tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6084405836761008682024-03-13T17:11:05.789-04:00twice as sharpChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-60732774709282355242012-05-08T23:17:00.004-04:002012-06-23T01:01:08.897-04:00what matters the most<div style="font-family: inherit;">
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">after Granddad's stint in the hospital last weekend, you'd think the last thing we would need would be someone trying to break into our house in the middle of the night. but that's what happened. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">oh, and i got food poisoning. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">and B left for san antonio for two and half months. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">i think one of the last things i said to him before he left, puke breath and all, was me promising him that if i wasn't abducted by the time i saw him next, that i'd look prettier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">but he pulled my chin up, looked straight into my blood-shot eyes and make-up-less face and said, "you are so beautiful." and on his way to give me a kiss on the mouth, i think it dawned on him that i'd been puking for 12 straight hours, so he made a quick u-turn north to my forehead, where he planted a very sweet and adorable goodbye-for-now kiss. <br /><br />he told me on the phone last night that he almost started crying when he left-- and y'all, B <i>never</i> cries. in all the 2+ years i've known him, i have still never seen him cry. and that makes me want to cry. but knowing that he was close to crying makes me a little bit happy. this is twisted, i know.<br /><br />after the break-in, it's been frustrating for us to to figure things out. like if we're going to try to find another place to live and how we're going to get the money to do that, and if not, then trying to figure out how we're going to get the money to secure our current house so that i don't have to fear for my life while he's gone. it was frustrating finding out that my job can't guarantee that part-timers will be moved to full-time <i>ever</i>, even though they're hiring 40 new full-time advisors this summer. (because that obviously makes sense). </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">and it was really</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> frustrating not being able to go 30 minutes without puking up pepto-bismol and buffalo wings for a whole night and day. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">but now it's time to be grateful. grateful for how B didn't get hurt or murdered by said loser who tried to break into our house, for me not being sicker than i was, for great parents, grandparents, brothers, and a wonderful sister-in-law, for the few close friends i have that pray for us, for a part-time job that i at least really love, for safe travels and amazing opportunities for B, and for a God who protects and heals and gives and takes.<br /> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">and even though we're poor as dirt (according to america's standards), don't have a bed to sleep in once we're married, and might get killed or abducted anyway, we momentarily have each other. but even more importantly, we momentarily have the opportunity to live out a picture of Christ's covenant love. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br />we're most satisfied when He is being most glorified-- even in the midst of what we think is hard or difficult. we just have to choose to see the eternal things, trust in His ways, and believe Him for all He has done, all He is doing, and for all He will continue to do. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i><br /></i>exes and oh's dear people,<br />-C</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: small;"><i></i></span></span></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-50376620504361307402012-05-02T00:42:00.001-04:002012-05-02T15:50:50.790-04:00together<br />
it's one thing <i>talking</i> about getting married, but it's another thing knowing that in 87 days you'll actually <i>be</i> married. <br />
<i><br /></i>this evening i sat at B's desk sniffing his freshly bought toiletries: men's body wash, men's clarifying shampoo, and men's old spice deodorant. and then it dawned on me that i'm actually marrying a man. a full blown man. a man that trims his beard, doesn't wash his hands, and cooks his bacon in butter.<br />
<br />
he is a total man.<br />
<br />
and we'll have to share a bathroom. and a closet. and chores. and a bed. and, you know-- <i>every</i>thing. we'll have to be patient with one another. and unselfish. understanding. loving. forgiving. and while all of that <i>completely</i> excites me -- it does somehow unnerve me a little. we're both entirely human, entirely sinful, and entirely different. <br />
<br />
we can't just leave the house and return to our own apartments when we get irritated with one another.<br />
we can't hog all the covers.<br />
we can't make a cup of coffee without making the other person a cup of coffee.<br />
we can't really do anything the same way we've been doing them. <br />
<br />
we'll need to grow up.<br />
we'll need to adjust.<br />
we'll need to depend on Jesus.<br />
and we'll need to laugh a lot.<br />
<br />
<i>...together.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>and that's the best part about all of this, y'all--<br />
it's that we'll be in this marriage thing together.<i> for-freaking-ever.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-6960272307284127762012-04-30T23:10:00.001-04:002012-05-09T00:35:09.706-04:00granddad<br />on saturday night, my granddad was rushed into emergency surgery after having been at the hospital since 5am that morning. i spent most of the evening on the floor of my bedroom praying and crying. as much as i wanted to detach myself from the reality that i could lose my granddad at any moment, i couldn't bare to leave that floor. i felt desperate to keep praying for a miracle-- just as desperate as i was to <i>believe</i> God for a miracle. my sweet fiance had bid me some advice on prayer a few days before,<br />
<br />
"pray as if [a miracle] already happened."<br />
<br />
we got word around seven thirty that the doctors were able to find where the bleeding was coming from and that they were able to stop it. not only that, but that the doctor was "very happy" with the surgery and how everything looked.<br />
<br />
relief washed over me like a spring rain.<i><br />i get to fall asleep tonight with my granddad alive and well.</i><br />
<br />
that night, grandma walked in our door to hug us all. she whispered in my ear at how worried granddad was that he wouldn't be able to make it to my wedding. i laughed a little. only granddad would worry about such a thing before emergency surgery. <br />
<br />
he's talked me through countless heartaches-- usually resulting in the bottom line of "focus on school and get that paper." and while he's still pushing for my academics, lately he's been saying how proud he is of me that i chose to "keep things simple" for my wedding. he's been offering up plenty of marital wisdom-- that of "move far away from your family," to "your husband is your absolute best friend aside from Jesus...he is the most important thing."<br />
<br />
there are only a few people in my life who actually get me-- people who don't always assume the worst of me. my granddad is one of those people. he chooses to see the best in me when i'm at the worst of me. he's also quite introverted and analytical like me, and doesn't call me out for being "anti-social" at family dinners. he knows it's just because i'm reveling in something, and instead of forcing me out of it, he asks to be apart of it. i have never felt unloved, rejected, or misunderstood by my grandfather. i have only ever felt special.<br />
<br />
i am thankful that i can thank God for the gift of my grandfather tonight, y'all. <br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-72529264479508026152012-04-23T23:13:00.002-04:002012-05-02T01:13:21.178-04:00satan pillsi feel like it's been a long time. has it been a long time? a month maybe?<br />
<br />
i'm well into my new job, and it's great. i've had a few major realizations amidst the newness of the season-- the biggest and most life-altering one is that i discovered that i am indeed, an introvert. the even bigger discovery is that i am an introvert... <i>and it's okay. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>all this time i've just thought i was crazy and un-Christian. but, nope. just introverted. <br />
<br />
birth control pills on the other hand, now <i>those</i> make me crazy. enough crazy to make me contemplate running my car off the side of the road. i just don't know what it is about them, but they just make me feel completely strange and suicidal. pretty sure if i stay on them, i might not make it to my wedding -- and if i do make it to my wedding, i'll never make it to the bed. B would probably annul our marriage before we ever got the opportunity to consummate it. and thus why it's called birth control.<br />
<br />
<br />
oh, the things a soon-to-be wife must do to keep the little kiddos at bay-- but, seriously-- there has GOT to be another way. these satan pills have got to go.<br />
<br />
<br />
-c<br />
<br />Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-14529541900135503122012-03-20T21:53:00.014-04:002012-04-30T16:27:44.735-04:00good thingslast month and the month before it, i cried every night of my life. maybe it had to do with working 64 hour weeks and not having any time to sleep, eat, shower, study, plan a wedding, or see my man. it's a theory at least.<br />
but, OH! how the times have changed.<br />
<br />
y'all, I GOT A JOB. and it's an absolutely <i>wonderful</i> job at Liberty University! i can actually work part-time and make just as much money as i was making full-time at my last job <i>and</i> i'll be closer to B and closer to our friends.<i> fa-reaking p</i><i>raises</i>!<br />
<br />
this little gap between employment has honestly been the most wonderful time of my life. He has not let me lack in anything-- not even monetarily. in fact, He's provided even <i>more</i> generously since i ventured into the realms of unemployment-- with both income and character. we are so blessed to have a Father who looks after His children in times of plenty and need. why, oh, why do we ever worry?<br />
<br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-43403324183430590702012-03-07T16:01:00.098-05:002012-04-25T22:39:18.144-04:00on rings, things, and the Gospel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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i used to tell B that I didn't want a typical engagement ring; that instead, i would rather have a super thin, diamond eternity band. the day he picked me up and whisked me off to an estate jewelry store was the day i tried on the ring that i currently have on my finger. although it wasn't a simple band, it was beautiful, and antique, and unique, and really, really...ahem...expensive.<br />
<br />
totally kidding. <br />
<br />
it really wasn't all that expensive. it was actually wayyyy less than what he had planned to spend. so affordable in fact, that he made me try on more expensive rings because he couldn't bring himself to buy his future wife a ring that cost as much as the tv he bought a month prior. although the other rings were bigger and flashier and more expensive, i fell in love with the cheapest one i tried on. i honestly just liked it the best. go me.<br />
<br />
since being engaged, i've heard both Christian extremes on all things nuptial; one of the extremes claiming that engagement rings are merely materialistic and that people should forgo them and be more concerned with their marriage and the Gospel. excuse me, whaaa? who says you can't be focused on the real meaning of marriage and have a diamond ring on your finger? to be fair, i get where they're coming from and i think they're right about a few things. engagement rings <i>are</i> a materialistic thing. and people <i>do</i> need to be more concerned with the Gospel. but in one sense, the sense that flows from one sense right into the other, i believe they're a little misled.<br />
<br />
owning a diamond ring does not make a person materialistic. if that were the case, then there would be a heck of a lot of Christian women in sin for donning a symbol of covenant love. materialism isn't dependent upon things owned, but upon an excessive, unhealthy desire<i> </i>to own them. it's a heart issue. a pauper who owns nothing can be more materialistic than a king who has it all yet thinks nothing of it. having a big diamond ring doesn't make a person any less Gospel centered, and <i>not</i> having a big diamond ring doesn't mean they're <i>less</i> materialistic or any <i>more</i> Gospel centered.<br />
<br />
but yes, our culture has it's traditions and concepts of what those traditions should look like-- especially surrounding marriage. i glare every day at the average $26k price tag of what the world says my wedding "should" cost. upon my own convictions, there's no way in Sheol i'd ever spend that much just to say "i do." but i also won't sit around and insinuate that couples who have $26k weddings are less Gospel centered than those who don't.<br />
<br />
the only thing that makes someone Gospel centered is the Gospel. the Gospel isn't constrained by our prosperity or by the lack thereof-- the Gospel is about Christ.<br />
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i think the principle that's being missed in all of this is that it is never about things. it's never about having them and it's never about <i>not</i> having them. it <i>is</i> about Christ. it <i>is</i> about being content in Him and counting all else as rubbish compared to Him (phil 3:8). we should hold onto things loosely, but it is OK that we hold them if given to us. they do, after all, come from Him. as long as Christ is our identity and the Spirit gives us the go-ahead, we can have a Gospel centered marriage and a ring, too-- "for from him and through him and to him are all things."<br />
<br />
i wanna hear your thoughts on this y'all...if you're out there. how do you remain Gospel-centered in the midst of a consumerist, materialistic world? is there a "balance" we should keep or should we really turn our back on it all? <br />
<br />
and brides or bride-to-be's: how did you or how do you keep perspective while rearing heads with the wedding industry? is there anything you forewent in order to maintain a holy perspective?<br />
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</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-65386713399131211492012-03-06T00:37:00.036-05:002012-05-02T01:16:46.347-04:00boredom leads to dogswell, to start things off, i'm not working anymore which has been absolutely UH-mazing! i've <i>really</i> enjoyed having my sanity back along with ample time to focus on college. now it's just a matter of figuring out how to make and save a little extra money for married life. not really worried about it, though. <br />
<br />
this past thursday brandon and i realized that we've officially exhausted every movie in the known universe. we ended up driving circles around lynchburg for thirty minutes trying to find something to do. still stumped, we stopped in at a pet store and bought a puppy.<br />
and y'all-- oh my gosh. <i>he. is. so. sweet. </i>if i could squeeze him lennie style without killing him, i totes would.<br />
<br />
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after tearing myself away from our new baby, i headed off to staunton the day after to lead worship at a women's retreat where we discussed the theme of "moving on." it was my first women's retreat ever, and i absolutely fell in LOVE with everyone there. not only that, but it was the first time in a very, very, very long time that i've felt genuinely loved by anyone other than Jesus, my family and brandon. i can't even begin to tell you just how plum lonely i've been, but this weekend gave me hope for friendship and fellowship. i trust Him for it and i know that He'll bring it along in His timing...along with a heart that will receive it. <br />
<br />
whatever season i'm moving into next, bloggies-- i anticipate it fully. i know that God isn't through with me yet. He will provide me with what He knows i need. at times it's uncomfortable and at times it's beautiful, but forever faithful, He is.<br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-72744839692223019102012-02-23T13:03:00.009-05:002012-02-23T13:25:51.813-05:00being about the Father's businessThis convicted me, challenged me, and blessed me oh-so-much. And that's all I'm going to say about it.<br />
<br />
<i>"Stick with your work. Do not flinch because the lion roars; do not stop to stone the devil’s dogs; do not fool away your time chasing the devil’s rabbits. Do your work. Let liars lie, let sectarians quarrel, let critics malign, let enemies accuse, let the devil do his worst; but see to it nothing hinders you from fulfilling with joy the work God has given you.<br />
<b><br />
He has not commanded you to be admired or esteemed. He has never bidden you to defend your character. He has not set you at work to contradict falsehood about yourself which Satan’s or God’s servants may start to peddle, or to track down every rumor that threatens your reputation. If you do these things, you will do nothing else; you will be at work for yourself and not for the Lord.</b><br />
<br />
Keep at your work. Let your aim be as steady as a star. You may be assaulted, wronged, insulted slandered, wounded and rejected, misunderstood or assigned impure motives; you may be abused by foes , forsaken by friends, and despised and rejected of men. But see to it with steadfast determination, with unfaltering zeal, that you pursue the great purpose for your life and object of your being until at last you can say 'I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do.'" </i> <br />
<i>- author unknown</i>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-81660624508846600322012-02-22T22:47:00.058-05:002012-03-06T02:09:22.778-05:00perspective<b>i could think like this:</b><br />
<br />
tomorrow will be the first of eight consecutive days that i have to work. <i>kill. me. now.</i><br />
<br />
i still have two research papers to write. they were due monday. whoops.<br />
<br />
my skin is breaking out.<br />
<br />
my butt is getting bigger methinks.<br />
<br />
my cat hates me.<br />
<br />
i wish i would have majored in something fun like graphic design.<br />
<br />
my room sucks and it's stacked high with wedding crap.<br />
<br />
<b>...or i could think like this:</b><br />
<br />
i'm going to have ample opportunity to show Christ to my co-workers this week.<br />
<br />
i'll drop to part-time and focus more on school.<br />
<br />
my skin could be worse.<br />
<br />
B will like my big butt. when we get married, i mean. <br />
<br />
i still love my cat.<br />
<br />
egalitarianism and complementarianism are fun to study. <br />
<br />
i have a cool new rug under all that crap...<br />
that i'm going to use.....<br />
at my wedding....<br />
<i><b>because i'm getting married...</b></i><br />
<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>perspective. </i><br />
who knew.<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-14053126723526720412012-02-22T19:12:00.009-05:002012-02-23T13:20:02.547-05:00ten ways<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNIOCwiehz0fRosrV243_l1rdgeF9bQULRfZ-GYUiK9WSa4OZ0NMxe6qnOrVgL_81kOTDLlIURShBEZi5hzPJdqNb2ItDebLCRtxOne7MZnj4H-aWj_KVnLIu2ll1ve5JkAixZT9v340Q/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifNIOCwiehz0fRosrV243_l1rdgeF9bQULRfZ-GYUiK9WSa4OZ0NMxe6qnOrVgL_81kOTDLlIURShBEZi5hzPJdqNb2ItDebLCRtxOne7MZnj4H-aWj_KVnLIu2ll1ve5JkAixZT9v340Q/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-3261135317941770282012-02-17T00:26:00.019-05:002012-02-23T13:40:07.136-05:00diy: place cards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiNxWq3cyJaaIo0dkGdPmPidYH-c_nYXbVJAuPRoA5ouGVn17NyeAwdUtqzV-UoolsMLFRZWnaTDO4cmTmwTDC_fqJ_eKsvFyU7JzzU5kXQ6eSi0TAgzVwsqTm0s13mVdCUSDErLFaqiK/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiNxWq3cyJaaIo0dkGdPmPidYH-c_nYXbVJAuPRoA5ouGVn17NyeAwdUtqzV-UoolsMLFRZWnaTDO4cmTmwTDC_fqJ_eKsvFyU7JzzU5kXQ6eSi0TAgzVwsqTm0s13mVdCUSDErLFaqiK/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>i've been working on these pretty babies all evening. i think B would be proud that i actually came up with something original for our wedding-- rather than just recreating some else's genius that i saw on pinterest. <br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-59490255536246730902012-02-16T13:42:00.048-05:002012-02-22T23:35:14.666-05:00normal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCSYXya0ZIH8lzZWDh1jb5a4GKGiRQqimPPEhep0JDwBiKotNqRo08o2Kn0sEdhMupgXWdR2K5qAAEoI2xbRdb5Fl3d91C6a4FFpUmdPovVGDK13UQGH_taK5y8cCNzciDXULNPmCHrk0/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCSYXya0ZIH8lzZWDh1jb5a4GKGiRQqimPPEhep0JDwBiKotNqRo08o2Kn0sEdhMupgXWdR2K5qAAEoI2xbRdb5Fl3d91C6a4FFpUmdPovVGDK13UQGH_taK5y8cCNzciDXULNPmCHrk0/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>two days before the biggest meltdown of my life, i sat down at the dining room table and jollied in how easily the wedding was coming together. it was almost <i>too </i>easy<i>. </i>i had the <a href="http://austingros.com/" target="_blank">photographer</a> of my dreams booked, my mom's renovated wedding dress to wear, a pair of discontinued <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/218846863112392324/" target="_blank">seychelles</a> shoes that i scored on ebay, a caterer (who doubles as my best friend from high school), musicians (who double as B's friends), an officiant (who doubles as B's dad), and a cabin in the woods (which makes our whole wedding double as a week long family vacation).<br />
<i><br />
</i>and then it was time to tackle the guest list. HANDS DOWN the most daunting thing about planning a wedding y'all. just the <i>thought</i> of having a ton of people there on my wedding day sends me into a hyperventilating frenzy; and on the other hand <i>not</i> inviting them and disappointing them sends me into a hyperventilating frenzy. so either way, there's a hyperventilating frenzy in store. for me at least. i begged brandon all night that night. i begged him to not make me have a wedding.<br />
<br />
in a lot of people's eyes "it's not normal" to have such a small wedding, but to me, small is the <i>only </i>normal thing. him, me, our immediate families, and a few of our closest friends hanging out together at home<i> is</i> normal. i want things to be normal as i walk into the new normal. i don't want to be frazzled about a strict schedule of formal & traditional whatevers, and i <i>really </i>don't want a dance floor. i want to sit down at the dinner table with my family and laugh and have conversations together. i want our friends to grab guitars and play music out on the balcony all night. i just want a chance to be together and actually really <i>be </i>together.<br />
<br />
contrary to popular belief, a wedding day is not<i> </i>all there is. it just happens to be the <i>first</i> day of even bigger and better days. every day i spend with B as my husband will continue to be the best day of my life, even if it's not all fancy-schmancy and perfect.<br />
<br />
because life's not that way. <br />
life is rather normal.<br />
<br />
and i'm excited about it.<br />
<br />
-cChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-78724045940390694752012-01-16T15:04:00.038-05:002012-02-17T02:53:34.044-05:00my best friend's wifei'm getting married.<br />
<br />
wait, really? when did that happen? wasn't it just yesterday that i turned a corner in B&N and ran into him by accident? we constantly (and i mean, <i>constantly</i>) kept bumping into each other after that; a couple more times at the bookstore, and multiple times at jazzman's. we had a movie night at my apartment one night with friends, and i remember going to bed that night thanking God that B and I could be friends again; just like the old times; just like we did before he had a girlfriend. <br />
<br />
i missed him.<br />
<br />
one night he invited me over for dinner. i expected it to be a social gathering, but when i walked in, there was homemade pasta on the stove and a table set for two. when his roommate came home, we all stood in the kitchen and talked for the longest time. i even told them about a guy i had gone out on a date with; a guy that i was interested in. B and i were best friends... i could tell him those types of things, right? simultaneously, they shot looks at one another. B hesitated in a response, looking nervous and so let down. "what the heck is going on?" i thought. "why are they being so weird about this?"<br />
<br />
i drove home that night putting pieces of the night together. it wasn't normal. <i>he </i>wasn't being normal. i started practicing how i'd let him down, just in case it <i>had </i>been a date; just in case he <i>was </i>interested. we'd been here before; on the brink of being friends and being something more-- and honestly, i just didn't want to go there again.<br />
<br />
about a month later, after another dinner at his house, he randomly grabbed my hand out of nowhere and wouldn't let go. i tried desperately to remember my "let's-stay-friends" speech, but i just couldn't. "this is your best friend," I thought.. "and he's holding your hand right now. weird-- but it's <i>right.</i>" <br />
<br />
And now, almost a year later-- that hand is promised to him.<br />
<br />
this summer, my whole life will change.<br />
<i>i'll be my best friend's wife. </i><br />
<br />
when did that happen?<br />
<br />
-c#2bChelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-9493348743844633792011-10-31T16:58:00.003-04:002012-02-15T16:57:35.294-05:00it's a wonderful life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>hey bloggums,<br />
I'm home for a few days, chillin' out with the madre, helping her put her house back together after it's spectacular remodel, facebook stalking, pinning, and watching Say Yes to the Dress. The world is cold and quiet-- in shades of orange, red, brown, yellow and white. I laid in bed forever last night just looking out my window at the stars. They're so beautiful here. I'd almost forgotten.<br />
<br />
I've been tirelessly searching for a job back in Lynchburg. Graduation will be here soon, and soon after that: the dreaded loan payments. Uhhhhh...yeah. I've applied to over 25 jobs...and so far: nothing. Tears. Nail-biting. Deep breaths. And Prayer. <br />
Lots and <i>lots</i> of prayer.<br />
<br />
But despite all the unsureness about what's to come, I have such a wonderful life. <br />
<i>And I serve a huge God. </i><br />
<br />
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</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-90527760548897680692011-09-28T00:00:00.021-04:002012-02-15T17:13:31.809-05:00for such things we may never know<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I was younger I used to pray that God would give me a gift exchange. You know, something like what Ariel did with Ursula in the Little Mermaid. But instead of trading my voice in for legs, I'd trade my voice in for some mad basketball skills. Because that was the 'cool' thing to do. Apparently.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181690"><br />
</a> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181690"><br />
</a> The basketball thing eventually phased out when I realized that I didn't even like basketball, but as I got older it turned into other things. Today, it's become a multitude of things. For one, I'd <i>probably</i> rather be a writer than a singer-- but only because writing doesn't come as easily to me. I have to put a lot of effort into it. And to be honest, there's a part of me that really wants affirmation for that effort and for what's being born from it. I <b>want</b> people to leave comments and follow my blog-- yet a good majority of the time, my posts get no acknowledgement whatsoever. That sounds way whiny (because it is)-- but without any affirmation, I feel like I've failed....that what I've written sucks. And this goes for anything I do or take on. I need affirmation, dad gummit. It must be my love language or something. Cliche. But probably. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181690"><br />
</a> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181690"><br />
</a> I might always be average at writing, at cooking, and at decorating my house. I'll even be average at singing (especially here in Lynchburg where the talent pool is <b>insanely</b> deep). But once I feel like quitting any one of those things simply because I can't be the 'best' at it, I've lost a battle with my pride.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181684"><br />
</a> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_875181684"><br />
</a> I think the idea I haven't quite grasped yet, is the idea that service does not have to equate perfection. Service is not tallied by the amount of comments received on a blog post, a cooked meal, or a 'cute' house. Service is giving back to God what He has given to us, period. Therefore, only <b>I </b>can bring to the world what God intended me to bring, and only <b>you</b> can bring to the world what God intended you to bring-- the only thing is that we must bring <b>something</b>. Exceptional or not in its execution, it is the exact thing God desires to use for His plan and purpose-- for such things, we may never know. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
-c</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-49155982104532892142011-09-26T23:36:00.006-04:002012-02-15T17:14:08.242-05:00this weekend and lastA trip to Atlanta and a coming down with the flu/cold was my weekend. The trip to Atlanta = great. Getting the flu = not so great. This evening, YouthQuest led worship for the department of Ministry Team's 'All-Team Meeting.' When I wasn't singing, I was coughing. Like, a lot. If you heard the ruffling of a paper bag during the message, that was me-- reaching in for another Halls. I apologize for my sick, disturbing ways.<br />
<br />
Despite my ailments and a bunch of technical difficulties, the evening went pretty great. The YQ band is getting tighter and tighter every practice. We've come such a long way since the beginning of the semester and I'm so thankful that God has blessed us with such a faithful team. This weekend will be our first weekend traveling! <br />
I. am. <b>so</b>. excited.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Do y'all have any fun plans this weekend?<br />
-c</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-33675744241944690012011-09-22T01:50:00.048-04:002012-02-26T02:20:52.518-05:00storytime<div style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">one of my favorite things to do is tell people about how B and I met. of course, only when they ask-- and some of you have asked, so here it is :)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Our story began in the midst of 23,000 people at Passion Conference Atlanta on January 4th, 2010. <br />
<br />
Before the evening main session, I decided to sit down in line and work on a bible study. I was exhausted and excited and irritated all at once. Irritated, because even though I really love music, I don't really care for having a certain song stuck in my head all day long-- especially a song that I only knew six whole lines of. When I sat down in line to do my study, I had for one restful moment, forgotten about this particular song. And then<span style="font-style: italic;"> (</span><i>ohhhh, and then</i>) the guy sitting next to me in line starts humming the same song.<br />
<br />
His hair was spikey, and his jeans were skinny. He sat there on his knees, drumming on his lap, and when I should have found the predicament annoying, i found it incredibly copacetic.<br />
<br />
"I've had that song stuck in my head all day!"<br />
<br />
"Haha. Yeeeah, it's a good one!"<br />
<br />
He laughed what I now know to be his "nervous laugh" and smiled. He was only 'kinda' cute to me at the time.<br />
<br />
We introduced ourselves. Found out that we were both attending Liberty University and that we were both majoring in worship leadership. Then, all of the little pieces started to come together. Earlier that morning, my friend Annie told me about a guy she met at the main session named Brandon Sharp who was a worship leader at Liberty. Even though she told him about me, I was obscenely jealous because <i>she</i> wasn't about to transfer into Liberty, <i>I</i> was. And I didn't know a soul there.<br />
<br />
"Wait, are you Brandon..." (I tried to remember his last name) "...<i>Sharp</i>?"<br />
<br />
He laughed another nervous laugh and followed it with a quick, deep breath in, as if he were about to deliver bad news.<br />
<br />
"Mhmm........"<br />
<br />
For a moment he seemed disappointed, and at the time I didn't understand why. His whole demeanor shifted in an instant.<br />
<br />
"So you're the same Brandon Sharp that met my friend Annie this morning?"<br />
<br />
His eyes opened up wide, his back straightened up, and he leaned into me curiously. "You're THAT Chelsea?"<br />
<br />
A week later when I started classes at Liberty, I realized why he was disappointed when I seemed to know who he was. People had been coming up to him all four days of Passion, wanting to meet the new kid on Campus Praise Band. I knew he was a worship leader there, but I had no idea what the Campus Praise Band was, nor that they led worship for the <i>entire</i> student body 5x a week.<br />
<br />
It was weird seeing my friend up there on those big screens at first (heck, it's still a little weird). It took some time getting use to the stares as we walked about campus together. To me, he was just Brandon. He jumps off walls and drinks way too much caffeine. He has an alter ego that comes out past midnight, and his jokes are indescribably corny. He was my best friend.<br />
<br />
and now, a year later, he's my boyfriend.<br />
and i'm glad.</span></div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
-c</span></div><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"> </span>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-72258809547598500582011-09-12T13:58:00.036-04:002012-02-17T03:09:49.794-05:00seis meses<div class="" style="clear: both; color: #666666; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>'ve never been one to celebrate monthiversary's, but somehow B and I ended up celebrating them. On our first month he showed up at my door with a single, pink rose. The next month, two. The next, three. And the tradition just stuck. Finally this week, I have a half dozen roses on display-- as well as a venti-sized Starbucks cold cup and a 17-minute piano instrumental track he recorded just for me. He's seriously the most thoughtful, most talented person I know.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnpAvRJwPCqjJ-Dk7Pd-YxR2fGkMj5Al6HJ2PqDWAJ9W8AWb2Yy-BotSU4WPlBuJalBSccvVEUJ_rF9pRHsGqR8uyY8MlGigbjvGA0Jim02sygF1P2CQP3Q5tUBQBiVjeMc-b2reTe1s_/s1600/eb3f8ba2175e4125b48926326146cbb5_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvnpAvRJwPCqjJ-Dk7Pd-YxR2fGkMj5Al6HJ2PqDWAJ9W8AWb2Yy-BotSU4WPlBuJalBSccvVEUJ_rF9pRHsGqR8uyY8MlGigbjvGA0Jim02sygF1P2CQP3Q5tUBQBiVjeMc-b2reTe1s_/s320/eb3f8ba2175e4125b48926326146cbb5_7.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I ended up making him some string art to hang up in his office at Liberty-- inspired by an artist I found on Etsy. I bought a wood mount at Michaels, stained it a dark walnut color, then nailed an outline of the state of Georgia onto it, filling it in by wrapping jewelry wire from one nail across to the other, and then somehow configured a heart out of nails and wire to mark Atlanta-- the place we met. I brought him into the dining room where I had it hanging on the wall, covered his eyes, and when I had him facing it, I took my hands away and the first thing he said was, "a frog??"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<br />
I don't know. Maybe it does look like a frog-- but at least he loved it once I explained what it was. I could hear him out in the living room examining it, exclaiming a "huh!" and a "you're so creative!" every now and again. He's cute. <br />
<br />
After exchanging gifts, we settled in and spent the rest of the day watching LOST while drinking homemade cinnamon dolce chai's (another gift to him). We only took a break from the t.v. long enough to make pancakes, eggs, and bacon for dinner, and then back to being lazy we went. <br />
<br />
It's great being in a relationship with the right person. <br />
<i>So</i> great.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">-c</div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-75245073760216116802011-08-26T15:59:00.009-04:002012-02-17T03:12:04.068-05:00prioritiesGood day, blog.<br />
<br />
I just finished making lunch-- chicken fingers, via <a href="http://luandyou.blogspot.com/2011/08/homemade-chicken-fingers.html">Lauren Valle</a>. IN-credible. As a side: dad's green beans. It's a brilliant combination.<br />
<br />
Jack is laying on top of the couch looking out the window; I'm still in the LU yoga pants and tee I slept in last night. No make-up, eyes are puffy, hair is barbaric, and my body-- a little more toned thanks to Jillian Michaels. I'm waiting for the right moment to make a Pumpkin Spice latte as I sit in this orange chair-- blogging, thinking, and praying. <br />
<br />
I'm hurt today, y'all. And even still, the Lord leads me to still waters. <br />
<br />
Sometime last year, when B and I were just friends, he wrote me a letter that said, "It's through other people's failures that you are shown the Lord's faithfulness, and for that, I am grateful." It was one of those letters that you hold onto. Like, forever. Timeless, because of the truth that was written into it. Today, that truth follows me around the house. Not only reminding me of our sinful nature, but of how holy, loving, and patient He is with us.<br />
<br />
I think we all realize the reality of our nature in that we're always going to want to put ourselves first. We'll care more about ourselves than of our loved ones from time to time-- and they're going to do the same to us. It shouldn't be this way, but by His grace we can repent of it and fulfill the two greatest commandments: loving the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our mind, and with all our strength, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. <br />
<br />
I do plenty of putting myself first. Most of it probably without even realizing it. But y'all, there's no other time I'm more aware of my selfishness and how I've hurt others than when I've been the hurt-ee.<br />
<br />
I can understand how God may feel when I say that I love Him, yet I don't make Him a priority in my life. How He may feel when I deliberately choose other things over Him. And even still, He's there for me, being patient with me, loving and forgiving me-- and after all of this, I can see not only how I've neglected Him, but how desperately I need to be more like Him. Sometimes, being hurt is the most healing.<br />
<br />
He must become greater-- and I, less. My family, friends, roommates, and boyfriend must become greater-- and I, less. I am <i>incapable</i> of loving them the way God has called me to if I'm not loving Him first.<br />
<br />
Do any of y'all know what this is like? How in being hurt, you then see how you yourself have hurt God and others? How do you choose to make Christ a priority in your day-to-day life? And can you see a difference in the way you love others when you do?<br />
<br />
I'd love to hear your thoughts,<br />
<br />
-c<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-78105914095786800782011-08-25T15:44:00.027-04:002012-02-17T03:21:09.021-05:00"shtuff"i'm home. finally.<br />
and it is, for a lack of better words-- <i>lovely</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm currently in my new living room, sitting as close to the window as possible, trying to pick up YMCA's internet from across the street. Verizon's recent strike has left us internet-less. And so, here I sit by the window. "Borrowing." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Other than YouthQuest shenanigans and a few friends getting engaged, not much else is going on. One of these days I'll actually be able to sit down and write about more personal/spiritual "shtuff," but I don't think I've gotten to the point of being able to share them just yet. I never really know how much is too much share, so naturally I'll just revert to boring, everyday happenings. I know that there is a time to speak and a time to refrain, but my nature is <i>totally</i> open book and the refraining part can be tough from time to time. I write because I love it; I <i>love</i> crafting life into words and words into life. To me, they're one in the same. Whether or not I'm any good at it, I've no idea, but it helps me see and understand things I wouldn't have otherwise seen or understood. And someday, I imagine, my children will look back on these posts and get to know who their mom was at their age; the good, the bad, the significant and insignificant. I've never desired that my writing be perfect in nature or in prose, because that's not reality; and because honestly, there's nowhere to go from there. I know that there will be times when I'll say more than I ought and you'll think I'm complete a heathen and want to stage an intervention and/or give me grammar lessons. But the beauty in weakness is that <i>He</i> is always strong, always good, always right, always loving, and always forgiving. <i>He</i> is what we dwell upon. I'm just a girl. Learning to be obedient to Him as I go.<br />
<br />
Strangely, this is one of the only places in the world I feel comfortable enough to be myself in. And I am forever thankful that you let me do just that. <br />
<br />
as always,<br />
-c<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-17163881317936934292011-08-06T14:52:00.008-04:002012-02-17T03:17:03.156-05:00pity partyOh, my goodness, y'all. I'm going mad.<br />
<br />
Just being here and knowing that I could be home right now drives me nuts. Why is this so dad gum hard? <br />
<br />
<i>I don't understand.</i><br />
<br />
I wish I had something else to write about, but I've been a sad case lately. A sad, sad, pathetic, lonely case. And I've vowed that I wouldn't spew sad, sad, pathetic, lonely things around on here, so I guess I'll just go and take my pity party elsewhere. Like to a waffle cone full of Coconut Chocolate-Chip Almond ice-cream. <br />
<br />
-c<br />
<br />
<i> </i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-86191067853396731282011-08-02T12:18:00.013-04:002012-02-17T03:18:19.022-05:00homeSo today is the day I no longer have an apartment of my own. Dad, Chase, and Byrd moved all my things out this morning.<br />
<br />
It's sad, really. But I get to move into a new place with two wonderful women of God, where the rent is exponentially cheaper-- and that: I am excited about. <br />
<br />
The days are dwindling down here in Spec. Only 8 more days to go before I'm back home with my wonderfully entertaining family, in our small, brick, ranch house, sleeping in until noon and sipping coffee from the Keurig all day long. It'll only be for a few days, but I will cherish them to pieces. As for being here in Spec, well -- there are some things I'll miss. But home overshadows them all. And I don't really believe that wanting to be home so badly is a bad thing. At least, it ceased being a bad thing the moment it ceased being a 'god-thing.' And I'll admit: it was a god-thing for me yesterday. There was nothing anyone could say to convince me to hash it out these last eight days. Well, except for B. And even still, he didn't try to convince me -- he just pointed me to the truth so that I could see it for myself. And the truth is that my home isn't in Speculator, and it's not in the Valley, and it's not in Lynchburg. <b>My home is the Kingdom</b>. And I should take hold of it as much as I can while I can. Invite it here. Manifest it here. Until I can't any longer. Until I'm face to face with the King and the Kingdom myself.<br />
<br />
Until I'm home.<br />
<br />
-c<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dear friends, I urge you being aliens and strangers in this world, to abstain from<br />
the desires of the flesh, which war against your soul.</i> </div><div style="text-align: center;">-1 Peter 2:11<i><br />
</i></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-8586379032187600322011-07-31T12:15:00.003-04:002011-07-31T12:18:27.501-04:00oh, shenandoah i long to see you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNno7FvYEOspAAPUKom895Qx_vGN8AH8E8hz2KqkavrC9nqoVDbJ-bzwYOrODy7OSEPIgliIS2QkwYiG_vzIvjtZDDBbr9DFdffocG1_Pc7Rhui7dfCxdMndXZS9nEnwt_pvyQGhtTsDv/s1600/IMG_5328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNno7FvYEOspAAPUKom895Qx_vGN8AH8E8hz2KqkavrC9nqoVDbJ-bzwYOrODy7OSEPIgliIS2QkwYiG_vzIvjtZDDBbr9DFdffocG1_Pc7Rhui7dfCxdMndXZS9nEnwt_pvyQGhtTsDv/s400/IMG_5328.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-46096662223090173842011-07-30T15:20:00.012-04:002012-02-17T03:23:36.765-05:00my first photo booth pic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpfo7kloStMffku0Q-7JoFtgZ1K97v1yALxQamHr42gY11WNJ2OQFaD94UU37R4Ue4z3pwd-XRLTyVNIwU36qlNWKrVe76nuFUssVkjQavtwEdr0DxwJMpdZcwhuufjpzjvQ_N4VUDYI5/s1600/Photo+on+2011-07-30+at+15.32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpfo7kloStMffku0Q-7JoFtgZ1K97v1yALxQamHr42gY11WNJ2OQFaD94UU37R4Ue4z3pwd-XRLTyVNIwU36qlNWKrVe76nuFUssVkjQavtwEdr0DxwJMpdZcwhuufjpzjvQ_N4VUDYI5/s400/Photo+on+2011-07-30+at+15.32.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><br />
<br />
word.Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608440583676100868.post-15678192879014869612011-07-29T15:25:00.041-04:002012-02-17T03:27:49.833-05:00the switch<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Soooo....</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">.....you wanna switch?"</span></div><br />
B leans onto the counter, sporting an adorable smirk and batting his thick, dark, glossy lashes at me. It was another normal night at the Tee-Pee; I was on register and B was on scoop. And he wanted to switch.<br />
<br />
Now, my first instinct was "of course I'll switch with you" -- because naturally, I like him more than I like being on the register. But then I remembered that he didn't switch with me a couple weeks ago when I asked, so out of spite--I told him no.<br />
<br />
He took it graciously, walked away, and I just stood there. Repaying him with evil. And feeling a little proud that I had hurt him. But then I realized I was standing there alone-- knowing that that was the most selfish thing I could ever think or do. Probably even more selfish than if I had just told him no on account of me really not wanting to switch. But that I told him 'no' simply out of spite?-- that like, quadruples the selfishness. <br />
<br />
It wasn't long before I caved and called B over to the register. <br />
"Babe! Take the register. Go!"<br />
<br />
He smiled this coy little smile of gratitude and all of that selfishness I had harbored up, in an instant, turned into joy.<br />
<br />
And I'm sure.<br />
<br />
I'm sure that holding on to the things of this world only keeps us from the best of things. The heavenly things. The things that last well beyond this life. That every sacrifice we make is wrapped up into the only sacrifice big enough to save us.<br />
<br />
<i>No</i> sacrifice can compare with Christ's, but every one-- no matter how big, no matter how small, is significant.<br />
<br />
signed,<br />
i'm-a-selfish-little-brat-but-jesus-saved-me<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">"do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">philippians 2:3-4</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div></div>Chelsea Clinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06160549795322047571noreply@blogger.com0