, she was one of the lucky ones.
So on this the 10th anniversary of the attacks on 9/11 I remember and pray for those who died, those who survived, those who were lucky, those who weren't, and especially those who fought to save others- the first responders and the employees who helped their coworkers at the cost of their own life.  I remember the passengers on Flight 93 who so bravely fought the hijackers and gave their lives for it, and for those who died in the Pentagon attack as well.  May their memories be eternal and I pray that they are now with God where they will suffer no more.

Please, Please Me...

So I've been lazy and missed a couple of Fridays' worth of posts. But I'm back now, and I'll begin with a couple songs from Please Please Me, which was the Beatles debut album.

The first song is the title track, "Please Please Me". Written by John Lennon, the song was an hommage to Roy Orbison. It was released on March 22, 1963. I love this live version I found.

The second song is from the same album, and it's called "PS I Love You". It was written by Paul McCartney and first released on the B side of "Love Me Do". What an adorable song!

My third and final song of the day is one from a later album of the Beatles. "Eight Days a Week" is the eighth track on their album Beatles for Sale, which was released on December 4th, 1964. It is a Lennon-McCartney creation and was their No. 7 hit in the US within a year. I've known this song for as long as I can remember and I completely adore it.

"I See the Light"

It's certainly no secret that I absolutely love Disney movies. Pretty much everyone who knows me knows that Beauty and the Beast is my favorite movie of all time. I have watched it so many times that I can recite the words to the entire movie while watching it. Disney movies are always my feel good, pick me up movies and they make me feel all warm and safe. That is until the credits start rolling and I come back into reality. That's when I start to feel the ache. Not a physical ache, but a mental or emotional ache. It's a longing for something exciting, some adventure where my moral stamina and resourcefulness are put to the test. An adventure where I meet a dashing young man who seems different from me at first, but actually complements me perfectly. A young man that I will fall in love with and he would love me, too.

I know it seems overly romantic, but I want something exciting to happen and I want to fall in love. Why not have them together? It could happen, right?

I will say most of the time I don't have that longing feeling. Only every now and then will it creep up on me, and then I'm sent into a whirlwind of emotion about how I want to be in love, and will I ever have someone to love me and hold me? I have never really been in love, and I try to wait for that patiently. My priest told me once not to worry about dating or trying to have a relationship, and that God will provide. I wholeheartedly agree with that. I'm not out trying to find someone, I'm not running around desperately trying to meet guys and date everyone who comes my way. But I can't help wondering when I will meet my dashing young man. Sometimes I even ask myself if I will ever meet him.

Oddly enough my grandparents are the two people who are most concerned about me getting married. Every time I talk to them they ask if have a boyfriend, and as usual I respond "no". Then they tell me that they'll look around and sometimes they even want me to meet someone. I think they've sort of given up on the idea that I will get married soon because my grandmother has a set of silver that she wants to give to me when I get married. She has always said that it will be my wedding gift and there's even a note inside that says so. But one day when I was about 18 or 19 she mentioned that the silver would be my wedding gift, and then she followed that statement with something I had never heard before. She added, "Or you can have it whenever you want." Ouch. I guess she meant she's not confident she'll be at my wedding, which I certainly won't think about either.

There's a song in Tangled, my newest Disney obsession, called "I See the Light" and it's my favorite. It's where Rapunzel and Flynn realize they love each other and it's super adorable and romantic. I guess I just want to "see the light" and I'm hoping it comes sooner rather than later. But all I can do is wait patiently. And that's the worst part. Waiting. Waiting for my Flynn Rider, so to speak. Until then, I'll just have to do what I can to shake this dreary feeling, and remember all the good things I have.

This One's a Fiver...

Yep, that's right we're doing five songs today. Plus a bonus video! So I guess 6. It's a sixer. Okay, let's get to it.

The first video is a song I only recently discovered. It's called "Something" and it was written by George Harrison. It is his one of his best songs and is the second most covered Beatles' song next to "Yesterday". It is from their Abbey Road album, which was their last that they recorded together, even though Let it Be was released after Abbey Road. Anyway, it's a beautiful song and I absolutely adore it.

This next song, "I Wanna Be Your Man" was released on the album With the Beatles in 1963. It is sung by Ringo, and it's a helluva good time. This version is a live version from Paris. Oh to see them live, what a wonderful notion.

Up next, "Drive My Car". A song that I grew up listening to and have always loved. It's so fun. It was recorded and released for their 1965 album Rubber Soul.

Another song from Abbey Road, "Come Together" has been one of those songs I've always known. I can't even remember the first time I heard it. Still, I love it just the same.

The song "Blackbird" has always been very special to me. My stepdad played it for me on his guitar frequently enough that eventually I asked him to play it every time I saw him with his guitar. I love this song, of course. It was part of The White Album released in 1968, and I can never hear it enough.

Drum roll, please, Ringo!! My special bonus video is one of my favorite songs by The Beatles, and is a live version from Shea Stadium in New York in 1965. The song was released on their album Help! in 1965 and I think it's so fun. Even though the lyrics aren't very fun, the melody and their enthusiasm makes it a great time to listen to this song, and watch them play it. It's called "I'm Down" and I've posted it before, but I love this version. With Paul screaming all over the place and John and George laughing so much they can barely sing, it's great.

I hope you enjoyed all the videos and songs! Good night and God bless!

One part Beatles, One Part Rainboots

So I have definitely slacked off in my weekly appreciate The Beatles posts. So here's a small one to get back into the routine.

I adore this one. And I adore Paul and his goofy sense of humor.

Another great, lesser known one.

Another thing on my mind is my new J.Crew rainboots! They arrived Wednesday and I have been anxiously and eagerly awaiting some rain so that I can wear them. They are bright red and beautiful! I adore them!

(Photo Credit: J.Crew)

Another great thing about my new boots, they have a zipper that goes all the way down the back, so they're super easy to get on and off. Wonderful! And they fit like a dream. I couldn't love them more!

Goodnight and God bless,

Bella

Part 4

Once again it's Friday, and it's time for my weekly Beatles appreciation day. So let's get right to it this time. Today I'm doing some of their earlier songs with some of their later songs. Enjoy!

"What filthy ways are these?"

Love this movie!

Becoming a Writer

So I just watched a Lifetime movie (and I'm not ashamed at all) about the life of J.K. Rowling and her long journey towards becoming a published writer, and might I add an incredibly successful published writer. It was an adorable movie that brought out all my feelings about the one thing I want to do in my lifetime. Be a writer. No, no, that's not it. Be a published writer. Every moment of every day I am, I guess I would say, "narrating" everything that is happening around me, as if I was writing a book. I create stories in my head of why things are happening or why people do what they do. Someone flicking a cigarette on the ground becomes a tale of why they began smoking, and what happens to that cigarette butt after they've flicked it out of their hands, who passes by it, steps on it, etc. A boy and a girl walking down the street becomes a story of their relationship, how they met, how they feel about each other, and whether they'll end up estranged from one another, married, or maybe, if I'm in a tragedy mood, how one of them will die young. I even have a scene in my head, that I should probably write down somewhere (even though it's a rough sketch) about a young woman playing with her baby, except she's crying because something horrible has happened to the man she loves.

Even just now I looked down at my snoring, sleeping dog, and watching her I began to formulate a story about a girl who's closest companion is her dog and they'll have wonderful adventures. And that's where my problem begins. I think of a story and the moment I try to come up with all the details it scatters and becomes so jumbled in my thoughts that I can hardly begin to write it.

I think of all the great authors I love, J.K. Rowling, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis (ha, I could be C.S. Herron), Jane Austen (and of course the list goes on and on), and I want so badly to be able to do what they did. To write wonderful stories and bring such beloved characters into the world. But I have to refine myself, refine my work and control it, which I am not very good at yet. It sounds weird, but I also have to let it free, let the creativity flow through my pen. Yes, I write all my stories, not type them. I have a massive load of journals with unfinished stories. They are unfinished and unread. There was a part in the movie about J.K. Rowling when she was teenager and applying to college, and her friend told her that if she wanted to be a writer she had to let someone read her work and she said no one could read her stuff because she hadn't written anything that came to life yet. That's exactly how I feel. I feel mundane about all my ideas so far. Nothing has really spoken to me...yet. I hope very soon that I can produce something good. Something really good.

Fridays are my favorite.

My adoration and appreciation of The Beatles continues with my weekly posting of their songs. This time I'm mixing a couple of their more well-known songs with a couple of their lesser well-known songs. Hope you enjoy!

Of course the always fun "Twist n Shout".

I love this one a lot. This is one of my favorite parts of Help! It's so great.

I love that Ringo is singing this one. Love these boys!

The Beatles Friday

Yay, it's here again! My favorite day of the week- Friday (and not just because I get to post Beatles' songs today). I've been looking forward to this post since last Friday. I even wrote down which songs I would choose to post for the next 5 weeks. A bit over-the-top? Yes it is. All right, let's get on with it.

This first one is a suggestion from a dear friend, Beth Hopkins. I hadn't heard this song before she sent me the link and I absolutely love it. It's so fun! Well, the tune is fun, but the lyrics are actually pretty sad. Still, the boys make it fun, so we'll have a good time anyways.

This next one (yes, I'm posting more than one this time because I couldn't choose) is one of my favorites to watch. They must have been so amazing to see live. I can only dream.

This third one is from their movie "Help!" It's a great song and the video is super fun. Also, I would give my right eyebrow to be that girl in Paul's arms.

Last, but not least, another suggestion from dear Beth. Thanks, Beth!

Happy Listening!

A Few More of My Favorite Things

After a long day at work, with another long day of work ahead of me tomorrow, it's nice to think I can escape for a few moments before I go to sleep with a look at some of my favorite things.

Certainly these handsome young lads always make me smile.

Especially Paul...he's my favorite. <3

What a great smile.

Speaking of the 60's, I love bold graphic patterns like the one on this sofa.

How very mod.

One of my favorite stores- Anthropologie. A lovely, unique place with clothes that are way too expensive for me. But I still look at their items online and covet almost everything I see.

And of course...

Red.

Happy Sunday! And God bless!

The Beatles Fridays

So I've decided to start something new on my blog. It will be a weekly dedication to arguably the most talented group of guys ever, and naturally my favorite band- The Beatles.

I've always liked The Beatles, even as a young child my brothers and I would play their songs and pretend to be them while singing along. Only recently did I realize how much I like them, that in fact I would consider them my favorites. For awhile I never had an answer to the question "who's your favorite band?" because I like a lot of different music, but the one constant through my life (in regards to music) is The Beatles. Of course, everyone likes The Beatles, and knows they're most famous songs, but I'd like to think my appreciation goes beyond that, especially since I probably have more of their songs in my itunes than anything else.

So here's to the Fab Four. (This has to be one of my favorite songs by them. Also my favorite movie they've made.)

Friendship Dance

So I've been dancing around this topic for a few days now, trying to decide how to write about my experience the other morning when I went to a "friendship dance" at the ESY (Extended School Year) for kids with Autism and Asperger's. What I've been struggling with most while trying to write is how to tell my story without boasting about what I did. So here it goes, I'm finally giving it a shot. I guess we'll just have to see how this turns out.

First, a little background. My mom is a special education teacher at one of the county high schools and every summer since we moved to Chattanooga she had taught at ESY Autism and Asperger's. Each summer they have a "friendship dance" where the kids, who are middle school and high school aged, are encouraged to socialize and interact with new people. And since most of the students are boys, the teachers try to get more girls to come, which is helpful for the students to talk to new people and learn how to deal with new situations. I went a couple years ago, but for some reason this time seemed more rewarding personally and had more of an impact on me.

Now let me also say that I was not looking forward to waking up somewhat early to go dance awkwardly for an hour and a half. But my mom asked me to come and I certainly wasn't going to say no. It wasn't that I didn't want to go, but I just didn't want to wake up early. I'm not a morning person in any way and I loathe waking up before 10:00am. But I made myself get up a little before 8 and get ready to be at the school by 9am. When I arrived my mom came out to meet me in the parking lot and I followed her to her classroom where she introduced me to all the students before I went to the cafeteria and waited on everyone to arrive.

I have to admit Autism is very interesting to me because of how varied the symptoms are. Some of the kids were more talkative, some hardly spoke. Some were excited to dance, while other were nervous or even distraught by the idea. Some danced quite well and knew most of the songs, while others seemed more awkward and less connected to their surroundings. It was interesting to see how everyone was so different. During the first few songs I was "dancing" (and by that I mean kind of swaying back forth) near my mom and she pointed out a boy named Michael to me and asked if I would go ask him to dance. She said he be very polite, but probably say no. She said she wanted me to ask him anyway so he could have some interaction. I guess he was very shy and no one was very confident that he would dance at all. So a few songs later, she motioned towards him with her head and I walked over and asked if he would like to dance. "Um, no thank you, but you can ask me later," was his very polite answer.

Eventually the teachers formed a soul train line and got everyone up to dance. Even Michael went through a couple times. Afterwards he was standing nearby when I was dancing with another student so I told him to join us. He walked over and began dancing with us. I made eye contact with my mom and smiled. A few more songs played and I sat down beside him at a table. Then I said, "Well, you said I could ask you later, and now it's later. Would you like to dance?" Michael Jackson's thriller was playing so we talked a little about the steps to the dance for Thriller and then we got up and joined my mom for the rest of the song. And for the next 3 or 4 songs he stayed and danced with me. He was such a sweet kid, it was joy to talk with him and play air guitar, which was his favorite move. After the dance ended I said my goodbyes and went home. After I got home my mom called me and told me Michael told her he had a really good time. He said to thank me three times because I really boosted his confidence. I was really touched. I was definitely tearing up on my drive home even before I heard this. I was amazed at how wonderfully sweet Michael is and was to me. I always think of these kids as needing special attention and help and how much we can help them, but when I spent time with him, I was taken aback by how much he gave to me in return. He feels like I boosted his confidence, and I feel like he boosted mine. He helped me find that person inside of me that can be good to anyone and everyone, that person who gets lost throughout my daily life that I fill with stressful moments and complaining because someone in the car in front of me isn't going fast enough. It had been awhile since someone really brought that person back to me, and I'm so grateful to Michael for bringing that out of me. Really all the kids reminded me that I need to hold onto to that better person that I know I can be, and that I should remember that more often, and be that person even when I don't want to.

Summer Projects

This summer has brought new challenges for me. With my brother getting married I am out of a roommate (but I'd much rather have a new sister than a roommate), so now I have to go searching for a new roomie and a new apartment. While I'm doing this, I am staying with my parents. It's a tight fit, and all my stuff is in boxes (some in storage too), but at least this gives me a chance to save up money and it gives me some time to redo my furniture. When I moved into my last apartment the walls were stark white and there was no chance of painting them, so I went with blue and cream as my color scheme. I painted my dresser a light turquoise and off-white. It was a very funky look. Also, I painted my formerly wood-stained bed frame off-white. Clearly I did not think my color scheme through very well because the whole time I lived there I was yearning for something red. Yes, red is my favorite color. Now, I don't fully agree with that statement because I really love all the colors. My "color of the moment" as I like to call it, changes frequently, but my constant go-to, must-have color is red. I adore red. Unfortunately there was no red in my room at my apartment. What was I thinking?! I was trying to do something different, but somethings will always stay the same. So with new prospects ahead of me I decided I would take some time to redo my furniture in a scheme that is more suiting to me. Meaning, I'm adding a splash of red.

First is my dresser. I've been thinking of redoing it for a long time and I have finally come up with 3 options.

Option 1: I will paint it white and cover it in old sheet music. This would be the most time- consuming, and was my original idea.

Option 2: Instead of covering the entire dresser in sheet music, I would paint the outside white and cover only the drawer fronts. This would be a less busy design and give more freedom to the other colors I use in my room.

Option 3: A far cry from the above ideas, my third is to paint my dresser white and do a nautical design. (I found these pillows on Etsy, and they are perfect for a nautical theme.)

Maybe I'll paint my new drawer pulls red or blue, or add an anchor print to the drawer fronts. We'll see, this idea is still in the works.

Now for the hardest part, choosing which one to do. I did go to the store today and bought some new brushes, white paint, drop cloth, and...red spray paint! Yes, lots of red spray paint, which will be used for another project in the not-too-distant-future. Stay tuned for updates on my projects for my "new" furniture!

Wedding Day!

As many of you know, yesterday my brother Sam was married to my former roommate Christina. It was an absolutely wonderful day, and I'm so grateful that I was a part of it. I couldn't help but think of how great it is to have someone I can call my sister. I always wanted a sister growing up, and my parents always tried to persuade me otherwise, but I never stopped wanting a sister. It's not that I wanted to give up one of my brothers or even wanted my parents to have another child. Those thoughts never even occurred to me. I just wanted someone to talk to at the end of the day about boys or clothes or girly things. Someone who would go to the mall with just to walk around and look at clothes we couldn't afford. Someone to give fashion advice to and to get fashion advice from. Someone who was there every night when I got home and would share their day with me as I would with them. I thank God that this past year I got my lifelong wish. I know that Christina only officially became my sister (in-law) yesterday, but she has been a part of our family since she and my brothers moved to Chattanooga last summer. She and I roomed together in a tiny, crappy apartment, and she became that "sister" that I had always wanted. She's a wonderful person and has made my brother immensely happy.

Yesterday was such a joy for all of us. Everyone all dressed up and looking beautiful. Everything finally coming together after months of stressful preparation. Christina looked gorgeous in her dress, but I honestly couldn't stop looking at my brother. I've never seen him so happy before. Every time during the service the priest said "married" or "husband" or "wife" he would smile and glance at her. A few times he caught my brother Nathan's eye and just grin at him. It was so wonderful to see him so happy.

I love them both very much and I'm so grateful to have been a part of their wedding. I can't wait to watch them continue building their lives together. May God grant them many years!

A Few of My Favorite Things

So, today was tough. It just wasn't very good. Some things are happening that upset me and I'm just uncertain about a lot of stuff, mostly about what I'll be doing this summer in terms of living arrangements, etc. Got a lot of things on my mind right now, and of course it's finals week. I need to relax, and take a little break from everything tonight. So I'm going to borrow from Julie Andrews. Here's a few of my favorite things.

J'adore J.Crew!

I bought roses just like this for my mom last year. They were absolutely gorgeous and I fell in love with lavender roses!

Red is my favorite color. I absolutely love it. Especially when it comes to flowers. When I see something red, it always makes me feel better.

Breakfast at Tiffany's. What more can I say? It's my go-to feel-good movie. I would say it's my number two favorite movie...

...next to Beauty and the Beast. My all time favorite movie, it brings me joy every time I watch it. Which is quite often. I can actually recite the entire movie while I watch it. And I'm not ashamed. I love it that much.

Finally, I love all things British. From tea to their accents to the Royal Family. Of course, I adore the Royal Family! Especially those adorable princes. And don't they look so cute in their uniforms? (I also like guys in uniform, so that works, too.)

Here they are again at a polo match look very cute in their, ahem, uniforms.

And there we go. I feel better already. I love J.Crew, and flowers, and all things red. I love Breakfast at Tiffany's and Beauty and the Beast, and British princes. I think some English tea and watching Breakfast at Tiffany's are in store for me now.

"When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad."

- Sound of Music "My Favorite Things"

Death of an Enemy

I was at Mellow Mushroom tonight with my friend Nancy after work, and I looked up at the TV which said "Osama Bin Laden has been killed" in big bold white letters. The volume was not turned on, so we didn't know how or when, but I went home and saw an email from the Washington Post that said he had been killed in a CIA operation and President Obama would be announcing it tonight from the White House. I wanted to say I was glad, I wanted to feel relief. But that wasn't what I felt at all. I checked on Facebook to see what everyone was saying. There were funny posts, patriotic posts, excited posts. My uncle was the only one I saw with a status reflecting Christian views in that the death of another human being is not a joyful event. I couldn't help but express my feelings that I'm an Orthodox Christian before I'm an American, and I certainly love my country, and understand why we killed him, but I cannot rejoice. That's still one more person who will never again have the opportunity to repent, and that is a terrible thing. I'm not saying it wasn't necessary, I'm sure many innocent lives are spared now, but he's still a person made in the image of God. I've never really thought about that when I looked at him. Honestly, it just came to me now. Osama Bin Laden was made in the image of God. What a powerful realization. Until now, I never realized the true meaning of that statement. I've always thought about that statement in regards to my friends or people in need, but never have I envisioned our enemies. I'm stunned. I feel speechless. I don't know how to describe how mind-boggling that is to me. All I can say is holy crap.

I wanted to write on Facebook "May God have mercy on him." I chickened out. Instead I put "Lord have mercy." I didn't want people to think that I wished Osama wasn't dead. That's certainly not the case. I'm just sad that we live in a world where killing is necessary. Where we have made killing necessary. So I'll say it now. May God have mercy on his soul. Having finally said that, I want to clarify one thing. I don't want God to have mercy on Osama for his own sake. I want God to have mercy on him for my sake. For everyone else's sake. I can only hope that the mercy of God is so great that he could bestow it upon a man like Osama. I don't know if that's possible, only God knows, but that certainly would be spectacular for the rest of us.

I also wanted to be relieved because I wish that Bin Laden's death meant the end of the war. But I know that is not what it means. Yes, it is a victory for the US, but I know that our troops won't be coming back and retaliation will come eventually. Sooner or later there will be more fighting, and more destruction because terror will never end. This "War on Terror" will never end. Until the second coming we will always be fighting against terrorist forces, maybe not in the Middle East, maybe not the terrorist forces we know now, but terror and evil will always rear it's ugly head in our world and it's a never-ending fight.

So with all this running through my head, I really don't have any room to be happy. The taking away of a human life is always disturbing to me, no matter how "necessary" it is. All I can do is pray. Lord Have Mercy.

Lord Have Mercy

Ok, something just occurred to me after I wrote my post about being tested. I didn't recognize it at first, but what timing that I chose to write about that right after the Southeast was hit so hard by tornadoes on Wednesday, which was the worst tornado storms we've had in the US in 40 years. I just wanted to add to my previous thoughts that I think natural disasters are some of the most difficult tests of faith. So many people ask the age old question, why did God let that happen? With so many people's homes and businesses destroyed and friends and family members injured or killed, it's easy to ask why. It's easy to be angry about it and blame God for all the devastation.

Wednesday while I was watching the news after the first "round" of storms hit, one of the news stations was doing a story about a home in Chattanooga that was completely enveloped by a fallen tree. You couldn't even see the house through all the branches that fell around it. They interviewed a woman who lived on one side of the duplex, and she told her story about how she was home with her kids, and just started praying because they were scared. Moments later the tree fell on top of their home, and she grabbed her crying little ones and ran to her neighbors house. While she's telling her story, she stopped and said "God is good! He is so good to me!" She was so thankful that her kids were safe and uninjured, she didn't spend time being angry about her roof collapsing, or the giant tree that covered her home. She was thankful. What an uplifting thing to hear among all the sorrow and devastation. God is good. He certainly doesn't want to see us suffering, and giving thanks for the little things (or not so little things) like your family's safety, or a helping hand, it certainly makes the devastation less daunting. Turn to God in all situations, but especially horrible situations like this, and He will provide.

So to everyone out there who is suffering, my prayers go out to you. I thank God I'm one of the lucky ones with no damage to my house, but I've been keeping up with the news and the damage out there is unimaginable. The death toll is rising, people are without homes. It's an awful sight to behold. All I can say is Lord have mercy.

We are always tested

Christ is Risen!

It's been a month since I last posted on here. I've been staring at the little bookmark I have entitled "my blog" for some time now, wondering what to write. Sometimes I even clicked on it, but never succeeded in writing anything. But last night a dear friend reminded me of something very important and very true. Paraphrased, she said I guess God never stops testing you. So even though it's Bright week, our struggles don't just go away. And although my joy for the resurrection seems infinite right now, I still struggle (and fail) everyday with sin and with being a better Christian.

Now all that is not to say that Bright Week isn't special. It most certainly is, and it's one of my favorite times of the year. There is nothing more beautiful to me than the Paschal Liturgy. I love everything about it, especially singing Christ is Risen as loud as possible, and hearing everyone around me singing as loudly as they can. It makes my heart swell with joy. And for forty days we sing Christ is Risen and celebrate the Resurrection. Forty days! It must be pretty special to warrant 40 days of preparation (Lent) and 40 days of celebration! And it is. It's the most wonderful thing to ever happen. The best day of the year, every year.

Yet, we have to accept it in our hearts and love God for His infinite mercy and love. We have to keep ourselves from slipping away from Him. We desperately need the Resurrection. We cannot survive without it. And while Bright Week is meant to be a time of happiness and celebration (who doesn't love an entire week dedicated to not fasting?!) it is also a reminder that we need God. Our troubles still come back to us, our struggles are still ongoing during this happy time because we are fallen, but they are erased through God's everlasting love.

So, I'm encouraging you to remember that you will always struggle here in this world, but that through the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, we are with Him. We can always be with Him. So celebrate this wonderful news, but don't forget it's not over. We are always tested, each and every day.

God bless,

Bella

Goodbye, Camp

This summer I will not be returning to summer camp for the first time since I was 11, and specifically to Camp St. Thekla since I was 16. It would have been my fifth year on staff, but I decided it was time to let that go. I knew last summer would be just that, my last summer. I didn't actually confirm it though because I wanted to enjoy the time for what is was and not spend my time being sad about not coming back. And it worked, I guess. I haven't been sad about not going back. The timing is right, I have too many other obligations for this summer, and I feel good about leaving. I wasn't upset about leaving, or not seeing my friends because I have so many ways of keeping in touch with them, and I know I've had many wonderful summers at camp. It's time for me to step aside and let someone else experience that too. I was completely comfortable with my decision to not go back until tonight. I don't want to say that I'm uncomfortable now, but I felt a twinge of sadness that turned into watery-eyed sadness when I thought about all the campers I loved, who loved me back, that I wouldn't see again. Particularly the girls from cabin 1, session 1 last summer. My wonderful girls who loved me so well, and made me smile every day. The girls who cried with me on the last night in our rooms and wrote me notes in my notebook on the last morning telling me they love me and saying goodbye. The girls who made me feel worthwhile. As a counselor I've never actually cried with my campers when they left, but those sweet young girls penetrated my defenses and pierced right through to my heart.

Also, my girls from 2nd session who were a very different group of girls, but still made their way into my heart forever with all of our late night talks and funny stories. Those sweet young girls and so many other campers who have impacted my life forever are what I regret about not going to camp this year. I don't regret my decision. It is necessary and right, but I will miss seeing all those smiling faces. I miss it most profusely.

I must admit I'm surprised at my reaction to all this. I saw some pictures of campers on Facebook and that's when all these sentiments hit me. It's surprising. I always thought it would be the other staff members that I missed most. However, they are not. I certainly do miss my dear friends from staff, and I'm better for knowing them, but not seeing them this summer does not make me sad. I know we're becoming adults (weird, huh) and at some point we have to leave camp for good. For some of us, it's part of growing up. It's the way it has to be, and I'm okay with that. I can still contact them whenever I like through many different means of communication. But the campers have clearly left an impression on me that I did not completely see at first, and now do. I don't completely understand it yet, but I know it will last a very long time. I am eternally grateful and will always miss those beautiful, smiling faces.

The Garden is coming together!

Today is an exciting day. I have officially finished my garden, which lays in my parent's front yard. Yesterday I got down and dirty and finished planting my flowers. I was unable to do it last week because everyday I had time, the weather didn't agree and rained a lot. Finally yesterday, even though it was a little chilly, I finished. Now I'm in the process of finishing some potted plants that will go on my parents' front porch and my back porch. I'm very excited because I have a lot of different, colorful flowers. Soon I'll post a list on here with pictures. So far my garlic has sprouted, which is wonderful because I only planted it about 2 weeks ago. And some of my flowers from last year have sprouted as well. I can't exactly remember which ones, but I'm pretty sure it's the daffodils. This morning I began potting the flowers for my back porch. I have an azalea, poppies, and some basil. Okay, a lot of basil. I also have a pot of basil at my parents house. We love fresh basil!

There's one thing I need to work on now. A name. Yes, I want a name for my garden. Suggestions and ideas are always welcome. :) Now I'm off to class!

God Bless,

Bella

True Forgiveness

Forgiveness Sunday, it's a day when you set aside all of the pettiness and anger against other people. You set it aside, and you don't pick it back up. It's gone forever...or at least it should be.

Every year when I participate in Forgiveness Sunday, I really hope that all the things I've been angry or upset or frustrated about are gone forever. Unfortunately, it's very difficult to succeed at this, at least for me anyway. At some point after I have cast aside my grievances, I begin to find them again. Whether it's the same week or next month, I pick them back up, and sometimes I don't even realize it until it's happened. Simply using past transgressions as ammo for an argument, or talking about them with others to express our anger with something, they come back. We let them come back. I let them come back. I've never really taken the time to sit down and think about this. How difficult it really is to forgive another! When God forgives us, He absolves our sins. They are gone, and we are clean again. It's a beautiful feeling to be forgiven, truly forgiven, but when we refuse to forgive each other we are robbing ourselves of God's grace and forgiveness.

I have to ask myself why I can't forgive as easily as I should. Who am I to hold onto past transgressions? Regardless of whether someone else is sorry or not, I'm no better if I cannot see past my own pride and forgive. Ah, there it is. Pride. We don't forgive because we are prideful. This person hurt me, and I have a right to be angry. They don't deserve my forgiveness. Here's the deal. Forgiveness is not about what you deserve. If that were the case, we'd all be in big trouble. Forgiveness is about love and mercy. God loves us, and chooses to forgive us no matter how many times we sin against Him. That is completely amazing to me! And we should learn to do the same. So as it is Forgiveness Sunday, I must ask. Please, forgive me a sinner.

God bless,

Bella

First Signs of Spring!

Today as I was walking to class (for midterms, yikes!) I took notice of all the little glimpses of spring that are beginning to emerge now that it's March. On my walk back from school after 3 hours of intense midterm-taking, I decided to relax by making my usually brisk walk into a stroll, and to take pictures of the first signs of spring. Here is my adventure.

A Bradford Pear tree blooming on campus. I love these because they bloom so early in the year. Of course, they smell bad, though. But they sure are pretty!

Now for a quick lunch at The Yellow Deli!

They had some beautiful flowers hanging outside.

More lovely flowers lining the entrance of TYD.

I pass this adorable house every time I walk to school, and I just love it.

The colors are very fresh and spring-y, and the garden is wonderful.

This was such a beautiful sight! Bradford Pears all the way down 8th Street.

It made my day!

The front yard of a wonderful little house. This rose bush and tree are brilliant!

Especially with the yellow flowers next to the fence.

A beautifully bright, but gloomy daffodil. It was overcast today.

Must have been missing the sun.

Even the tree in our front yard is budding!

It's going to be bright pink and beautiful!

Spring is truly my favorite time of year! I love that everything is beginning to bloom and produce new life. It makes me very happy.

God bless,

Bella

Put God First in Your Life, Everything Else Will Fall Into Place

AHH!!! Lent officially begins next week, but the fasting began today. No meat until Pascha. I have to admit I'm feeling unprepared. Even though I made sure to eat meat over the weekend to get my meat cravings out of the way, there's always that desire to eat meat because it feels forbidden. Luckily not eating meat is easier for me than cutting out dairy. I've never actually tried to not have dairy. I've had every intention of doing it before, even recently for Advent I was going to do my best to not eat dairy, but I gave up on that pretty quickly. This time I'm going to try again. One thing that might help is getting one new vegetable every time I go to the store. Something new to try so that I'm not bored with pasta and salad or soup all the time.

Something else I'm going to do that is new for me is concentrating on becoming a better, kinder person. In my Sunday school class yesterday I gave my kids a sort of assignment to do during Lent. I told them to keep a running total in their head every day of how many times they were mean to someone or did something that was not good. Then at night when they say their prayers at bedtime they could think about how many times they sinned that day and pray about it, and use it to make the next day better. It's a method a friend once suggested for me to use when I wanted to stop cursing. Making note of it would be motivation to do it less and less. I told the kids they didn't have to talk about what they did with anyone, but thinking about it makes it less justifiable or forgettable. I hope it helps them, even if they don't do it everyday. I certainly don't expect that they will do it every day. They probably don't even need to do it everyday, they're such good kids.

I pray that this Lent I can do more to better myself and firmly plant my faith and the Church as my first priority. Everything else fall into place once I really do that. An analogy that I remember from my Christian Ed class at Antiochian Village (my favorite one because it was taught by Sarah Finley, who is a wonderful teacher) goes like this. Life is like a jar that you place everything in. You must put the big things in first, meaning God, then your family, etc. because all the little things will fall into place and everything will fit in your jar. But if you put the small things in first, you won't have room for everything else. I do think I need to take time this Lent and reorganize my "jar".

God Bless,

Bella

Weight Loss Time

It's that time of year when people get self-concious about their bodies. When the new Spring collections are revealed and all the girls want to fit into those tiny sizes. I have never really participated in that. I like having a little meat on my bones, but over the winter I have gained more than I should or normally do, and I need to shed some pounds. My roommate and I made it into a challenge where we keep a chart on which we record our weight every day. Or are supposed to record our weight every day. That doesn't actually happen, and I don't like looking at the chart and seeing that I need to lose 30+ pounds while she doesn't even need to lose 10. Not very encouraging I must say because I always feel like I'm failing. I don't want to lose weight with someone who is already super skinny! (No offense, Christina, you look great.) So I'm going to keep up with my weight and process here so that I have a place of my own where I don't have to compare myself with anyone else. So here we go.

Current Weight: 177

Goal Weight: 134

It's take a lot for me to post my weight on here because I'm very not happy about it. But I need to get motivated not just to fit into my bridesmaids dress and not just because I want to fit into smaller sizes, but I want to lead a healthier, more active lifestyle. It also has some to do with the fact that I get sick a lot and have a fairly weak immune system. Being more active might improve that and I certainly want to give it a shot. Saturday will be my weekly weigh in for keeping up with it here. Of course I'll still keep up with the chart on a daily basis in order to keep a more detailed record.

So here's to weight loss!

God bless,

Bella

Memory Eternal

Life is incredibly short. This is especially put into perspective when someone you love dies. Fourty days ago my younger brother's Godfather, Fr. Seraphim, "passed into Eternity", as my grandfather so eloquently stated in his email telling us what happened. It was rather unexpected. He had some health problems before, but was improving from his last stay in the hospital, and was at home when it happened.

It was Monday afternoon about 2:23pm and I was conversing with my roommate about what seems now to be silly complaints, when I logged onto my email account. I had a few emails, but nothing worth opening at the moment. At the top I had a forward from my grandfather, so when I glanced back down and saw his name again, I first thought nothing new had popped up, but then I looked back because something seemed different. I stopped mid-sentence because I saw the subject line "Fr. Seraphim's passing into Eternity". I quickly opened the email and read it, not speaking a word until I knew that I wasn't just reading it wrong, or misunderstanding his email. My roommate kept asking what was wrong, what happened. Finally I found my voice and squeaked as I began to cry, "Fr. Seraphim has died." Now, I'm not one for crying around other people. I don't like making them uncomfortable, but I couldn't help myself. I realized that I was the first person in my family to know because I happened to be online when Granddad sent the email. Of all the thoughts swirling in my mind in that moment, one stood out: I have to call Mom. I frantically grabbed my phone and called the house. I didn't want my little brother to answer because I didn't want to tell him this way. I wanted my parents to tell him. Thankfully, my mom answered. Crying into the phone, I asked her if she had seen Granddaddy's email yet, and proceeded to tell her what it said.

After hanging up, my roommate sweetly hugged me, and we talked a little about it. I kept thinking what should I do? I can't sit around and cry all day, or all week. I can't be idle in my sorrow. But what is there to do? I've known many people who have died, but all of those were not wholly unexpected, or it was people to whom I was not particularly close. I've known the Scheidlers since I was 3 or 4. They have been some of the most gracious, kind people I have ever met. They have truly blessed my life, and everyone around them. They sent my brothers and I birthday cards, and Christmas gifts, and gave us candy at Pascha. They are the sweetest people.

The funeral was such a testament to their kindness and generosity. St. Ignatius was completely full. My family and I arrived early to see the Scheidlers. The church was dark at first, dimly lit was a modest wood coffin where Fr. Seraphim lay inside dressed in his vestments with a cloth over his face. The funeral was beautiful. There were 6 priests serving and 5 deacons serving, and 4 deacons that did the readings. I cried for part of it, but not all of it. I was glad to see his family. I was glad to see much of my family. I was thankful to be there and to have known him for so many years.

At Fr. Seraphim's death I feel hopeful. I feel blessed, I feel joy that he is with the Lord. I feel grateful that he was a part of my life, but most of all I feel sad. I keep thinking what a devastating loss this is to us on Earth, but what a magnificent addition to the Kingdom of God.

My Garden

Today I began planting my garden. It was tough work because I let it fall into disarray over the winter, but it was well worth the trouble. I started by going to Walmart and spending too much money on flowers and tools. Mostly flowers, though. I have such a weakness for buying too many. I love getting many different kinds and having a colorful, eclectic garden. Then I started into the muck and dead leaves and grass. I raked some of it up, but then had to get down and dirty. Luckily I bought gloves, which are now caked in dirt. It rained, to say the least, for several hours last night, so the dirt was nice and moist. I planted about half my flowers and herbs, though, and I can't wait to plant the rest. Unfortunately it will have to wait until Monday when I can devote more time to it again. I'm anxiously waiting for it.

I have to admit that while thinking about my garden and how I need to take better care of it this year, it coincided with another thought I had a few moments ago. I had been reading my cousin's blog post about Lent, which is coming quicker than I'd like. Talking about my garden has me thinking of how my soul is like a garden. I've planted the seeds of my faith, but that it not enough. It must be watered, weeded, pruned, and nurtured in order to survive and grow. Lately, like my garden, I have let my soul become dishevelled. I have not stopped believing, but let myself fall into a spiritual slump. I haven't been motivated to keep up with my prayers or be involved any more than just showing up on Sunday morning at 10:00am. I haven't been taking care of my soul.

I've been dreading the start of Lent because I dislike fasting so much. I don't like going out to eat and trying to find something fasting appropriate, or going to a friend's house and feeling awkward because I'm fasting, or going to the store and buying yet another bag of salad, or having pasta and tomato sauce three times a week. Most of all I hate walking past the milk and not buying any because that is my favorite drink. Probably my favorite out of anything I eat or drink. There is nothing quite as satisfying as a cold glass of milk, and I hate feeling guilty when I give in during Lent and pour myself a glass of milk. It's not the same. It tastes like failure and guilt. Just like everything I eat during a fast that I shouldn't tastes bad and makes me feel even worse. However, I know I need a good wake up call this year. Nothing gets me out of a spiritual slump quite like fasting and reminding myself every time I eat something that I'm preparing for the Resurrection.

I dislike fasting like I dislike clearing away the muck from my garden. Even my neighbor shouted towards me when he saw me working that he hates that part of it. "Me too!" was all I shouted back. After I said it, I realized I didn't hate it so much. Yes it was gross and dirty and tedious, but when I finally was able to begin planting the flowers, it was all very much worth it. Lent is difficult and tedious, but I don't actually hate it. Of course it's not fun and I dislike it while it's going on, but the result is beyond worth the struggle. Preparing myself for that wonderful Liturgy of Pascha when we sing "Christ is Risen!" and literally feast together all day is worth the 40+ days of working, fasting, and praying (and failing) because it gives the feast more meaning. It makes Pascha my favorite day of the year. Without Lent, without all the hard work, it would be no more than just another day.

I have hope this year that while tending to my garden, and trying to be better at that, I can remind myself to tend to my soul and continue to grow, along with my flowers, in the hope that I can properly prepare myself for the Resurrection.

God Bless,

Bella