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Saturday, May 17, 2014
Coming...
I know it's too early for Christmas, but this is what our wall will look like...come December 2014!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
On 7-7-11 in Maui, Hawaii...
Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Sara
***I am in the process of transferring some of my old blogs from my facebook/myspace into my new blogger site, per Bethany's orders. Here are some of old blogs...***
"Sara"
(written June, 2008)
Some might call me crazy, but I had good reason to be out in the middle of downtown Phoenix one dark and cold night at 2:00 am in February of 2007. My boyfriend at the time had just picked up a night shift job, and I, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, decided to stay up till the middle of the night to bring him a surprise meal where he worked downtown. I had packed a dinner for him, and decided that I should drive to a gas station real quick so I could pick out some of his favorite pieces of candy.
15th Avenue and Thomas is quite a sight at 2:00 in the morning. Every street I turned down was dotted with shadowy figures lurking against broken down, graffiti-marked walls. Homeless men pushing their shopping carts slowly down the sidewalk, ready to find a place to set up their bed for the night. I'm a rather independent girl and I don't ever mind being alone, but even I was rather scared to be out at this time of night by myself.
I found a gas station that had several people standing in front of it, so I figured it would be open. I parked and walked up to the gas station, and was frustrated to learn that the inside store was actually closed. As I walked back to my car, my mind was focused on figuring out which gas station store was still open that I could drive to next, and I didn't notice the woman walking toward me.
"Excuse me, do you have any money?" She asked.
I never carry cash on me, so I responded, "No, I'm sorry. I don't have any cash."
"Well, do you think you can help me somehow? The motel I live in costs $30 a day and I only make $50 a week at my job. I need to pay for my room."
It was hard to see her in the dark. She looked to be in her late 30's, maybe early 40's. She was African-American, thinner and frailer than a mouse. As she spoke, I noticed two other black males standing about 15 feet behind her, whose eyes had been staring me up and down since I had first walked up to the store. Their hushed voices got louder, and they took several steps in our direction, no doubt wanting to hear how a blonde white girl was going to respond to this plea. I tried to hide how nervous these two men were making me.
At this point, everything inside of me wanted to say "I'm sorry about your situation, but there's nothing I can do," and jump into my car and leave. But something else seemed to take over my body and my voice at that moment, and instead I said, "Well, can I pay for your room for the night?"
"Oh! I would really appreciate that. But motel is a little ways down the street from here…."
"Well then we'll drive there."
In a matter of seconds, she was in my car and I started to pull out of the parking lot. At this point the two males had come far too close for comfort, and I thought for sure they were going to jump in front of my car or try to hold us up. But they just stared as we drove out of the parking lot. Although I think these two men were probably her friends, I could tell she was just as relieved to be out of that parking lot as I was.
I got a better look at her once we were safely on the road. Her hair was pulled back in a frizzy bun, with a red handkerchief tied around her head. Her face was smooth and rather pretty, but seemed to be weighed down by the endless wares and worries that I'm sure she had faced in her life. I asked her to tell me a little about herself.
"Well, I just got out of prison for committing a felony."
I gasped, and trying to quickly recover before she noticed, I gulped and asked, "What kind of felony?"
"Armed robbery."
I didn't ask anymore questions about that. I wanted to slam on the brakes and push her out of my car. But it was too late now…we were nearly to her motel. And whatever had sort of taken control over my body just moments before seemed to have taken full control at this point. I was so scared that it didn't feel like I was driving my car anymore. But I looked down at hands and they were still driving, although they were clenched so hard to the steering wheel that my knuckles were white. I could feel my heart beating so loud inside my chest I wondered if she could hear it. I didn't want her to know how scared I was. I wondered what she would do. Would she try and hold me up and take my car and my money? Where were we really driving to? Was this a trap? I tried to silence my mind of the thoughts and trails it was taking me down. Trails ending in rape and robbery and maybe death. I said a prayer. That worked. I came to a peace and realized that what was going to happen was simply going to happen. All I could try to do was love her.
We pulled up to the run-down motel and walked up to the office. It was tiny and dark, and it didn't look like anyone was inside. But she knocked and a few seconds later a man came to the door. He opened the door with an unwelcoming frown on his face. He didn't even look at her; his eyes were wide and fixed on me.
"She's gonna pay for ma room tonight."
"Is…is a debit card okay to pay with?" I stammered as I reached for my purse.
"Are you crazy? You think our credit card machine is up and running at this time of night? You're crazy. I can only take cash. Sorry."
She looked at me, despair in her eyes. I didn't know what to say, except for, "Well, I'm sorry about that. Guess it's not gonna work." But before I could she said, "Well, you could always go get some money."
I nodded.
So we walked back to the car. I once again let this convicted felon inside my car and started the car again. I told her we'd go to another convenience store that I knew would be open, where I could get some cash from the clerk.
We drove just a short way to a different gas station, one that was well-lit and more welcoming. Once inside the store, I told her I was going to pick something out to buy and then I'd get cash out at the register.
"Can…..can you buy me some chips?" She asked.
"That's fine."
"You think I can I get a drink too? Like a coke?"
I nodded. She picked out a bag of chips and a coke. I could tell she was very excited about the bottle of soda. Perhaps it had been months since she'd had one. Not wanting her to feel weird about being the only one bringing something to the register, I grabbed something off the shelf. I don't even know what it was I grabbed. Had I really been thinking smart, I would have grabbed the candy I had wanted to bring to my boyfriend, but the night's previous mission of bringing him dinner and candy was the furthest thing from my mind at this moment.
This clerk was friendly and chatty and his warm demeanor helped ease my nerves. He let me take out an extra $60.00 I had decided I would pay for two nights at her motel.
Once we got back into the car, my nerves had calmed enough that I was comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with the woman. Her name was Sara. I asked her if she had any family. She explained that she had a daughter that she was worried about because she hadn't seen her in a few weeks. A daughter who was living with a boyfriend who beat her up frequently. Then Sara started talking about her own boyfriend. She explained that sometimes she lived with him, but sometimes she didn't want to, which is why she would go to this motel.
"Does your boyfriend ever beat you?" I asked.
She looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah. Sometimes."
"Do…do you understand that it is very wrong for him to be doing that? That he's really not loving you? It's not right that your daughter's boyfriend beats her and it's not right that your boyfriend beats you either."
"Yeah, but I aint got no money if I don't stay with him. What am I supposed to do?"
As we pulled back into the parking lot of the motel, I did the most important thing of the whole night. More important than even paying for her room…I shared the beautiful message of the gospel with her.
I began by asking her if she believed in God. She said yes. Then I told her that God loved her and that his Son had died for her because He loved her more than anything, even with everything that she had done in her life.
Tears began to fall down her cheeks. "I know, I know…" she starting sobbing softly. My message was brief and rather informal, and was one that she had obviously heard before, but the sheer beauty of it had broken her, brought her to tears. That's the power that only the gospel message has.
I told her that again that God loved her and that it wasn't right that her boyfriend beat her. "Real love doesn't do that to other people. But God loves you and He wants so much more for you. Just like you want so much more for your daughter."
"Yes, yes, yes. I know," Sara said through her sobs.
She brushed away the tears and we got out of the car and walked back up to the tiny office. We knocked on the door and man inside opened it, looking completely bewildered that I had actually returned with cash in hand. I gave him cash for two nights and he gave her a key and shut the door.
I turned and hugged Sara. She thanked me for everything. "God bless you. God bless you. God bless you. God BLESS you." She muttered over and over.
"Sara, you are beautiful because you are a child of God. Please don't forget that He loves you so much and wants the best for your life."
"I know. Thank you my friend..."
I watched as Sara disappeared into the motel complex, and then I walked back to my car and drove away.
I think about Sara often. I'm not sure how much good my little speech did…for all I know she might have forgotten all of it later that same night. But the Gospel's message is the most powerful message in the world, even when it's choppy and unrehearsed. If any good came out of it, it is all to the glory of God.
Sara, I hope I see you one day in Heaven.
"Sara"
(written June, 2008)
Some might call me crazy, but I had good reason to be out in the middle of downtown Phoenix one dark and cold night at 2:00 am in February of 2007. My boyfriend at the time had just picked up a night shift job, and I, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, decided to stay up till the middle of the night to bring him a surprise meal where he worked downtown. I had packed a dinner for him, and decided that I should drive to a gas station real quick so I could pick out some of his favorite pieces of candy.
15th Avenue and Thomas is quite a sight at 2:00 in the morning. Every street I turned down was dotted with shadowy figures lurking against broken down, graffiti-marked walls. Homeless men pushing their shopping carts slowly down the sidewalk, ready to find a place to set up their bed for the night. I'm a rather independent girl and I don't ever mind being alone, but even I was rather scared to be out at this time of night by myself.
I found a gas station that had several people standing in front of it, so I figured it would be open. I parked and walked up to the gas station, and was frustrated to learn that the inside store was actually closed. As I walked back to my car, my mind was focused on figuring out which gas station store was still open that I could drive to next, and I didn't notice the woman walking toward me.
"Excuse me, do you have any money?" She asked.
I never carry cash on me, so I responded, "No, I'm sorry. I don't have any cash."
"Well, do you think you can help me somehow? The motel I live in costs $30 a day and I only make $50 a week at my job. I need to pay for my room."
It was hard to see her in the dark. She looked to be in her late 30's, maybe early 40's. She was African-American, thinner and frailer than a mouse. As she spoke, I noticed two other black males standing about 15 feet behind her, whose eyes had been staring me up and down since I had first walked up to the store. Their hushed voices got louder, and they took several steps in our direction, no doubt wanting to hear how a blonde white girl was going to respond to this plea. I tried to hide how nervous these two men were making me.
At this point, everything inside of me wanted to say "I'm sorry about your situation, but there's nothing I can do," and jump into my car and leave. But something else seemed to take over my body and my voice at that moment, and instead I said, "Well, can I pay for your room for the night?"
"Oh! I would really appreciate that. But motel is a little ways down the street from here…."
"Well then we'll drive there."
In a matter of seconds, she was in my car and I started to pull out of the parking lot. At this point the two males had come far too close for comfort, and I thought for sure they were going to jump in front of my car or try to hold us up. But they just stared as we drove out of the parking lot. Although I think these two men were probably her friends, I could tell she was just as relieved to be out of that parking lot as I was.
I got a better look at her once we were safely on the road. Her hair was pulled back in a frizzy bun, with a red handkerchief tied around her head. Her face was smooth and rather pretty, but seemed to be weighed down by the endless wares and worries that I'm sure she had faced in her life. I asked her to tell me a little about herself.
"Well, I just got out of prison for committing a felony."
I gasped, and trying to quickly recover before she noticed, I gulped and asked, "What kind of felony?"
"Armed robbery."
I didn't ask anymore questions about that. I wanted to slam on the brakes and push her out of my car. But it was too late now…we were nearly to her motel. And whatever had sort of taken control over my body just moments before seemed to have taken full control at this point. I was so scared that it didn't feel like I was driving my car anymore. But I looked down at hands and they were still driving, although they were clenched so hard to the steering wheel that my knuckles were white. I could feel my heart beating so loud inside my chest I wondered if she could hear it. I didn't want her to know how scared I was. I wondered what she would do. Would she try and hold me up and take my car and my money? Where were we really driving to? Was this a trap? I tried to silence my mind of the thoughts and trails it was taking me down. Trails ending in rape and robbery and maybe death. I said a prayer. That worked. I came to a peace and realized that what was going to happen was simply going to happen. All I could try to do was love her.
We pulled up to the run-down motel and walked up to the office. It was tiny and dark, and it didn't look like anyone was inside. But she knocked and a few seconds later a man came to the door. He opened the door with an unwelcoming frown on his face. He didn't even look at her; his eyes were wide and fixed on me.
"She's gonna pay for ma room tonight."
"Is…is a debit card okay to pay with?" I stammered as I reached for my purse.
"Are you crazy? You think our credit card machine is up and running at this time of night? You're crazy. I can only take cash. Sorry."
She looked at me, despair in her eyes. I didn't know what to say, except for, "Well, I'm sorry about that. Guess it's not gonna work." But before I could she said, "Well, you could always go get some money."
I nodded.
So we walked back to the car. I once again let this convicted felon inside my car and started the car again. I told her we'd go to another convenience store that I knew would be open, where I could get some cash from the clerk.
We drove just a short way to a different gas station, one that was well-lit and more welcoming. Once inside the store, I told her I was going to pick something out to buy and then I'd get cash out at the register.
"Can…..can you buy me some chips?" She asked.
"That's fine."
"You think I can I get a drink too? Like a coke?"
I nodded. She picked out a bag of chips and a coke. I could tell she was very excited about the bottle of soda. Perhaps it had been months since she'd had one. Not wanting her to feel weird about being the only one bringing something to the register, I grabbed something off the shelf. I don't even know what it was I grabbed. Had I really been thinking smart, I would have grabbed the candy I had wanted to bring to my boyfriend, but the night's previous mission of bringing him dinner and candy was the furthest thing from my mind at this moment.
This clerk was friendly and chatty and his warm demeanor helped ease my nerves. He let me take out an extra $60.00 I had decided I would pay for two nights at her motel.
Once we got back into the car, my nerves had calmed enough that I was comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with the woman. Her name was Sara. I asked her if she had any family. She explained that she had a daughter that she was worried about because she hadn't seen her in a few weeks. A daughter who was living with a boyfriend who beat her up frequently. Then Sara started talking about her own boyfriend. She explained that sometimes she lived with him, but sometimes she didn't want to, which is why she would go to this motel.
"Does your boyfriend ever beat you?" I asked.
She looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah. Sometimes."
"Do…do you understand that it is very wrong for him to be doing that? That he's really not loving you? It's not right that your daughter's boyfriend beats her and it's not right that your boyfriend beats you either."
"Yeah, but I aint got no money if I don't stay with him. What am I supposed to do?"
As we pulled back into the parking lot of the motel, I did the most important thing of the whole night. More important than even paying for her room…I shared the beautiful message of the gospel with her.
I began by asking her if she believed in God. She said yes. Then I told her that God loved her and that his Son had died for her because He loved her more than anything, even with everything that she had done in her life.
Tears began to fall down her cheeks. "I know, I know…" she starting sobbing softly. My message was brief and rather informal, and was one that she had obviously heard before, but the sheer beauty of it had broken her, brought her to tears. That's the power that only the gospel message has.
I told her that again that God loved her and that it wasn't right that her boyfriend beat her. "Real love doesn't do that to other people. But God loves you and He wants so much more for you. Just like you want so much more for your daughter."
"Yes, yes, yes. I know," Sara said through her sobs.
She brushed away the tears and we got out of the car and walked back up to the tiny office. We knocked on the door and man inside opened it, looking completely bewildered that I had actually returned with cash in hand. I gave him cash for two nights and he gave her a key and shut the door.
I turned and hugged Sara. She thanked me for everything. "God bless you. God bless you. God bless you. God BLESS you." She muttered over and over.
"Sara, you are beautiful because you are a child of God. Please don't forget that He loves you so much and wants the best for your life."
"I know. Thank you my friend..."
I watched as Sara disappeared into the motel complex, and then I walked back to my car and drove away.
I think about Sara often. I'm not sure how much good my little speech did…for all I know she might have forgotten all of it later that same night. But the Gospel's message is the most powerful message in the world, even when it's choppy and unrehearsed. If any good came out of it, it is all to the glory of God.
Sara, I hope I see you one day in Heaven.
Teacher Boot Camp
(written January, 2008)
Alternate title: Why Yes, You Can Get A Master's Degree in Just 10 Months
It's mornings like this morning, when I engage in conversations that begin with any of the following questions, that I realize how necessary this blog is:
"So Kayleen...tell me...what are you doing right now in life?"
"Kayleen, how are things going at CCV?"
"Kayleen! I thought you moved away? I haven't seen in you in months! How long are you in town for?"
"Kayleen. What? You're alive?"
I finally realized it's high time I post the infamous "Life Update" blog. So here's where I've been, where I am, and what I'll hopefully be doing in the near future...
In May of 2007, my job at Christ's Church of the Valley ended. I had always wanted to have the option of working in either a church setting or in the public school setting, and I figured it was the perfect time to work on the second part of that goal. With my bachelor's degree already in hand, all I needed to become a teacher was a teaching certificate. As I researched the colleges in my area, I stumbled upon the most amazing program ever: Arizona State University's MAC Program. MAC stands for Master's and Certification. This wonderful program allows students to obtain a teaching certificate AND a Master's degree in Education at the same time. But what made this program so appealing to me was its time frame: only 10 months! It seemed too good to be true.
When friends of mine are falling in love, I've often heard them say: "It's like this person was MEANT for me." Well is it possible for an education program to be MEANT for you? I mean, I found exactly what I wanted: a super quick program especially made for people who already have their bachelor's degree in something else but are looking to become teachers. And as a bonus, you get your master's degree at the same time. It really was too good to be true.
So I did the typical thing any person who's falling in love does: I danced around my room while thinking about this awesome program, I posted the MAC acceptance letter up in my room to admire, I bragged to my closest friends about how awesome the program was, etc. But like any good relationship, I understood that this program was going to be a LOT OF HARD WORK.
At least I thought I understood that.
On the first day of class in August, one of our professors said this: "Well, I am sure that each and every one of you is a truly dedicated, committed kind of person. Or else you wouldn't have signed up for Teacher Boot Camp."
Teacher Boot Camp is correct. This program is really a two-year program crammed into 10 grueling months. Last semester, I completed 30 credit units and finished two phases of my internship (one in a 2nd grade class and one in a 7th grade class). I am now 5 months into the program. Half-way through! Right now, I am in 5-hour classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights (5:00 to 10:00pm), and I am interning in a 5th grade class on Wednesdays and Thursdays from 8:00 to 3:00.
Everyone in the MAC program takes all the same night classes together, which means I have been with the same 14 people in 5-hour classes for the last 5 months. We're really like family now. As the youngest student in this program, I soak in the stories and life experiences of my "comrades." Some of my classmates are former bank managers, engineers, FBI employees, business executives....all people who opted for a career change to become teachers. As my good friend Ginger put it, "I've worked in business for a long, long time and made a lot of money. Now I just want to give back."
Between my classes and the internship, I'm in school around 30 hours a week. And to pay the bills in the mean time, I work at Dillard's between 20 and 30 hours a week as well. Oh and then there's the homework. Oh my....the homework.
So in the last 5 months, if I have missed your call, cancelled hang-out plans with you, whizzed by you on the freeway without waving hello, or completely ignored you all together, you now know why. I apologize. I still love you though. I promise.
Here's a picture of our class last month....right after we turned in the Biggest Paper of Our Lives. In May, our class will be graduating, ready to face the world as elementary school teachers. We're stoked. Can you tell?
Alternate title: Why Yes, You Can Get A Master's Degree in Just 10 Months
It's mornings like this morning, when I engage in conversations that begin with any of the following questions, that I realize how necessary this blog is:
"So Kayleen...tell me...what are you doing right now in life?"
"Kayleen, how are things going at CCV?"
"Kayleen! I thought you moved away? I haven't seen in you in months! How long are you in town for?"
"Kayleen. What? You're alive?"
I finally realized it's high time I post the infamous "Life Update" blog. So here's where I've been, where I am, and what I'll hopefully be doing in the near future...
In May of 2007, my job at Christ's Church of the Valley ended. I had always wanted to have the option of working in either a church setting or in the public school setting, and I figured it was the perfect time to work on the second part of that goal. With my bachelor's degree already in hand, all I needed to become a teacher was a teaching certificate. As I researched the colleges in my area, I stumbled upon the most amazing program ever: Arizona State University's MAC Program. MAC stands for Master's and Certification. This wonderful program allows students to obtain a teaching certificate AND a Master's degree in Education at the same time. But what made this program so appealing to me was its time frame: only 10 months! It seemed too good to be true.
When friends of mine are falling in love, I've often heard them say: "It's like this person was MEANT for me." Well is it possible for an education program to be MEANT for you? I mean, I found exactly what I wanted: a super quick program especially made for people who already have their bachelor's degree in something else but are looking to become teachers. And as a bonus, you get your master's degree at the same time. It really was too good to be true.
So I did the typical thing any person who's falling in love does: I danced around my room while thinking about this awesome program, I posted the MAC acceptance letter up in my room to admire, I bragged to my closest friends about how awesome the program was, etc. But like any good relationship, I understood that this program was going to be a LOT OF HARD WORK.
At least I thought I understood that.
On the first day of class in August, one of our professors said this: "Well, I am sure that each and every one of you is a truly dedicated, committed kind of person. Or else you wouldn't have signed up for Teacher Boot Camp."
Teacher Boot Camp is correct. This program is really a two-year program crammed into 10 grueling months. Last semester, I completed 30 credit units and finished two phases of my internship (one in a 2nd grade class and one in a 7th grade class). I am now 5 months into the program. Half-way through! Right now, I am in 5-hour classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights (5:00 to 10:00pm), and I am interning in a 5th grade class on Wednesdays and Thursdays from 8:00 to 3:00.
Everyone in the MAC program takes all the same night classes together, which means I have been with the same 14 people in 5-hour classes for the last 5 months. We're really like family now. As the youngest student in this program, I soak in the stories and life experiences of my "comrades." Some of my classmates are former bank managers, engineers, FBI employees, business executives....all people who opted for a career change to become teachers. As my good friend Ginger put it, "I've worked in business for a long, long time and made a lot of money. Now I just want to give back."
Between my classes and the internship, I'm in school around 30 hours a week. And to pay the bills in the mean time, I work at Dillard's between 20 and 30 hours a week as well. Oh and then there's the homework. Oh my....the homework.
So in the last 5 months, if I have missed your call, cancelled hang-out plans with you, whizzed by you on the freeway without waving hello, or completely ignored you all together, you now know why. I apologize. I still love you though. I promise.
Here's a picture of our class last month....right after we turned in the Biggest Paper of Our Lives. In May, our class will be graduating, ready to face the world as elementary school teachers. We're stoked. Can you tell?
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