Reprogramming

Y'know, there are days, and there are days. I don't think I need a new computer yet, but I'm starting to wonder....

I'm sure you know how it is. When you get a computer, you get the best you can afford, for what you need it for. I'm a student, so I need to be able to create papers and Powerpoint presentations, and I need to be able to search the internet for information for those very things. I spend time online talking to my friends, so I need to be able to load pages fast enough to keep up with conversations, and run my (everlasting) Scrabble games. I love books and music, so I shop for them online. I have an enormous external hard drive just for my music collection, so I need to be able to run iTunes while doing other things. In other words, I don't need a top-of-the-line rig, but it needs to move fast enough to keep up. And lately, well, I'm seeing that wonderful little icon that we Mac users jokingly call "the spinning beach ball of death". She's running slower and slower, and even though I've ran software on her that is supposed to do things like clean out my caches, she's still creeping on me. ARGH!

When my little Mac Mini was new, she ran like the wind. But I've had her for what, four years now? And web content takes more and more from a computer to run. Think of it like this: You want to fill up a jug with water, but it's coming out of a fire hydrant. So, you either need a big-mouthed jug, or something that will help you channel that water into your jug, like a funnel. Right now, the poor lil' mini is having trouble keeping up with the data flow! So, it's time to consider something important: do I take the Mini over to the Apple store to see if they can do what my software couldn't, and make it run faster again, or do I get another computer?

I've had work done on my previous Mac, a second generation iMac, one of those candy colored rigs that looked like retro TVs. And I've learned to respect the ability of a good technician to know what makes my 'puter tick. Unlike yours truly, they know what a computer is supposed to be able to do, and what to do when it decides that it doesn't want to do it anymore. I've watched my previous tech guy work a keyboard like a virtuoso pianist, and in minutes have it acting like it just came out of the box. A good tech guy knows computers. And whether it means clearing out the junk that has collected over the last several years, updating software to the latest version, or opening up the case to add more memory, the right tech guy's expertise means the difference between a computer that works poorly and a system that operates just the way the designer meant it to.

Funny, but that makes me think of how my life goes sometimes. Sometimes, I'm a little bit like my Mac. When all goes the way it's supposed to, I run very well, thank you. I can handle my schoolwork, my relationships with other people, my work, my music, and make it all look easy. But sometimes, I start to bog down. Earlier programming, things that I learned years ago, start to make me move slower and slower. I hear "you can't do that", and "are you sure you're smart enough?", and "nobody else has the time to help you". I start to feel like my load is impossible to carry, and stagger under the weight of it all. I can't do it anymore.

But that's not how my Maker put me together. I was created, designed, made for incredible things. And sometimes, I need to have the old programming deleted, the new programming put in its place. When I've bogged down to the point that I can't go on, the things that slow me down need to be removed. When I feel like I'm not able to handle the load, I need to allow myself to be helped to carry it.

This can be tough, sometimes. I want to think I can do it all on my own. But that's not how I was designed. I need help, and I need to admit it to God, my friends, and myself. And with the help of God and my friends, I can do this. I can be what I was made to be.

And I can hardly wait to see how it's going to turn out.

Your (work in progress) sister,

Darcyjo

It doesn't take much...

Once, a friend of mine commented (after watching me crack up over something pretty juvenile) "It doesn't take much to amuse you, does it?" To be honest, actually, no. It doesn't take much to make me laugh, make me happy, make me smile. And it comes in pretty handy sometimes, know what I mean?

I have two days a week where I spend 10 hours on campus, either in class taking lecture notes, or between classes reading one of my five textbooks. One day out of the week, I have an evening Bible study at my church (currently we're doing the Alpha course, but more on that soon!), Saturday I have band rehearsal and my one and only cleaning job, and Sunday I'm at my church from 7:30 am till 12:30, either working in one of our services or helping set up/break down. So, what with that, studying, all the chores that a single person has, and anything else that just might come up and need doing, my time for fun can sometimes be somewhat limited.

Yet, I can, and do, find time for fun.

Example: I took Friday off this week, and spent the entire day reading. Not a textbook. Not something serious, but two unassigned books! Cover to cover! Utter joy! One was the third book in a fantasy trilogy, Toby Bishop's "Airs of Night and Sea", the other was Max Brooks' "World War Z". One, a somewhat "horse and her girl" young adult book, the other a fascinatingly gory look at a "zombie apocalypse". Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum, right? But, books are FUN! And I always have several books in progress, one tucked in my purse, one in my truck for odd moments of free time.

Sometimes, I go on day hikes. I put on my boots, pack a lunch and a couple of water bottles, and take one of our local trails for several hours, just to get away. Green trees, a rushing stream with a heron fishing in it, the sounds of birds and squirrels, and peace! Eventually, I hope to take another crack at a major route like the Appalachian Trail, but in the meantime there's always shorter alternatives like Company Creek just down the road from my apartment. Fun doesn't have to be loud or expensive, y'know?

Among the many things I do online, I play Scrabble with my friends at Facebook. Yes, I'm one of them, one of those middle-aged people that have invaded FB, and I not only use it to keep track of my friends, I use it to play. Of course, several of my opponents are incredibly good, and I get creamed on a regular basis, but it's still fun to me! I also spend time chatting with friends, reading blogs and interesting articles, and writing.

Finally, and best of all, my friends make me smile. Between my online buddies (and you know who you are!) and my North Carolina crew, I have the best friends I could ever hope for! I've known some of the online gang for many years now, and we've shared both hard times and good ones together. Some, like my friend Denny, have become face-to-face friends. And no matter how far apart we may be, whether it be England or Australia, we share our joys with each other, God bless 'em all!

My friends here, well, are one of my very best blessings, as well as my biggest source of fun. We chat about almost anything you can imagine, play everlasting games of Scrabble, sing together, go out for occasional dinners, and share all the amazing hopes and dreams that God has sent our way. They know my quirks (most of 'em, anyway!), and I know theirs. I can be me, and they can be who they are. I love it!

So, my friends, what makes you happy? What makes you laugh? What do you do for fun, and who do you love to be with? Today, look at all your joys, and thank God for 'em!

Your (easily amused) sister,

Darcyjo

Only you, kid, ONLY you...

The entrance is still a bit sticky, and my tiny studio apartment smells like laundry detergent. But I think I managed to get it all off the floor. I hope.

Yep, it's another "only you" moment. I had just finished two week's worth of laundry, after running short on socks. I was putting some cleaning rags into my little storage closet, accidentally nudged the bag with the Wisk in it, and it fell. Upside down. Shattering the top, shoving the remains into the inside of the bottle, and allowing it to pour all over my vacuum cleaner. I stood there for a moment, stunned, as the blue goo oozed all over the tile......then frantically took all of my freshly washed cleaning rags and mopped it up, while trying not to get stabbed by the fragments of plastic in the mess. I think I managed to keep from muttering anything I wouldn't want overheard.

This, ladies and gents, is my life in a nutshell. I am, for the most part, a reasonably happy woman. Lots of good things happen in my life, no doubt about it. But I attract moments like this like a dog attracts fleas. Never anything that would really get me hurt, never anything that would cause real problems, but I have had more than my share of moments that look like reruns of "I Love Lucy". And I've managed to provide my friends and relations with many a laugh over the years. (See, I knew there had to be a good reason for all this!)

When I drop something important, it goes in the one spot I can't reach without heavy equipment. (My one and only pancake turner is currently behind my immovable stove.) I have been sprayed by innumerable bottles and cans, mostly when I'm wearing white. If I'm carrying something heavy, stand back, you don't want it to be your foot. (Mine? I'm used to it at this point!) I attract poison ivy, fire ants, stray dogs, rolling shopping carts in parking lots, and an inebriated guy on Hillsborough Street that thought I needed a hug! And when I have problems with my truck, well, it's the interesting kind. My engine likes to rev up all by itself. I have windshield wipers that turn on and off on hot days. And I managed to freeze my TIRES to a parking spot on the day I needed to go see a foot doctor....twenty minute walk on an injured foot, anyone?

I can't even manage to get mad properly! Once, when I was thoroughly annoyed with my family for not noticing something nice I had done, I was stomping through the snow. You guessed it, I hit a patch of ice with my left foot and down I went....feeling my ankle twist backwards and sideways at the same time! After a good six weeks with my sprained ankle in an air cast while trying to continue my housecleaning job, I came to the conclusion that it was a bad idea to get that mad.

But if this little talent of mine has a good side, it's that it has helped me to develop a sense of humor. Let me illustrate for you.

Last summer, I spent a week on my very first major hike: fifty miles on the Appalachian Trail. As an adult staffer for a youth group, yet. It was an incredible week, even though I am a tremendously slow hiker and was outdistanced every day by most of the group. I managed to get bug bitten, sunburned, exhausted, and lost five toenails. (No, not immediately, it took several months...oh, never mind, I'll explain some other time!) But the most interesting things was (you guessed it) falling off the trail. Yep.

I was on a narrow stretch of switchbacks with a young lady hiker, using a hiking staff to keep my balance, and making good time. Since we were in heavy tree cover, there were a lot of leaves on the ground, and sometimes it was hard to see what was firm trail and what was a pile of leaves. And yes, I didn't see it coming. I put the tip of my staff on the edge of the trail thinking it was firm ground.....and lost my balance. Down I went. (I can remember, as I fell, thinking something like "ooops.") I rolled, pack and all, about 15 feet till I hit a tree. With my pack, not my head, thank the dear Lord! Didn't even hurt, with all the leaves.

My hiking partner was a bit perturbed, of course. I managed to calm her down, then crawl back up the incline to the trail, all the while laughing at myself. All I got out of it was a small scratch on my left shoulder, and leaves in my hair. Oh, and another story to tell, of course

Y'know, God is good. I'm still in one piece after all these years. But I do tend to have days where one of my friends, after witnessing another of my little incidents, will roll their eyes and say "only you, Darcy, only you."

Anyone else have a story to tell? I'd love to hear it, if you'd like to share a laugh with me!

Your (bruised but amused) sis,

Darcyjo

You know it just ain't easy...

¿Hablas español?

With those two words, you now know what my most difficult subject in school is. Right now, anyway. Spanish is a lot of hard, continuous work, and for some reason that bothers me.

Why, you might ask? After all, I'm taking four, count 'em, FOUR psychology courses, two of them 400 level (read "senior", all of you who haven't been here yet), and I'm not whining about them even though I'm reading and writing like mad to get through them with good grades. Yet, Spanish is the one subject that makes me start sweating at the very word "examen". Yep, yesterday was my first chapter exam, on chapter 10 of my brand-new book.

But why does Spanish worry me so? One simple reason: I have to really work hard at it.

I know some of you are laughing now. I'd be laughing too, it it was someone else. But here's the deal: when I first went back to school, several years ago, I was worried sick about being able to handle it. I didn't know how to write a paper, I didn't know how to use a lot of the functions on a computer, I hadn't taken a class since I had graduated from high school in 1977! And yet, once I got started, I learned how to handle it all. As a matter of fact, much to my surprise, I was actually pretty good at it! So, I got pretty decent grades, and held down a full-time job while going to school part-time. I found that I could write fairly well, understand the reading I was having to do, and really enjoy my classes. Wonderful!

Then I found out that I would have to pass the intermediate level of a foreign language to graduate from any university in the UNC system, so I chose Spanish. Easy, right? It's a language spoken by quite a number of people in this part of the country, and I didn't have to learn a new alphabet. Yeah, easy. Till the first day of my first class, when I realized that everyone else in my beginning class had taken at least one other class before that one. And I started to have to struggle to keep up.

So, here I am, in intermediate Spanish, a class I will have to pass to graduate, and I'm already working hard to keep up with my (half my age) classmates. And sweating it out. WHY? Because I'm having to WORK at it! Instead of having fun writing interesting papers and getting into cool discussions in my class (like the vast majority of my classes since I went back to school), I am writing notes as fast as I can, and trying to understand a textbook that might as well be in Greek. ¡Ay, Dios mio!

And yet, as much as I'd rather be in a class that I can have fun in, I need to do this one. This is part of my requirement to graduate, and I need to just go ahead on and study. Sometimes, I'm a bit spoiled by the fact that I can get decent grades in a lot of subjects without spending every spare moment curled up with a textbook. Sometimes, I have to remember that good things don't always come easy.

A couple of weeks ago, I was again reminded of that very fact. I received a note from someone I knew a long time ago, when I was a teenager.

I was a pretty awkward kid back then. I liked books better than I did people, but I hated school because I didn't fit in, and everybody knew it. Like a lot of kids, I endured a lot of bullying, a lot of pain. Without going into unnecessary details, I'll just say that it was the grace of God that brought me through those years, and into a happy life as an adult. It's not a time that I've spent a lot of time thinking about in the last couple of decades, by my own choice.

So when this note showed up, I was more than a little surprised at the fact that she wanted to say she was sorry for her part in those years. And even more surprised by the fact that I was feeling upset. In all those years, I had never honestly realized that I hadn't forgiven the kids who had made my life so unhappy, I had just managed to stuff it down and forget about it. But it was still there, deep inside me, waiting for a chance to reemerge over thirty years later.

So, it's time for me to do another hard thing: forgive people who wronged me, even though we have been separated by an entire continent and thirty years. Yeah, this is tough. It is hard work for me to let this pain go, to forgive, and to let the wounds heal that shaped a portion of what I became as an adult. But if I run away from it, as I have many times before and with many other people, I will only harm myself. When God commands that we forgive, it's for our own good, so that we can heal and grow towards what we have been created to be, and not be mired down by anger and grief over our past. I can't pretend that it doesn't need to be done, just because it's tough. It is necessary, that's all I really need to know.

So, folks, it's back to work. With the help of God, my friends and my family, I can do hard things. Whether they involve a textbook or not.

¡Gracias a Dios!

Your hardworking sister,

Darcyjo

Ch...Ch...Changes!

Strange to say, I really don't like change. You might find that amusing, considering that in the last several years I've gone from cleaning houses full-time to being a senior at a major university. And you'd be right, it is pretty funny. Yet, I don't find most change a whole lot of fun. I really prefer to stick with what I've always done, even when it's obviously time to move on. And my clothes are a pretty good example of that. Let me elaborate here for you...

Since I've left the cleaning business, it's time to change my wardrobe. I can get rid of a number of t-shirts and pants that have tears, bleach marks, and permanent stains in them from my work. I can wear my nicer clothes to class if I want to, and I can start looking to expand my wardrobe so that I can go to church or interviews and look like the person I want to be: positive, self-assured, and intelligent.

This isn't all that easy on a student budget, I can assure you. I'm a constant visitor to thrift shops and consignment stores, looking for items that will

A. Look good on me.

B. Go well with the rest of my wardrobe

C. Not cost so much that I have to skip groceries for the week.

I can find myself spending a whole hour just going through the racks of shirts, jeans, and skirts, looking for just the right item, piling each find over my arm until I have a load to take to the dressing room for that most important moment: the mirror test. Stacking my finds in the dressing room, I try on each item and stare in the mirror, trying to see how each piece makes me look. And it can be interesting, really! The color that looked good out in the store now makes me look a bit washed out. The trendy top hits me at the wrong spot in my midsection, and emphasizes, well, that I'm bigger than I want to be! (Ooops, better not have that burger for lunch after all, hmmmm?) The jeans are too long, too short, too baggy or too snug. Back in the pile they go. And yet, I fooled myself into thinking they looked good, because they look just like what I usually wear, just in better shape. Good thing I tried them on before I got to the check-out.

Then, it happens. I put on a blouse that is a different shade than I normally wear, a slightly different cut, and there it is. It makes my eyes more blue, my hair more silvery. It fits just right across the bust and my midriff. And it goes with a skirt and a pair of pants I already own! Perfect! We have a winner! I take my much smaller pile of goodies to the checkout, and head for home. And I have a change to my personal style that I can live with.

It's the same with my internal changes. I'm not comfortable making changes in how I look at things, in how I live my day-to-day life. And yet, looking at it, I can tell that my old habits and thoughts just don't fit me anymore! They bind or chafe, don't match what I've come to know over the last few years, don't cover the right spots. They're unsuitable for everyday use, and yet I stick with them because they're old comfortable friends, like my bleach-stained work shirts.

But like my old shirts, it may be time to let them go. Take a look at things in my life, hold them up to the mirror and see if they're really what I should be wearing, or whether they're due to be replaced with the new things that I'm learning and being shown. I'm learning, little by little, to see myself as who I really am in Christ, and it's time to look and act like that person I was created to be. Time to take off the old me, and put on the new, the one that I'm finally getting to know something about.

So, next to the front door of my apartment, there are several bags of clothes waiting to go to the thrift shop. Time to move out the old and make way for the new.

Got anything old you need to get rid of?

Your better-dressed sister,

Darcyjo

Ready...set...

It's TIME! School has started at last!

Of course, it's not like it used to be. When I was a kid, school was new notebooks, crayons, and that perfect outfit for the first day. It was also wondering who my new teacher was going to be like, if I was going to have friends in my class, and if lunch was going to be any good. Pretty simple stuff here. Now, it's paying for my parking permit, purchasing my textbooks, getting ink for my printer, and using my student funds to pay for as many things as I can in advance, so I don't have to worry about them later. Oh, yeah, and so I don't accidentally spend that money on something less important. Been there, done that.

But it's still a bit of a thrill, packing my backpack with some of the enormous stack of books required by five different professors. Picking my outfit out for the first day. Packing my lunch so that I'm not sucked into the Atrium, home of our campus Chic-fil-A. Printing a class schedule so that I can remember the room numbers. And leaving my apartment early so that I can catch the bus up to main campus. Later on in the semester, it will seem a bit ho-hum, but right now, there's still a thrill to pulling up in front of the main library and joining the throng of students on their way to class. Especially since just a few years ago, I never would have thought I'd be here!

Now that I'm in my second year here, I've managed to learn a thing or two about how to get everything (mostly) done. And unlike some of my friends, I've got to have a routine, structure, to make it all work out. (I'd love to be one of those people who never stress and still seem to get good grades, but I'm not from that planet!)

I have to get up and go to bed around the same time each day. With rare exceptions, I'm up around six and in bed between ten and eleven. Why? Because if I don't, I start getting cranky, tired, and majorly dependent on caffeine. Yeah, those of you who know me well remember times that I was sucking down major amounts of diet Pepsi just to keep my eyes open. Not going to happen this year, if I can help it.

I have to spread out my work. When you just have one or two classes, you might be able to get away with throwing together your projects and papers at the last minute, and you might even manage to get decent grades doing it, if you're a good enough writer. But when you're looking at five different classes, professors, expectations, you had better plan to be working consistantly. Or, you're going to be pulling some major all-nighters, and you still might not get decent grades! See the last paragraph: might work for some people, doesn't work for me. At all.

I've got to take care of my body. When I'm under stress, I tend to overeat and under-exercise. Constantly. And anyone who doesn't think that being a full-time student is stressful has probably managed to forget what it's like. So, instead of going through the drive-thru at Wendy's for the third time this week, I need to take advantage of the tiny kitchen in my apartment and cook something that's half-way good for me. And instead of always taking the bus up to campus, I need to take the 30 minute walk from King Village to Poe, where the majority of my classes are. I've done it many times before, I just need to work to make it a habit.

I need to rest regularly. When everything cranks up, my classes, my church, my obligations, I tend to schedule things seven days a week, in a frantic effort to keep up. This time, I need to remember that it doesn't work. If I have too many obligations, I need to trim them back. And I have to have a rest day, weekly. This summer, for the first time, I chose a day for nothing but rest: no homework, paid jobs, or chores. Period. And I was still able to handle the load. This fall, I need to do the same thing, and make sure I don't slip back into my old habit of being constantly on the run. Friday may not work, this semester, but I need to choose a day and make it stick. Having a sabbath rest day just seems to make the rest of it work better.

I need to remember my friends. When I'm busy and stressed, I tell people I'm FINE. (One of these days, ask me what that really means, it's funny!) I might be struggling with a paper, lonely, wishing I was elsewhere, but I still tend to say that I'm fine. But I need to spend time with people who care about me, who can ask the right questions and not think that fine means much of anything, and who make me laugh and forget my stresses. I love my friends, and they love me. The last thing I need to do is stay away from them when I need them the most!

Finally, and most important, I need to remember God, and why I'm here. I need to spend quiet time in prayer, in studying scripture, in just being in His presence. When I do, I am reminded that there is a reason that I am doing what I am doing, and it's not just to get a degree. I'm here because God has called me here. And when I'm stressing the most, that is what I need to remember. Where God guides, He will provide. He's done so all along, and I know He's faithful.

So, I'm off to do some reading for class. One of 'em, anyway.

.......GO!

Your running sister,

Darcyjo

Can you hear me NOW?

I like loud. Yeah, I understand, I'm not supposed to, it's not good for me, but I like it anyway.

For the last several years, I've been a singer in a band called "Third Watch". We are the worship band for Evergreen United Methodist Church, but we are also a kickin' cover band, specializing in music from the sixties, seventies and eighties. In other words, just about anything that our Fearless Leader, Barry, is interested in. May I say, in all modesty (or lack thereof), WE ROCK. (The picture is of our band in an earlier incarnation, but I'm the chick on the microphone, of course!)

I spend several hours a week in rehearsal and performance with my band mates. And this week, we needed a lot of rehearsal time to pull off FL's plan: a performance of Huey Lewis' "Power of Love". Our keyboard guy and our horn player both had a lot of hard work to pull off the eighties sound that the piece needed, and FL worked up a cool guitar solo to go with it. But it took a good three hours of rehearsal time on Saturday to put all of the disparate pieces together so that we sounded like a band, not just five people making random loud noises.

After a while, the sound came together, in spite of various and sundry problems with the sound system. Time after time, the monitors (the set of speakers aimed at the musicians, not the audience, to give them an idea how they sound) would cut in and out. We'd stop and work on the board, the monitors, the amps, just about anything we could think of, trying to get everything to sound right consistently. And we thought we had it nailed down.

Move to this morning's service. We opened the service with "Power of Love", and it went pretty well, as well as the rest of the praise set. Yet, the sound system continued to cause us intermittent problems. And the sound levels needed to be constantly tweaked from the board. Yikes! It's a very good thing that we have excellent people doing the sound, because once the band cranks it up, it is no longer able to deal with the glitches, it's all in the hands of the sound guy. We were able to concentrate on doing what we came there to do, lead the congregation in singing to God, and leading into Pastor D's message for the morning.

Thinking about this, I've come to two conclusions about this morning:

First, sometimes your best efforts aren't going to be quite good enough. We're a good band, no doubt about it. But sometimes, in spite of the group's talent and our best efforts, it's not going to turn out the way we want it to. This morning, we were LOUD. When you have a trumpet, double keyboards, and a bass going, plus singers, (in a small sanctuary!) your sound levels can sometimes be somewhere in the neighborhood of overwhelming!

Even when we are doing the best we can, and using the gifts and talents that God gave us, it's not always going to be the way we want it to be. That's part of being human, and it can be humbling from time to time.

Second, and more importantly, accepting help is necessary! Sometimes, we need help from our sound guy, who is up there working on the board to even out the sound, and bring the volume down to a level where it isn't painful to the audience. Sometimes, it's other people with suggestions on what they liked and didn't like. Sometimes, it's volunteers who want to work with us, so that we can do even more interesting music.

In day-to-day life, it's the same for all of us. Accepting help and advice may sometimes be annoying or painful, I know. It is for me, that's for sure. But, since none of us know everything, it's good to listen to the people that God sends into our lives, and accept their help when we need it. Take it from a fairly loud person, sometimes I need to hear that I should tone it down!

So, another Sunday ended, another week begins. I hope I can manage to remember this long enough to use it as my fall semester gets started this week.

Let's make some music together!

Your (no microphone necessary) sis,

Darcyjo