Toe Stopping Music

I love dancing. I really do.

Last night was my work Christmas party. Dinner, awards, dancing. Guaranteed good night. Except for one little issue. I didn't notice the "music request list" posted in our crew room, until it was too late. Okay fine, whatever. So I would just be dancing to music I didn't know. No big deal. I guess. Right?

WRONG!

I danced for a few songs - to the ones I knew, and the ones that were clean. So.....three songs. Now I'll be fair some of the songs I can't pass a judgement on. They were in Punjabi and I don't know Punjabi. They may have been good songs. However the rest of the songs, not so much.

I lasted like I said, three songs before I went and sat down and watched my friends dance. A few times I found one foot bouncing along with the beat as if to say "Well come on, get out there. I'm not even tired yet." And then one song came on that made me stop and think.

In essence the lyrics went:

"I've got a headache and I'm nauseous eee-eee-ee-eeee *cries*"

If you've had the misfortune of hearing this song you probably heard it as:

"I've got a hangover! Wo-oooh-ooo-ooooh!"

Why? I mean really why? Would you celebrate a hang over? I've never had one myself so I can't say if I would or not, so I (in the ways of Dr. Suess) went and asked my Dad. He said he never felt like celebrating a hangover. So why do we have a song celebrating it?

At this song my foot stopped tapping, and instead I just started listening to the music my co-workers picked out. I work mainly with teenagers and young adults. I work at MCDONALDS for goodness sake! Most of the people I work with aren't legally able to do the stuff in the songs they picked!

There was the song Last Friday Night by Katy Perry:

Last Friday night

Yeah we danced on tabletops

And we took too many shots

Think we kissed but I forgot

---

Last Friday night

Yeah I think we broke the law

This Friday night

Do it all again

Excuse me? I think we broke the law? And you're singing about it? Why? Go turn yourself in! DON'T do it again. If you are singing with this song I think you need to sit down and take a good long look at where your life is heading. Being hungover "whoo-ooooh-oooh-oh?" maybe pregnant "I forgot" and in jail. Fantastic.

I've heard people before say "Well I don't listen to the words I just dance to the beat." Ya right! I'm sorry but from listening to this music last night (I had a two hour listening window) I discovered pretty much all the music had the same beat in the back ground - it was a good beat sure. And had the lyrics been good my feet might have tapped along, but the words themselves stopped me. Why?

DANCING IS WORSHIP!

Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the LORD with all his might, while he and all Israel were bringing up the ark of the LORD with shouts and the sounds of trumpets

(2 Samuel 6:14-15)

Let them praise His name with dancing;

Let them sing praises to Him with timbrel and lyre

(Psalm 149:3)

Praise Him with timbrel and dancing;

Praise Him with stringed instruments and pipe

(Psalm 150:4)

So dancing is worship. Do you just worship anything? I don't. I worship God. Why would I waste my worship on drinking, fooling around in the bedroom, and breaking the law? And before you 'But Hollie' me - I know that I am not drinking, sleeping around and breaking the law. I also know that a few of the people dancing weren't either. But if your going to dance (which is worship) to the songs that glorify it - why make the distinction?

I'm also not saying all secular songs are bad and that you should just hermit yourself away and listen to old hymns sung by your great-grandmother. I know a bunch of secular songs that I can dance to and have fun.

Guess I'm just a little picky.

Hollie.

(oh PS sorry about the forever and a day hiatus from posting. I don't have internet at home and it's really really really hard to type up something like this on an iPod, just doesn't work as well)

Imagine That

Have you ever met someone with no imagination? You know, those people who look at you funny if you suggest that the sky would look pretty if it was pink instead of blue. If you ever dare to wonder out loud what tree's would look if they grew upside down they are ready to commit you into a well padded room. I am NOT one of those people. Mostly. I can't imagine what my walls would look like if I painted them blue while I am staring at them. However ask me to think of bubbles replacing raindrops and I will be off in my own little world for hours.

Would bubbles still be so magical if they were in place of rain? How would you get your water? Would you drink bubble juice then? How would it not make you sick? Would drops of water be cool and fascinating? Would sprinkling water on babies make then stop crying (since blowing bubbles is a tried and true way to make any baby and toddler stop crying)? What would the clouds like? Would there be clouds? Would it have to be windy while it bubbled out? To form the bubbles - you know.

See what I mean. I can create a whole world with just that one hypothetical situation. And with the world comes people. With people comes problems. With problems come difficult solutions. And with reaching those solutions comes a story. And that boys and girls is how bubbles can inspire an amazing story.

I have a very vivid imagination - stemming back to childhood. So much so that I have to be uber careful about what I watch and listen too. The simplest thing can have my mind reeling. Cause not only do I have an imagination, I am very visual. Bad combination. Very bad.

I need my imagination though. I can't write stories without it. To me imagination is a gift. Everyone I think has it, in different ways. Some are very imaginative in numbers (not me - but how else do you get these new confusing math equation stuff that they teach in........school). Some (like me) with stories and people. Some people are imaginative parents. Or decorators. So everyone HAS an imagination. Everyone just has different imaginational leanings. And some people just chose not to use theirs (why is beyond me)

Even as a child I had a strong imagination. And it was a muscle I used often. I think if God hadn't given me such a good imagination I wouldn't have been able to imagine anything good in the world (cause I lived in a dark depressive void) and probably would have gone down a very different depressive path that would have ended in self destruction.

I can't remember everything I would imagine as a child, but I knew there was lots. I really did live in my own little world.
I created it.
I controlled it.
I was safe in it.
I do remember, though, pretending I was a Princess instead of a slave, and at night pretending I was in a hospital bed. (That way I had to lay perfectly still and couldn't role over because the IV's would be pulled out. - AKA I got in trouble if I moved around too much on my bed)

As I got older these imaginations became stories. That was grade seven. I recently found stuff I wrote back in the grade 7-9 time period and - immature writing style aside - it was bad. Very bad. Awful. Beyond words. Because really, as my Grade 11 and 12 English teacher would say "Literature is not created within a void." I was a sad a child. Really I was. This reflected in my stories.

But as I changed, and as God changed me - naturally my imagination changed with me. With God in control nothing stays stagnant. Not even an imagination. I still dream. I still imagine. I still can spend an entire day thinking what would happen if rain drops were bubbles. Its actually kind of fun...

And for the record - imagination is Biblical. Proof:

EPHESIANS 3:20

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us

God is able to do more then we can imagine!!!!!!!! Which means we actually have to imagine something once in a while. I was thinking about that in church today actually. If God is able to do more then we can ask or imagine - what really could happen? So you imagine the most epic thing you can think off. Example: I want to be an author, and I imagine (think believe whatever) that I can achieve this. God dreams bigger.

But what happens when you've reached God's bigger. So you're beyond what you imagined. Well naturally you imagine more (because it is open to you - and that's the nature of an imagination) God goes beyond that. So now your at the bigger than bigger than you've ever imagined. And you imagine more. God goes beyond that. And so on and so on. God is just so infinite that He will always dream bigger then us.

Imagine that

Hollie

Social Butterfly

I was thinking today of the term: Social Butterfly. Usually it has a bad connotation, you know. You think of some ditsy "Like oh my gosh, you put swaid with pearls. What's wrong with you?" girl who has a million of equally shallow friends that flitz from boy to boy to boy but has relationships that are just as shallow as her outfit choices. The Urban Dictionary doesn't look to highly of her either. (I've actually never used the Urban Dictionary before, but it seemed to be the only clear definition site that Google would give me.)

But I like to change things. Or at least alter them. Today I tackle the social butterfly. Delicately. Cause we both have nails that might break ;)

I'm going to start off by saying, right now I have the group of friends that pre-Radically-Altered-by-Jesus me would have been jealous of. Yes this is relevant. It's also true.

I think its relevant because that is my way of being a social butterfly (I came to that conclusion a little bit ago). But I don't think being a social butterfly is bad - in a way. And it won't be bad as long as you shake off the ditsy stereotype. Please.

seriously who wants to look like this?

See in order to be a beautiful butterfly, you have to be an ugly plain caterpillar first. My caterpillar stage was the first seventeen years of my life. My caterpillar was different then yours. I was awkward and strange and unusual and impossible to get along with and a self imposed loner. For others their caterpillar stage is shyness. Maybe it's in middle school when they are growing into and figuring out their own style, instead of what mom and dad say their allowed to wear. Maybe your caterpillar was you were shunned out of your own friend group for some reason and spent a while not knowing who you were or what you were supposed to do. It could just be because you were at a new school. Maybe your caterpillar only lasted a week. Or a month. A year. Or several like it did for me. But any which way you did it, you caterpillared. I think everyone caterpillars at some point in time. And we each go through it differently because, well, we are all different. But don't worry. They're is hope. You will not (or at least should not) be a caterpillar for your entire life. You can be, if you choose, but you don't have to.

After you caterpillar there is the equally awkward stage of chrysalis (or cocooning). This was me at eighteen during my first year of Interns. Maybe it's not as awkward as being a caterpillar but it is a very vulnerable spot to be. See when a caterpillar is ready to be a butterfly it makes itself a cocoon and begins its transformation. While it is in this stage of its life it hangs upside down from anything, in a cocoon, with no defenses. At all. If anyone wanted to they could pick a cocoon and cut it open and the poor insect would not make it. Or an animal could come and eat it. Doesn't sound pleasant does it? But it must be worth it, or God wouldn't make the butterfly go through it. Its during this stage that the butterfly gets its wings, and goes from ugly caterpillar to stunning butterfly.

For the social butterfly the chrysalis stage of life is when she (or he. Guys can be social too. And - butterflies......?) takes the time to step back from her caterpillarness and cocoon herself in God. Listening to what He thinks of her. This is where she gets her confidence. This is where she sets herself in her God, roots herself fully. New is added to her and the old is taken away. Did you know during this stage almost everything about the caterpillar changes. They lose legs, they gain two wings, and even their mouths change? So this is where God is changing our social butterfly. Hurts from her past are taken, hope for the future is given, and even how she thinks and speaks is being changed. It's also vulnerable because at this point you are neither a butterfly nor a caterpillar. Another caterpillar, seeing you going to change will try to bring you down and take you back. An unperceptive/immature butterfly may see that you're not a caterpillar and try and force you into butterfly-hood.

Did you know if you help a butterfly out of their cocoon (aka cut it open) the butterfly will die? That's because breaking out of the cocoon actually strengthens the butterfly's previously unused flying muscles. Being a butterfly is entirely new to the insect, it's always been a caterpillar or an 'in-between' - it needs to work out its muscles.

Just like the real butterfly the social butterfly (maybe I should just call it a Christian butterfly, I seem to be talking about Christianity more then being social...) has to break out of her cocoon. And like the caterpillar she was before how she breaks out is entirely different for each girl. My cocoon breaking was my second year of interns I would say. While breaking out the social butterfly already knows about her God and who she is in Him, now is her chance to work it. This is where she acts out on it. Now how she treats people is completely different. Making all kinds of friends is easy because she is beautiful. Don't get me wrong, if you're still in the caterpillar stage - you are still good looking. I'm not saying your ugly just because you aren't the 'social butterfly'.

But people make friends with the social butterfly for not only her outward beauty (she had that the entire time) but because of her character beauty. She spent her time with her God, and continues to do so. His love, His radiance, His friendship emits from her. How can you not be friends with that? And not only does she make friends easier then her caterpillar self, but she is better at staying friends with ALL of them because she has the character of God in her.

So really, the social butterfly is just a follower of Jesus.

Hollie.

Are you not of more value than they?

Hehehe opps. Only one post last month. I need to get on top of this. I also need to start editing my posts. (Have you ever noticed how hard it is to say editing - I always end up added another 'it' or a 'ded' to the word somehow when I say it) But that's besides the point. I could defend my lack of posting, and defensively say "well I had to move so...... there!" but that's totally bogus cause while yes I did move, I only really packed like two days before I moved and then my dad did most of the moving (I get in the way and am not very helpful when it comes to lifting and moving boxes cause boxes are heavy)

Anyways too the point. I think we have caught up to my story enough for me to just post somewhat randomly on here now. You know instead of "in this stage of my life I went through this, and at this stage I went through it again and at this stage I.........." but instead post observations and random stuff like that - and really just continue to document on how I continue to change now. If you're in for the ride sweet, if you're not don't worry. I still love you.

Anyways I will finish off with a summery before we jump into the now.

I am so thankful that God brought me through these two extreme intense years of growing. I went into my first year of interns as this quiet scared broken cynical hateful child and came out of my second year as a confident loving joyful optimistic leadertype young woman. If you don't know me I wish you could have been there to see the transformation. It was a strange ride. Emotional walls were broken down crushed and blown away. A heart of stone melted into a puddle and a new heart of not-stone was put in its place.

In the beginning I was a girl who lived with her father, and that was really the extent of her family. I now have so many ladies that are like moms and aunts to me. I have brothers and sisters.

PSALM 68:6

God sets the lonely in families, He leads forth the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

You know that question "If you could pick any super power what would it be?" Going into Interns it would have been invisibility. Not because it lets you sneak around people and in stuff as I let myself assume. It was because I wanted to be invisible. I didn't want people to see me. Cause if people saw me they might try to get close to me. And if people got close to me they would obviously take my heart and chuck it to the floor so it could shatter into a million peaces. I wanted the power of invisibility because I already was invisible. Thankfully God see's everything, invisible or not. I'm not sure which superpower I would want now. But not invisibility.

GENESIS 16:13

Then she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, You-Are-the-God-Who-Sees; for she said, "Have I also here seen Him who sees me?"

I used to think no one cared about me. I remember being nine or ten in Ontario laying in bed crying because I didn't think anyone would care if I died. I would try to remind myself that my Daddy would miss me. And my Grandparents, and maybe even my Aunts and Uncles. But they ALL lived in BC and Alberta. I only saw them at some point in a two week period in the summer. So it wouldn't be that big of an adjustment if I wasn't alive no more. I didn't think my mom would care as she had Dean and Dean's daughter that I thought she loved more then me. I felt as though I was an afterthought, someone to have control over. I was still a child and already I was a few thoughts away from thoughts of suicide! Now I have people that are more then maybe's on my list of people who would care. And I don't want to die. Right now. Maybe when I'm really really really really old. Like a hundred.

MATTHEW 6:26

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

I could go on and on and on about all the little ways God has changed me over these two years, but there's too much. He's just so good! I went into Interns not really knowing about God. I knew more then when I was seven and thought all God did was move furniture to make thunder. But I didn't know much. I would be hesitant to say I was a Christian - in the sense of a follower of Christ. I was a Christian only in the way of "I go to Church on Sunday and Youth on Tuesday" which isn't really a Christian at all. God took these two years and revealed Himself to me. He showed me He was good. That He loved me. That He wanted me (as a rejected child/person, being told you are wanted by the CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE was pretty epic). That He would take all my heart-ache. He took my shattered and glued together heart of stone and replaced it. He loved me so much that I couldn't help but love Him back.

EZEKIEL 36:26

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.

The rest just kind of naturally followed. When you know that God loves you, you can't stay in your filth. You have to change. Not because He demands it (which He does, by the way), because its only natural. If you know that God loves you, you can't help but love yourself. And when you love yourself you treat yourself, others and God differently.

God only creates what is good. He created me. He created you. He only creates what is good. Think about it.

Hollie.

I quit!!

My first year really did end on a high note. The year was done. I had changed so much. I had a fun summer to look forward to - I was going to camp, and I was going to repeat the year the following year.

*snicker*

Second Year is so much different then First Year. In my first year we were the largest class to date - 8 people. In my second year we were the smallest - 5 people. I was also the first second year in the history of interns to not have a partner second year with them. Which was totally God making sure I didn't just hide behind some other leader and not grow in leadership myself (we'll cover this later). And then there was the fact that I HAD to be a leader. That's what being a Second Year is. It sucked.

As per random usual there were two of one gender (this time the girls) and three of the other (obviously the guys). For the girls there was me and Anna, and for the boys there was Shades (twin to JJ/older brother to Jay), Mike and C.

It started off well. It started off promising. We went camping. It rained. The entire weekend. Not just a drop here and a drop there. It poured. So much so that mine and Anna's tent flooded. We were tentless. Our brilliant solution? We were gonna sleep on the picnic table because it was covered by a food tent. That idea lasted about three minutes. Those three guys we were with wouldn't allow it, gave us their tent (even moved our stuff in and there's out so we couldn't complain) and slept on the picnic table instead. One on one bench, one on the other, and the third on the table. It promised to be a great year. And then we started classes.

To say we got along really well would be - well a false statement. To say we listened to each other would be a down right lie. And to say none of us were hard-headed and stubborn would be laughable at best. And to make matters worse for me, I'm not a natural leader. At all. No seriously. I like suggesting idea's, and I like my suggestions happening, but being like "No, it's going to happen this way and we are all going to agree so we can get it done faster" is not in my DNA. I don't like seeming mean, I'm very conscious of how people perceive me and I was (remember) a people pleaser. I lasted maybe a month and I was ready to quit.


Now I've wanted  to quit stuff before. Multiple times even. In grade 9 I wanted to quit helping backstage of the school play. I thought it was too hard, and the stage director too mean, and the tasks to complicating. I would wait out the play and
 then not join stage crew again next year. Hehe. Guess what happened to me? Grade 10 had me on stage crew. So did grades 11 and 12. And you know what, I loved it. It was part of who I was, what I did, in high school. I actually wouldn't mind getting back into theater like that. And seeing as I'm done Interns and actually have time on my hands (weird....time) I might do so.

I wanted to quit in my first year of Interns too. I wasn't fitting it. I seemed to be doing everything wrong. No matter how hard I tried it seemed like I wasn't being perfect. I was disappointing everyone. It was too hard. But again I didn't
want to just quit because that would make me a quitter and it would disappoint everyone even more (remember I went into my first year to make people happy and proud of me). So I would wait out the year and then never look back. I would never ever EVER do Interns again. I'm glad doesn't listen to our "I'm never going to..." statements.

But my second year was different. I was ready to quit. Hand in my books, take my name out of the class, not attend. Let PC think I was a failure, and all my teachers too. There was just no way on earth I was going to get through that year. I wasn't a leader and I thought God putting me through it was just not fair! KS (my second year) took me out for coffee many times, and at the end of each one we would end up sitting in her car, me crying my eyes out complaining about how hard it was and how I wanted to quit and all my complaints. She sat there listening and she comforted me "just think," she would say, "God is prepairing you for something bigger" I'm not sure how that was supposed to comfort me. And at the time it didn't - oddly enough. But now looking back, she's right. Maybe He was. Any way I kinda feel like Superwoman I can take on anything! I am now a leader (how this happened I will explain later I promised, but if I continued on this post it would just be way to long)

Another person who really helped me was my friend Bonnie. She had done two years of Interns (the first two years we had Interns in the church in fact) as well as a year at another dicsipleship school. She was one of the teachers, and was my accountablity partner. She was the one to encourage me and give me tips on how to improve on my leadership and how to communicate better with my first years.

I really don't think I would have survived the year if God hadn't made sure KS and Bonnie were there. I  really don't.

Well actually I don't quit. God hasn't let me quit yet. And He has been faithful in all of my wanting's to quit. Each time I hung on tight and toughed it out, relying on the fact that He knew what He was doing there was a good reward at the end. From Grade 9 I developed a love of theatre. My first year gave me confidence and a high self esteem. My second year more confidence more self esteem and much much better leadership skills.

So please don't quit. God does have a plan - even if you me and we can't see it.

Hollie.

Missions Trip #2 - Peru

In May of 2010 we the Interns and some people from our church got to go to Peru. One of our pastor's goes there quiet often so we already had a connection (plus at least two previous Intern classes had gone as well). We had spent from January until we left practicing Drimes and preparing to do some VBS (Vacation Bible School). However our main goal of going down there was to help one Pastor build his church. He had plans for a three story building, the main level for the church, the middle for offices and such, and the third for him and his (soon to be) wife and some church employee's to live in. (And even then, his testimony of how he got the land his church is on, and even how they got the materials to make the building they had already then was so amazing)

The trip started out the way any Intern trip must start out. With a ride in Marge, the church van. That was to the airport where we boarded a plane to Huston Texas. From there was the plane to Lima Peru. We stayed the night at a hotel there and then the next morning got on a bus. Oh the bus. It's pretty much a double-decker  Greyhound-esk bus, where the bottom deck was "First Class" (had bigger seats, and less of them) and on the top deck was the rest of us. (Our two lovely second years, PC and the building crew from church got the lower deck, the rest of us where up top. I really liked it up there). And then it was a bus trip up the mountain. Up up up. And then up some more. We stopped at this one place for lunch. That was good food. Just saying. And then we took the bus down the other side of the mountain until we reached La Merced Peru. The little town that I fell in love with.

I think out of all three of my overseas missions trips, Peru is the first place that I would go back to if given the choice. Cambodia would be a close second. I fell in love with the people there, and the pace of the city, and the heat and well - I just loved it.

Pretty much, our day's from there on out followed a continuous routine. Get up (we were staying at this nice hotel, two to a room. I was rooming with Eva) have breakfast, slather yourself in bug spray and sunscreen, go to the church where we were helping to build. Have lunch, shower, change, nap ext. then off to some church or other place to do Drimes or VBS (sometimes more then once). Dinner fit in there some where. Bed. Repeat.

At the church we were building, Pastor M. (the pastor of that church) and his congregation had a BBQ for us on the first Sunday. And it was a cool Barbecue too. They dug this huge hole in the ground, and coals in the bottom and then layered the food (putting plantain leaves between each layer of food) covering it back up and letting it cook. The food was amazing. Lots of it, but amazing. See they dished out the food and then gave you the plate. It was a lot of food. On my plate there were three different types of meat, at least five potato's, one Yuka (a type of potato), a sweet potato, and a huge pile of these really amazing tasting beans (they were in pods like peas but soooo good) I couldn't finish it.

As we were getting ready to go to Peru KS (who had been to Peru the year before) was preparing us to know that we would all be sharing our testimony more then once on the trip (sometimes once per day). That was cause the year before all they were doing was Drimes and VBS morning and afternoon. Lots of the Interns did share there testimony more then once. Luckily, I only had to share my testimony once (I have, had {sorry}, this strong dislike of talking about myself and my life) but I did introduce the Drimes a lot (I was very good at it apparently).

Although, my most favourite memory is from our final Sunday there. We were at this other church and were going to do a VBS at for them that morning. When it came to VBS we were split into groups. Jay and Eva were doing games, JJ and Melody were doing crafts, KS was the director, S was taking photo's, and Me and K-A were doing the story. (I love telling stories, can't you tell?) Throughout the week we had two stories, one of Jesus calming the storm, and one of when Saul was met on the road to Damascus and went from someone who wanted to kill Christians to being a Christian. (Our theme was God's Power) K-A told the calming the storm story, and I told the Damascus story. Each time we did a VBS we switched off telling a story. So if K-A told her story I would ask the discussion questions. And when I told the story K-A would lead the discussion. We also had this brown piece of fabric we called the SS Damascus, cause when K-A was telling the story we folded it to look like a boat for the kids to sit on, and when I was telling the story it was the road to Damascus.

Anyways, it was my turn to tell the story and the group we had at that moment was of little kids. So like four and five and six year olds. We tried to make it fun for them by getting them involved. Little things like, "and then Paul couldn't see! Can you cover you're eyes and pretend to not see" or "so his friends had to lead him. Grab someones hand and pretend to walk with them" and "and then God healed him, open your eyes and see!" And there was this one little boy when we said cover your eyes, he covered his eyes stood up and tried to walk. Oh he was so cute.

And then it was time to go home. Back onto the bus. Up the mountain. Stop at the same place for food. Down down down down down the mountain. We even stopped at the same hotel. We toured Lima's catacombs during because our plane wasn't until later that night. And then we were on the way home.

God taught me a lot there. Lots on my attitude (no really. Even out of you're own country He wants you to have a good attitude) and about a new work ethic (until then I hadn't really done 'hard' labour. McWork can't be considered hard, all I do is stand there and talk and count money. In Peru I was moving rocks and shoveling dirt like no tomorrow, which for me was hard). And how love doesn't stop with a language barrier. Cause God is love, and He obviously isn't hindered by different languages. It's not like His first and only language is English. I fell in love with so many of the people there. And the fact that they didn't understand a word I said, and I didn't understand a word they said and that we needed a translator just to have a conversation didn't really stop us. This one little girl (who was about eight) would just talk and talk and talk in Spanish. And when she realized I didn't know Spanish she would talk slower (when she remembered) which didn't help me at all, but still.

 I would love to go back one day.

Hollie.

The Good Pain

As I sit here typing I'm fairly certain my legs are never going to forgive me. I just recently tried some new workout thing which is INTENSE. It's been two days and my legs are still sore. Anything more then a basic step has them protesting. I'm sure if they could speak they would be sounding like tired whinny children. It's odd but I'm not upset at this pain. I don't begrudgingly living with it because I have to or something. Well actually it's not odd at all. See even though I try to avoid any kind of pain at any cost this can be classified as "Good Pain" because it means my muscles are getting stronger and it won't
hurt as much next time. It means I will improve and be better next time. It's 'good' even if it doesn't feel so good.

Lots of good pain doesn't really feel good at the time. Like confrontations. Confrontations were a big thing for me in Interns. I'm pretty sure I had at least once, if not more, a month. A confrontation is basically a conversation where you're bad attitude is brought to your attention and the possible consequences for it are shown. ie: always shooting down people's ideas and thoughts may led them to not telling you anything - ever. And then you are given the opportunity to change that. You don't necessarily have to change it, but if you don't chances are you will get another Confrontation.

I'll be honest, I hated confrontations. I still don't like getting them. But at the same time I hate crunches and yet I still do them. Both confrontations and crunches hurt while they are happening, and for a bit after words too. And neither gets easier with time.

The reason I didn't like them is that you are sitting there as your own personal personality filth is brought to your attention. It's as if you haven't changed your cat litter for two weeks or so - you learn not to smell it (gross). However a guest would notice it right away. And they would probably even draw it to your attention. Then you'd have to change it. And that would be gross, it would almost be easier to pretend the cat litter doesn't smell than to change it.

Same with a stinky attitude. You live with it, so you don't notice. Suddenly someone else brings it to your attention. You probably were fine with your attitude and don't want to change it. You don't want to change it cause it stinks and makes you want to gag. But you have to (in theory - but please please do so)

And not only in confrontations was my own personality smelly hiccups (burps?) brought to attention but there was a small matter of pride that should be mentioned. No one, least of all myself, likes to be told they are
less than perfect.
Or less than good enough.
Or even less than passable.
I know I'm not perfect. I knew then I was not perfect. However I did think that I was just as good as the next person and thereby didn't really need to change (after all they didn't have to change). However everyone has to change. I had to have confrontations. And I had to change. That didn't mean I had to like it.

Now however, I see the benefit of all those confrontations. Cause yes it was PC and KS and S doing the confrontations. But really it was God working threw them. Why you ask? It's discipline really. Love at the core of it. Hebrews 12:5-8:

And you have forgotten the exhortation which speaks to you as to sons:

"My son, do not despise the chastening of the LORD,

Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked by Him;

For whom the LORD loves He chastens,

And scourges every son whom He receives."

If you endure chastening, God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom a father does not chasten? But if you are without chastening, of which all have become partakers, then you are illegitimate and not sons.

And also it was PC KS and S showing they cared. Proverbs 27:17:

As iron sharpens iron,

So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.

So while at the time it hurt. And it stunk. And I really hated it. Now I can look back at all the good it has done for me. I like people more. I'm sure people can actually handle being around me more. I don't fly off the handle and lose my temper as much. Really I'm just an all around better (but still not perfect) person then I was before all those meetings.

Now if these squats, crunches and such could do the same we'd be set.

Hollie.

And then there was road trips

Do you think you know someone? Like everything possible. No stone left untold between you. I mean really you and this person are practically joined at the hip. There is nothing possible you couldn't know about them. Go spend 14 - 24 hours in a van with them, on multiple occasions, then go back to you pre-trip self and correct that misconception. Cause now you really do. Or so you think. We might cover this new misconception later.

But that was us. All eight of us interns. We had done pretty much everything imaginable already. We had been in tipped canoes. We had painted for hours and hours together, cut paper snowflakes, attempted to create our own Drime (that shall never be heard of/preformed again). We had done bottle drives, worked in a kitchen, decorated the church Regency room for a luncheon, worked the Christmas banquet.

MOST importantly we had survived PC driving the church van (affectionately named Marge).

Obviously there wasn't anything else we could learn about each other. We knew it ALL. No really - we did.

Then we went to the Jesus Culture Conference in Redding California. From our town that's a 12 hour drive (provided you don't stop to eat, stretch, and/or go to the bathroom. EVER) It's more like 14 hours included the previously excluded list. And in Marge was us eight, PC, and two other friends of ours. In case your bad at math that's eleven people. In an eleven seater van. By the time you reach home that's 24h+ in a van with the same eleven people. And there is no break from them when you're not in the van.

Suddenly you know who snores. Who has the best taste of music. Who smells bad. Who has to go to the bathroom every half hour vs. bladders of steel. Who makes the best pillow and who has a bony shoulder. Now you know how they act when they are truly sleep deprived. And have you ever noticed that being stuck in the same vehicular magnifies everything? So what used to not make someone tick suddenly really makes them tock. And what annoyed them now infuriates them?

We survived though. And made it back with many stories to tell and inside jokes to last for a life time. That was the beginning of February. At the beginning of March was the LA trip.

See every year so far the Interns do two missions trip. A 'small' one to either LA or to NHOP (National House of Prayer) in Ottawa. And then a 'big' one which is usually an overseas or Mexico trip.

So it had been a month and our tailbones were still protesting the idea as we dutifully loaded up Marge and piled back on in. This time there was ten of us (one free seat!!!!) Fourteen more hours to Redding. Stay for the night. Go to church there, go shopping, go to church again, go to bed. Another eight to nine-ish hours to Los Angeles the following day.

While in LA we stayed and helped out at the Dream Center. Basically what they do is they find a need, and then find a way to fill that need. Which involved a lot of things, but my favourite out-reach we did was the Food Truck. Which basically was loading up a delivery truck with food, driving out to a set location (same location on the same day of the week at the same time) put food in grocery bags and hand out the food.

After ten or so days we once again loaded up Marge and piled on in. This time to go home again. By the time we reached the wee hours of the night/morning we had gone from having fun, to laughing at everything and anything because we were so tired, to staring ahead blankly trying to sleep, to normal because we were so tired. By the time we had reached normal most people had slept. I think Me Eva and Jay started talking on childhood memories and things we liked. Eva dropped out once the topic changed to books (she's more of a movie girl) and stayed there for a good while. Once books were exhausted out (and us as well) we attempted to sleep. Which was uncomfortable to say the least.

By the time we got home I'm sure none of us ever wanted to see Marge again. I know I didn't. During these trips though I did learn a few things. Like how to get along with people - simply because I had no choice. My MP3 wouldn't last the entire trip so I couldn't just listen to it all the time. Reading the entire way was out (vans full of people are loud just so you know). And the fact of the matter is - people are just fun to talk to.

I also discovered I missed everyone the next morning, which was surprising. I expected I wouldn't want to see them for a long time. Instead I was going through a people withdrawal.

So all told we clocked a good 74 or more hours in Marge. And do you think we know everything about each other now? Oh absolutely.

NOT.

Hollie.

Princess Mentality

Hey so now I guess from the last post any person who knows me and reads this now knows they know me. SURPRISE!!! Okay maybe not.

Today's topic: Princesses!

Yes princesses. Lets face it, we all grew up around Princess (well if you were an 80's or 90's kid at least) I mean really Disney has had us prepped for Princesshood since we've been able to understand what a Princess is.

Every girl has wanted to be a Princess at some point in their life. Princess, ballerina, mommy, brain surgeon. You know it's a list of that every girl wants to be.

And then of course there's me. Somehow I seem to like being the exception. As far as I'm usually concerned the connotation of a princess is someone who sits around all day sipping tea and worrying about breaking a nail. Usually I don't have nails to break (I bite them a lot) so I don't have to worry about it. And while I do love tea I usually have it in a to-go up as I'm rushing around doing things.

Fact is, I'm just NOT a Princess.

Or so I'd like to think. That doesn't really fly over well with the people I hang out with. From either year of Interns.

Its the whole entitlement of the Princess Mentality that I don't really like. The damsel in distress that so many Disney princess are. The "woe-is-me I need a fine prince to move this" attitude. Really, I'm just stubborn.

 In both my years of interns this anti-Princess theology was really challenged and it did not make it out in tact (although it did make it out. Like I said I'm stubborn) In interns girls are expected to be ladies and guys gentleman. Did you know part of being a lady is letting a gentleman BE a gentleman? Suddenly this independent only child had to let others do things for her. I remember distinctly towards the end of my first year stacking chairs at youth (I was an Intern, Interns helped at youth, and stacking chairs was part of helping) and every chair I grabbed was taken from me by one of the guys in my class. Kinda very annoying if you don't like the whole "Princess thing."

Me and KS have talked about the whole Princess thing. I argue that I'm a maiden (maidens can do things. Princesses can't) she thinks otherwise. And if we are going to be truthful she's right.

Now that I think about it, this probably should wait until I start talking about my second year cause that's when the most growth happened. To late now, I don't want to delete all this. This is a mash of both years. I'll try to stick to first year experiences.

The first year was easier to handle actually. There were six girls and two guys - you can get away with a lot then. Second year not so much. Two girls, three guys. But the fact that there was two guys and six girls did not stop PC from expecting the guys to gentleman. I remember in Peru (I will cover that later) we were going to a birthday party and PC telling the guys to make sure us girls were safe.

Really I've come to accept it now. Even embrace it. I am (I'm never going to repeat this so enjoy it while it lasts) I am a Princess. There I said it. Happy? How did this happen you ask? Good question. I have no clue. While that's not true. I have a clue. It comes back to identity and God. As a Christian I'm a daughter of God. God is THE King, by default I'm a... princess. And with being a princess there are some expectations to be sure. To be ladylike and... such. It means letting guys open doors for you, and carry all the heavy stuff. It means texting them when you get home so they know you arrived safely. It's letting them walk you home because it's getting dark. And not because you are incapable of doing so (I've walked alone at night in Calgary when I was twelve. My little town don't scare me) it's because we are called to love and honour one another. And we love and honour guys by letting them do the above listed things (which is by no means exhaustive).

I think I realized I was a Princess the other day at work actually. I had just filled up the ice coffee container with five or so pots of coffee and equal amounts of ice. Thereby it was heavy. I asked a friend of mine AnPa if he could lift it back to where it went for me. Jokingly he asked why he had to do it (as he was lifting it) and I replied "Well for one, you're stronger. And two you're the guy" (he understood by what I meant by that comment, some people at work would look at me blankly for a comment like that)

Insta-revelation

Yay for being a Princess...

That's my kind of Princess :D

Hollie.

Growing up Girl

So I figure I'll break down my intern year into a few different categories. Today was me becoming a girl.

Yes I have always been a girl. No I did not have an operation to make me a girl. Yes I am being serious.

What I meant was how I grew into being a girly girl. Gee people ;)

So I went into Interns not caring about being a girl. I wore the same ugly flats every day, I wore the same dark coloured type clothes. I had long dark hair with no bangs. Seriously none. I would hide behind my hair or throw it up into a ponytail.

                                                 Me then -> -> ->

Right after going to Cambodia the girls on my team convinced me to get at least side bangs. So I did. At prom  I had a nice dress - first time I dressed up. My cousin took me to go get my hair done professionally. I would have been happy if she just curled it herself and just pinned it back. And she did my make-up. I was, to be honest, really annoyed at that. I did not want my make-up done. I had had my mind made up years ago that make-up made people ugly - or at least made then fake. But I really had no say in the matter, I was to wear make-up for prom. She always wanted to attack my eyebrows but I'm quiet attached to them.

In Interns that was challenged. KS grew up with make-up. She had a different view. If you know her you know she is IMPOSSIBLE to argue with. So I wouldn't. I just didn't argue with her. Yet I changed.

It was all God. As I grew to know who He was truly (or better then I knew before) and who I was in Him I grew to love myself. As I grew to love myself then suddenly I was trying more.

I went for multiple haircuts. My hair kept getting shorter and shorter. I dyed it red (and then dark purple which faded to red, but that was more recent). I mastered the art of wearing heels (short ones at least) and worked my way up to higher ones. My clothes got colour (specifically purple but still) and really just looked better all over.

<- <- <- Me now

And really that was all God teaching me to love myself. In order to love myself I had to love Him. As I grew to love Him, I grew to love myself. As you grow to love yourself you grow in your capacity to love others.

And really all things considered my hair and clothes and awesome purple high heels were just an outward show of an inward change.

Hollie.

Framily of Eight

For the sake of my sanity in my re-naming of people. They are now just initials. Cause if I am to keep making up names I will be SO confused. For the most part at least.

So I decided to do Interns. The presumed bane of my existence. I thought it would be whatever. A few classes, helping out in church. Whatever. Get in, do the program, get out. No problem.

Boy was I wrong.

Melody was going to do Interns as well. That calmed my nerves a bit. At least I would know one person in the program. All together there would be eight of us (largest class yet). Two second years, and six first years. Two guys and six girls. (The two guys were not the second years). For girls there were KS and S (both were the second years) Melody, me, K-A, Eva. For the boys there was JJ and Jay. They boys are brothers. JJ is the older one (hence two J's - okay actually JJ was just the nickname he somehow got from S). And I was supposed to get along with all seven of them o.O

We started off on a retreat at a cabin. That is were I met a close friend of mine Bonnie. But during this retreat I tried to retreat from everybody. I wasn't really a people person. I liked my books. I liked to write. I did not like people. One of the hardest parts of it was one of the nights when we each had to share our testimony. I kinda skimmed over it. A brief over view of my life. Pretty much a "life sucks, and I'm here" type of over view.

Classes started the following week. The class I remember most really was the one which we read the book "Breaking Intimidation" by John Bevere (affectionately called JohnnyB by our class) which was all about over coming fears and not being intimidated. I had a lot of fears. Chances are if you named something I was afraid of it. Or "strongly disliked in an avoiding fashion"

In some ways it was just like school. There were classes three days a week AND homework. But the classes were just in the morning. In the afternoon we would do ministry tracks. For example before Christmas was a lot of painting. We were painting a few more scenes for our churches annual Nativity Drive-Thru.

If that was it I would be fine. But no. Interns thrives on correcting your attitude. If you have a bad attitude it will be confronted. And it is expected that you will change it.

I had an awful attitude. I was rude, cynical, insincere, and avoiding. A part of it was immaturity, and a part of it was insecurity. All of it was wrong, unacceptable, and needed to be changed. Not that I wanted it to. Change hurts. I didn't like (still don't actually...) pain. Even good pain. (I can handle small doses of 'good pain' now) When an attitude had to be confronted, there was a Confrontation (or an Oreo). I had so many - at least once a month I think.

S was my accountability partner. She become kinda like my big sister. So did KS as well. They kinda tag-teamed big sister me. S would initiate something KS would bring it through.

For example: I didn't wear make-up, I had long stringy hair (that I hid behind) and kinda baggy clothes (that were dark brown mostly and black). I didn't look people in the eye and avoided lots of conversations. S challenged me (in a loving sisterly way) to boost my confidence. She said "find something that makes you feel pretty and do it." My people pleasing mind went "What would make S the happiest if I was to do it? Make-up!" Let me just say - at the time make-up did not make me feel pretty. Make-up made me feel like a fake and a phony. As a young teen when I felt ugly I would cake my face with make-up until I looked horrible and then would wash it off so I could "feel pretty" again. So make-up went against what S said but it would have made her happy.

That day I went to KS to see if she would help me go buy make-up. She agreed (to this day KS is like the big sister I never had). She took me that Friday to Walmart and I got some eyeshadow (the kind that they match to eye colour and tells you how to apply it) mascara and lip gloss. I was smiling and happy, but more because I got to hang out with KS and not because I was getting make-up.

That's just one example of KS and S investing into my life. S would be the first tell to get over myself (in better words then that) and always encouraging me to tear down the walls that I had built up around myself. I'm sure if you gave her the sledgehammer she would have attacked them herself. And in a lot of ways she did. God worked a lot through her to make me me.

And all this was before Christmas.

Hollie.

ANYTHING but that

As graduation approached I needed to find something to do after school was out. For good. Not just for summer. For good. To be frank the idea of graduating terrified me. I remember crying myself to sleep some nights because I didn't want to graduate. Not just because I liked school - but I liked the routine and consistency that school offered.

So I tried to apply for this program that would let me travel to either Germany Switzerland or Holland (the program picked where) and learn German (or Dutch if I was to go to Holland). My German teacher had suggested it to us in our grade 11 and 12 year. They never even got back to me. So I decided I would apply to the local university. I wasn't really interested in university. But I figured if I had to do something that would be fine. I'd get a BA in English or something. I lost my first application and forgot to send in the second.

There was a reason I was trying to get into anything. ANYTHING. No really. Anything. Anything but this program my church offered. It's called Interns. It's a discipleship program. Kinda like an intense Bible school and the application of what you learn in the school. All at once. I had so many youth leaders suggesting that I go. For some reason I didn't want to go. I would rather do anything - ANYTHING - then do that. I said it was because it was "expected" of me to go - kinda like you graduate and go to Interns. Just what you do at our church (total lie but still)

However nothing I tried to go to really worked.

So I did Interns.

I mean really - what else was there to do. I still was a people pleaser. The leaders wanted me to do Interns. It would make then happy. Tada!!!

It would start the following September.

Theme: I Have a Dream

I love dreams. I dream all the time. I figured it would be good. I hope you will think it was good too.

But next time so I don't make an uber-long post.

Hollie

Missions Trip #1

Like I said in my last post I went to Cambodia with my school. I was on a team with five guys, four other girls, (eight grade 12's two grade 11's), a teacher, his wife, and one of his daughters (all his children were out of school and old enough to be married). The ministry we were connecting with was run by this teacher's son.

The joke of the trip was that if our teacher could have hand picked his team from all the missions applicants  (teachers don't pick their teams) he would have picked the team he got. Three out of five guys on our team played basketball - of those three one also played volleyball. Another guy was the sports rep. We had a cheerleader, a girls volleyball team member, and all told three student council members. And those of us who didn't fit into any of those categories (like three of us) knew how to do well in his class and were smart. His favourite types of students were jocks, student council people, and smart people.

I'll be honest I don't really remember much of the trip. I know I didn't always have the world's greatest (or even a semi-decent) attitude.

We started off in Phom Phen where an old teacher of ours was now the vice-principal of a missions school. We went to Seim Reep for our 'fun days' and spent the most of our two weeks in Poi Pet. The children were so much fun to be around - although they could be a little violent and didn't quite get the concept of 'ow'

The one cool thing about the trip though - and really the reason I wanted to mention the trip at all - was Sunday. Throughout the entire trip there was a bit of a debate going on.

TOPIC

Holy Spirit and speaking in tongues.

POSITIVE

Even today you can be baptized in the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues

NEGATIVE

You can't.

The year that went before us got one epic downpour of rain. We thought that sounded amazing (it was so hot over there) so we prayed all week for rain. Every night there were electrical storms - lightening but never ever any thunder. On Sunday we do church and then have the afternoon off. During this afternoon it starts to rain. And it doesn't just rain it POURS. Huge fat raindrops that soak you to the bone - but you didn't get chilled because it was still hot out. It was so much fun. We, a bunch of mennonite kids, (if your menno you'll understand) we dancing in the rain eating mango's. It was great we could eat the mango's and not get sticky.

Now Hollie, you're thinking, you were talking about baptism and speaking in tongues. You're right I was. This was part of the day. The rain was a bit of for shadow for the evening.

So like I said we had a debating on the Holy Spirit the entire time. I was leading the Negative side of the debate. Anyway our teacher wisely saw how this could tear us apart and decided to have a discussion (not mandatory) on it. Nine out of ten of us were up there.

The long and short of it was that going into the night only two people (three including the teacher) could speak it tongues. After teaching on it one of the guys wanted to be prayed over for it. The teacher wasn't expecting anything to happen but prayed anyway. He was baptized and was speaking it tongues. And then slowly but surly all nine of us were filled with the Holy Spirit and speaking it tongues. We had a Holy Spirit party right there.

Funny thing was - was that we were in the highest room of the building we were staying it (it was a roof/room/patio type of room) - kind of an upper room experience.

Acts 2 if you don't know what I'm talking about.

CONCLUSION

Positive

Even today you can be baptized in the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues.

If you don't agree - well to bad. Sorry but I know it's true, not just because it happened to me but because it's in the Bible. You don't have to agree with me - I'll still love you.

Sorry about the long post - I just wanted to cover the whole trip.

Until next time

Hollie.

Romans 8:28 in Grade 12

In grade 11 Kelly joined our group of friends. Why, I don't really know. I think she felt weird in her old group of friends - she really only hung out with them because her best friend was in that group. I don't know why she joined, but I'm sure glad she did. At the time I wasn't. She was loud. She was obnoxiously. She could do things that would get others really annoyed - but she could get away with it just because it was her. She was everything that ticked me off about most people. She is now one of my bestest friends. Isn't it funny what God will do.

I met another one of my closest bestest friends in grade 11. Melody was as quiet and as shy as I was. She loved books just as much as I did. She started going to ACA a few months after I did. It was friendship at first church van ride.

Grade 11 was pretty much uneventful after that. Although  did start to discover God more. Its hard to really say how. But I was in an environment that was perfectly suited for me to grow and learn. As if I was the right flower in the right garden. There was nothing wrong with the garden I had previously been planted in - I was just the wrong flower for that garden. At ACA I just fit. And God made sense. Now I could visit other gardens (even for more then one Sunday in a row) and gain some nutrients and learn lots about God - useful true facts and revelations - but I would still be firmly planted in ACA. Until such time as God sees fit to plant me somewhere else (not too soon, or at all if possible....)

The other big event of grade 11 was that I remember crying late into the night about not wanting to graduate. I was getting better at doing homework and I loved having my school friends around. And while I didn't like getting up early every morning I loved going to school. It was routine. It made sense. I had been doing it for the majority of my life. School made sense and I did not want to graduate. It was inevitable but I didn't want to.

In the summer between grade 11 and grade 12 I got my first ever (and only ever) job. I had been hunting for one. In clothing stores and such places. The only place I didn't want to work at was a fast food joint. I don't know why I just didn't. My aunt challenged me on this saying that I thought that "I was too good to work at McDonalds" that was were I really didn't want to work. However I was going to prove her wrong (not please her - prove her wrong. There is a difference. Apparently). That Saturday I took my resume down to the closest McDonalds and was given an application. I filled it out, handed it in and was told to come back the next day for an interview. So on Sunday I came back for my interview and was told after a few questions "Well we've already decided we were going to hire you..." the next week I started. I started on a July 3rd. That was three years ago. I still work there.

No its not sad that I still work at McDonalds. I quiet love my job thank you very much.

Anyways. So I got the job pretty easily. And then suddenly I wanted a car. Never mind that I was only about to turn sixteen and wouldn't be able to drive this car myself for another year at least. It would take that long to save up. So I wanted a car and was very frugal about spending my money. I never did get that car.

Instead I did something better. See every year at my school there were missions trips. Over sea's missions trips. Open to grade 11's and 12's. Grade 10 and up could go to Mexico though. I didn't really want to go at first. In grade 11 I thought it would be impossible to go cause I would never have the money. In grade 12 I wasn't sure. But me and my dad went to a meeting and suddenly I just really really really really really wanted to go. And I had enough saved up for at least the first 2 payments. I wanted to go to Thailand.

Instead I went to Cambodia. But that's a post all in and of itself. For next time.

What I do have to say is how much I love that God just works everything together. Like it says in Romans 8:28 "And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose."

I went from thinking Kelly was annoying to her being one of my closest friends. And me and Melody hit it of right away (with a lot of bumps along the way as I will explain later). And my getting the job so easily with the desire for a car (that went away almost as soon as I decided I wanted to go on a missions trip) so that I would have money saved up and ready to go on a missions trip.

I wouldn't have been able to orchestrate that even in my wildest dreams. And trust me - my dreams are pretty strange.

Hollie.

Faithful week after week

We ended up at my Oma's church. Again, it was a good church, and I'm sure now I could go there and actually learn something. But at the time I totally thought it was boring, and would want to fall asleep in the service. It wasn't long until I was just going to Sunday School before church but not the actual service itself. During the summer there was no Sunday School so I wouldn't go to church at all in the summer.

So anyways I went to one of three private schools in my town (all thanks to my great-aunt). It was a Christian school (all of the private schools here are I believe). The first day was like every other first day of a new school. I didn't know anyone and didn't talk to anyone. It was awkward and uncomfortable. I got my locker and met the only person next to me (I had an end locker), her name was Gale (again all these are made up names). She was a lot like me. Quiet and liked books. It was also her first day at the school and didn't know anyone. I followed her around like a lost puppy for the first few weeks until I found a place to sit at lunch and before school and kinda talk with people. It took all the way to June but I finally had made a group of friends. There was (originally) five of us. Me, Gale, Laura, Katie, Sonya. We spent the entire summer e-mail each other becoming the best of friends.

Grade 10 was great. I was in the same school and this time I had a group of friends to look forward to seeing and catching up with. It was great. Although towards the middle/end of it Sonya kinda split between us and another group. But really nothing notable in grade 10, until summer.

Summer was when I made my ultimatum with my dad that eventually rocked my life. I was fed up with going to church for no reason. So I told my dad, either we find a new church or I was not going to go anymore. He agreed. I thought maybe we'd try out the Pentecostal church again. However my Dad had heard of this other church ACA, and suggested it. I didn't really care, so we went. On the way there I gave God my conditions - if I didn't fall asleep or feel like I was going to fall asleep in the service then I would stay. Pastor Cory was preaching. PC (as we eventually called him) is nearly impossible to fall asleep too. He was the youth pastor, and he has a habit of yelling a line or two when he's passionate about what he's preaching (which happens a lot) and when he isn't yelling he isn't monotoned either. I liked it. Plus everyone there was super nice. So we returned the next week and the senior pastor was preaching. And while he didn't yell he was funny and wasn't dry either. So we returned the next week. And the next week. And the next. And the next. And we still go there now.

In September I started going to their youth group, and that was nerve racking because I was still shy. For the longest time, until after I graded I think, I would bring my writing book, sit on the couch and write until it was time to start. I have to give a lot of credit to the youth leaders who would take the time to sit and talk with me and try to draw me out of my tightly locked up shell. It must have been awkward because I wouldn't respond the greatest (as in I only gave one or two word answers and didn't really know how to converse) and they probably had to ask me the same questions week after week. But a lot of who I am now is in result of them being faithful to ask me those same questions every Tuesday and every Tuesday get the same one or two word answers.

We'll cover the rest of high school next time, but I'm trying to make my posts not unbearably long. So.... til next time. It shouldn't hopefully be too far in waiting.

Hollie.

Painted Target

Hey look, another posts in only a few day :O I know you're all in shock and awe. I take no responsibility for the outcomes of your shock. Just saying.

I'm kinda tired, which means I'm slightly cynical. I'm gonna try my best to be super positive - or at least positive. Even then apparently I'm good at faking it. For example today I was super nauseous at work, and when my manager finally saw me (I work in a drive-thru) she asked what was wrong, I told her, and she asked if I could last another forty-five minutes (I was off then) and I said "Sure I've been lasting for six hours and fifteen minutes now" and she was shocked cause I sounded so upbeat on the headset (I thought I had sounded dead and in pain, but maybe that's just cause that was how I felt)

Anyway, back to where we were.

I had become a "Christian" (heavy sarcastic quotations) to make some little old lady happy. How utterly like me. Anyways, it wasn't really a heart changing commitment. My life went on as normal. I'm pretty sure I went home and watched a Harry Potter movie that day. Or soon after. I hardly read my Bible (in fact I found it kinda boring and would want to fall asleep). School started up again. Grade 8, first year of High School in that town so I was now in School 10. If I may - it was the worst year of school EVER.

See I was used to being the new kid. And the strange quiet new kid at that. Until now I had been okay at making friends. Not a master of it. In fact usually I changed how I acted to make friends. But at that school I was a fresh water fish in the salty salty ocean. It didn't help either, that my mom pulled me out of school for a month to go visit her in Ontario (she had moved away from Alberta to go live with live-in-Internet-boyfriend#3 Bryce) which was just like living with her all over again. But I come back to school, almost failed the first semester of grade 8 (not unusual but my mom was super angry that I almost failed. My fault of course). Right sorry, I promised not to be cynical.

In order to save time I'll sum up grade 8. I didn't really make a friend until after Christmas. I spent every lunch hour in the library (you could eat there as long as you didn't take your food to the books or the books to a table with food and if the food didn't smell bad) and I read a lot of books. We lived just out of town in an old house with no neighbours, no cable and no computer. I watched a lot of movies or we rented a TV series season from the video store. A girl spat in my hair once and put gum in my hair twice. She made fun of me for pretty much everything. It was too the point I was ready to go to a different school. Only there was no other school to go to. I think she was kicked out for the rest of the year. And then suddenly all of her friends were super nice to me and hating her. Honestly I don't think I will ever understand that. Grade eight was when I really developed a love for writing. In grade seven I had started writing, but grade eight was when it really took off in my mind.

The church I went to was really fun. It was a Pentecostal church - so different from the Mennonite church we went to with my Oma (grandma) and even different from the Catholic church I went to in Ontario. I loved it, but I didn't grow much. Not that it was that churches fault. They tried to help me, they really did. But I didn't really trust people, and I was super shy (or maybe nervous and hesitant is a better description) I did change slightly I'm sure but looking back I can't say how much. I remember trying to be this good Christian girl that was expected of me, and trying to fit that into my desire to have magic. I knew I couldn't have magic now, it was a big 'no-no' in the Bible, but I still wanted it in some way. I tried to write stories where the main character used to be a witch but now wasn't allowed to use magic. Or things like that. I'm sure some of my leaders at church weren't too thrilled whenever I told them of my stories. Like I said, they were trying to help me. They really were. I just wasn't open to it.

It was an awesome church though. I cried when we left it to move here. Back were I was born actually. My dad had a job offer with his brother in construction. We left pretty much as soon as my grade 8 exams were over.

We berried my Grandma (not Oma) that year. She had died when I was twelve and was cremated but my Grandpa couldn't (or wouldn't I don't know) barry her until then. I was registered to go to the nearest public high school (in this town high school started in grade 9 so I was starting my first year of high school for a second time) as our town has five public high schools, a traditional school (elementary, middle and high) a Catholic schools (elementary, middle, and high) and a Mennonite school (E, M, H as well). Anyway I was registered for one of the public schools but I really wanted to go tot the Mennonite school. The only problem was it was too expensive for a single father with a construction job to pay for. However at my Grandma's funeral one of my great-aunts, upon learning where I wanted to go offered to pay for me to go to the school I wanted. So I was removed from one school and put into the Mennonite one (this was all before the school year started though so it's all good)

We had also tried to find a church here. First we went to the Pentecostal church but I didn't like it. So instead of trying church after church we just went back to my Oma's Mennonite church. Which I had always thought was boring, and my view of it hadn't really changed much.

Such is life I guess.

I hope I wasn't too cynical for you today. But we are now in my favourite parts of life now. Cause from grade nine on, life has been pretty good.

Hollie.

No Boyfriend Nessissary

Hehe, so it's been a while since I've posted yes. I've been busy. Out of town, went to the states, my mom is living at my house. That would be the main reason I haven't been as faithful to my blogging as I should, I can't seem to get to the computer as often as I would like. But I am here now, posting now and fingers crossed I'll be posting again soon. -> Who knew what a commitment this would be. Seriously who needs a boyfriend, blogging takes up enough of my time ;)

It's funny but right now I kind of want to jump ahead and say all the amazing things that are going on in my life right now instead of jumping into the past. I said I wouldn't and I won't really - much. By the end of  this I will be back on track, I promise. But then again, I can't really say what is going on right now because I haven't gotten to the beginning of what it was. Is. The beginning of what it is. Kinda frustrating I must say. So, I won't be staying in now, I'm sorry. Please buckle your seat belts as we once again jump into the past. I promise the better stuff is coming.

So I left off, in case you were wondering and even if you weren't, with me leaving to go visit my grandparents and my dad in the summer between grades five and six. So the original plan was spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa, spend a week with my Dad, go home. Plans changed. I started off a week with my daddy. That was fun I'm sure. I always had good times with my Dad. He wasn't one to yell or scream. And then I spent a week with my grandparents in Alberta.

It was supposed to be one week. But as any ten almost eleven year-old would do, I talked. I talked and I talked and I talked. And when on the phone with my mom, my grandma heard other things about how life with mom and Dean really was and it was decided. It was decided that I would be staying in Alberta and not going back to Ontario. Grandma and Grandpa gave Mom an option, either she came to Alberta, without Dean, or she wouldn't get to see me again. And for the first time in, well, in pretty much my entire life it seemed, she picked me over Dean. But she couldn't get out to Alberta. So, my Grandma and Grandpa decided they would go get her in October.

I started grade 6 in Alberta, which means I also started School 7. Until my mom came I lived with my Cousin Karen, her boyfriend, and every other week her boyfriend's two boys. I would live with them except for on Wednesday nights and weekends when I would stay at my grandparents so I could call my mom. I lived with Karen and family because they were closer to School 7. That was were I met Rachel. Rachel became my best friend.

Rachel believed in ghosts. I didn't. But she did so I did. And then eventually, of course I believed in ghosts. Why wouldn't I? But not only did Rachel and I believe we could see ghosts but we believed we could talk to them, communicate with them and fight them. Because most of these ghosts were evil and were trying to kill us, we decided. Again looking back I'm not sure if this was just some game for her (like my friends in grade 5 pretending we were going to a Canadian version of Hogwarts) or not, but I really believed it was real. And if you think of it, just substitute ghost for spirits (as I'm sure I would have eventually) and voila! I was heading down a New Age path.

It made sense to me. To live in this world of ghosts that I could kill (kill a ghost... the eleven/twelve year old me didn't quite realize you can't kill the dead or unliving but still....) cause I did have an imagination and fantasy was so much better then reality. During grade 6 Mom's second live-in-Internet boyfriend Aaron came and went. And things with him there were bad, and things with him gone were bad. With this baby step New Age stuff I was free to do whatever.

At the end of grade 6 I moved schools again. But this time because I had finished elementary school and was now in middle school. So I started grade 7 and School 8. I stopped talking with Rachel because we went to different schools now - and my mom decided she didn't like Rachel. In grade 7 it wasn't as bad as I was told it would be. I had a group of friends pretty much right away and what a strange bunch we were. I think there was five of us girls who all believed in ghosts and we believed our schools girl locker room was haunted and we were going to get to the bottom of it. We would say little "prayer" like spells before going in because it would protect us and such.

So I decided I would become a witch. A real one mind, not some fake Harry Potter wannabe. But a real witch. So one night I managed to wrestle the computer away from my mom (she was in bed) and I googled (yay for google!!!!) "How to be a witch" No really I did. I found one sight that sounded legit to my twelve year old mind (cause you know you know everything at the age of twelve). The only problem being was that it would cost $60 a month. I was twelve. I didn't have $60 period let alone enough money to pay $60 every month. And I was too much of a goody-goody and to scared to set up a fake account. So that ended my outwards searching to become a witch. But I'm sure, if I had stayed in Alberta I would have eventually succeeded.

I did not finish grad 7 in School 8. In February of that year my Dad, who lived a short Greyhound bus trip away invited me up for a visit over a long weekend. I said sure (anything to get away from home) and while I was there I begged him not to make me go home. So he didn't. He even told my mom because I was to afraid to tell her. She was extremely displeased. That's putting it lightly. If putting it lightly is like saying the sun is slightly toasty.

So started School 9. People there didn't believe in ghosts or spirits or saying spells to protect you. Or at least none that I knew of. So I stopped - but again it was more outward then inward. I truly truly was a people pleaser. And then in the summer between grade 7 and 8 (oh School 9 was an elementary school that only went to grade 7) something very random happened. I remembered going to Sunday School as a kid with my Dad and going to church with Carol in Ontario.

I wanted to go to church.

I told my dad as such and so we went to church, the Sunday before my 13th birthday. I ended up sitting next to this little old lady. And because I knew it would make her happy, like I said I was a people pleaser to the core, at the end of the service I responded to the alter call. Ta-da. Christian.

Dysfunctional or what?

Hollie.