9:15 AM I am sitting in my truck with the heater and radio blaring, sitting in the college campus parking lot. There’s a song playing saying “Bring our troubles and lay em down”. My first week of college is half way through and I will not lie, it’s been terrible! Now don’t be alarmed, classes and school in general are great; more just that life has decided to make me miserable. Everything sorta started Sunday where I had one very upsetting situation with a person, then after that several things fell apart at once. And when I say fell apart, I literally mean my truck fell apart! Tire popped on way to work, engine started smoking while going to Taco Bell, a big and unexplainable dent in the side, and my headlight went out. There have been major problems with certain people, which I don’t care to discuss. But through everything, I think the biggest thing I will always remember about my experience my first week of college is how I have been completely blown away by how amazing my God is.
It’s like that song is saying, any problem I have, I can just lay it down and God will take care of it. I guess that’s the best way to describe the revelation I have had this week. I have been on a journey for several years of learning to fully put my trust in Christ and major mole holes were overcome while believing for funds for Peru. But in some points it was just mimicking the words of my teachers and pastors. Then today it was like some one flipped a switch and all those words were glued together and make total sense. A week ago I had no idea how I was going to pay for school; now I am in student government and they are paying for half! A guy asked me out and through a series of unfortunate events I told him yes, then I don’t know, and then no. I told him yes as an immediate response but immediately felt wrong. After a day of emotions and unrest I knew I needed to tell him no. I couldn’t quite explain what was wrong because he’s a great guy, not to mention gorgeous. When I talked to him I felt like crying, but the words found their way out calmly, kindly and positive. I still cried when the conversation was over but for the first time since he asked me, I felt peace. I know God put the unrest in my to let me know this wasn’t the best for either of us. Then driving to work my tire popped. I stood there on the side of the high way trying to remember what Steve had just taught me a week ago, but I was failing miserably. I said aloud in frustration, “Oh God, help me” then a voice came from behind, “You need some help?” I had to bite my lip to not laugh. A guy saw me and pulled over to give me a hand, and I wasn’t even late for work! That was when it all hit me, “Hey, I asked God to help me and he did.” In every situation this past week I have asked for God’s help and he has given it. So even though this week has been a nightmare from one point of view (there are many ugly situations I have not mentioned), it has also been amazing. I love class, student government, my job, and more than anything I love what God is doing in my life. I am seriously struggling to find the words to describe what’s happening. Everyday I wake I am even more grateful for the decision I made 4yrs ago to accept Christ. He is simply amazing! It has taken me two class breaks to finish this and it’s now 1:31. I needed those breaks to think of how I could word what’s going on. So for friends and family reading to know how I am, I will sum it all up in one sentence. Life is chaotic but I am in God’s hands, and that’s a great place to be! Ha ha ha! The song on the radio right now is Kutless “Sea of faces” What a perfect moment! ;D
Memory Mondays I will share different fun and/ or funny memories. Fitness Friday, follow along as I try to lose weight. Every day in between, take a seat and enjoy learning about my life. This blog is a combo of memories, updates, and weight loss
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Call me crazy
But I think I have made up my mind to write a book. It's been a dream my whole life, and while I was riding my bike this morning a story idea came to me. I think I am gonna run with it. I have a page written so far. Tell me what you think of it!
Her heart raced. Her lungs tightened. Sweat covered her forehead. Her world was spinning in circles. “Jenna!” she cried with panic in her voice, “Jenna Grace where are you? Answer me, please!” A large crowd now gathered around her but they were all a blur. Then from the distance one small boy’s cries stood out from the crowd. “Mommy, Mommy,” he wailed, “he hurt her. The bad man hurt the little girl!” Samantha’s thoughts and visions now centered on the small boy and his words. She ran to him and his mother. She placed both her hands on his shoulders. Tears streaming down her face, she struggled to keep her voice calm. “Have you seen her? Have you seen my little girl? Where is she? What happened?” His blue eyes met her terror stricken green eyes, and then quickly looked back at his mother. “I was playing tag with the little blonde girl. The blue van pulled up, the bad man jumped out and grabbed her. She screamed for her mommy, so he punched her in the face. Her head went down like she fell asleep, and he threw her in the van and drove away!”
“No!” Samantha screamed as she awoke in her bed. It was the same dream again; the nightmare that haunted her for the past twenty two years. This was not just a terrible dream; this was her life. She was twenty five when Jenna was taken. Jenna would be the same age now. All the `if only’s ran through her head. “If only I hadn’t taken her to the park that day. If only I had kept a better eye on her. If I had bought her that popsicle she wanted, she would have been eating, not playing. If only I had taken her to Grandma’s and not to the park. If only I had let stay in the bath even fifteen minutes longer.”
The question of what if would always follow the question of if only. What if Jenna hadn’t been taken? What would she be like now, how tall would she be, would she still be blonde, or what would her personality be like? Would she still be able to find the funny in every situation? Would she still like spending time with her mother? Would she go to University? What would she major in? Or would she have done what Samantha did; graduate high school, marry her sweetheart, spend a few years together, then start a little family.
Samantha’s biggest what if, that consumed her mind every hour of every day, “What if Jenna is still alive?” None of James Sprague’s victims had survived, but Jenna’s body had never been found. Sprague denied ever taking her. Maybe he didn’t. The video surveillance was Jenna with some one who resembled Sprague at the convenience store a state over, but detectives said they could not prove without a reasonable doubt that it was him. What if it was some other man with Jenna, and he still had her, or had given her to some one else?
She flashed back to the first few weeks, when another mother of a missing child had told her not to believe the media really cared. More children would go missing, more murdered, bigger stories would break. And when they lay their heads down at night, their thoughts will not be about Jenna. It was all true. With in weeks Jenna was no longer in the top stories. Six months she was no longer regularly featured, a year and six months Samantha stopped getting requests for interviews. Two years after Samantha was no longer recognized on the street as Jenna’s mom. Now, twenty two years later, no one knew who Jenna Grace Thompson was, no one cared. Once the reporters left, cameras stopped flashing, people stopped searching, investigators stopped investigating, Jenna was still gone. Samantha and Brian had divorced, he remarried six years later; but refused to have another child. Samantha wondered if Brian even cared about Jenna anymore. “Oh Jenna,” she choked on her tears, “Mommy misses you so much. Oh God,” she whispered, “I can’t do this much longer. Please, please just let me die.” She now shouted in anger, “Forty seven years old, minimum wage job, no car, crappy house, no family, no friends! I had everything, everything! Then you took my everything away! I lost everything when you took Jenna from me! You betrayed me! I hate this life, this dark world, I hate everything! Why am I here?! Why did you make me live this life?”
She didn’t know who she was shouting to. Who was to blame? Who should she be angry at? Was it God, the one who kidnapped Jenna, her husband who secretly despised her for losing Jenna, or her so called friends who she never heard from after the first time she was institutionalized?
To be continued
Her heart raced. Her lungs tightened. Sweat covered her forehead. Her world was spinning in circles. “Jenna!” she cried with panic in her voice, “Jenna Grace where are you? Answer me, please!” A large crowd now gathered around her but they were all a blur. Then from the distance one small boy’s cries stood out from the crowd. “Mommy, Mommy,” he wailed, “he hurt her. The bad man hurt the little girl!” Samantha’s thoughts and visions now centered on the small boy and his words. She ran to him and his mother. She placed both her hands on his shoulders. Tears streaming down her face, she struggled to keep her voice calm. “Have you seen her? Have you seen my little girl? Where is she? What happened?” His blue eyes met her terror stricken green eyes, and then quickly looked back at his mother. “I was playing tag with the little blonde girl. The blue van pulled up, the bad man jumped out and grabbed her. She screamed for her mommy, so he punched her in the face. Her head went down like she fell asleep, and he threw her in the van and drove away!”
“No!” Samantha screamed as she awoke in her bed. It was the same dream again; the nightmare that haunted her for the past twenty two years. This was not just a terrible dream; this was her life. She was twenty five when Jenna was taken. Jenna would be the same age now. All the `if only’s ran through her head. “If only I hadn’t taken her to the park that day. If only I had kept a better eye on her. If I had bought her that popsicle she wanted, she would have been eating, not playing. If only I had taken her to Grandma’s and not to the park. If only I had let stay in the bath even fifteen minutes longer.”
The question of what if would always follow the question of if only. What if Jenna hadn’t been taken? What would she be like now, how tall would she be, would she still be blonde, or what would her personality be like? Would she still be able to find the funny in every situation? Would she still like spending time with her mother? Would she go to University? What would she major in? Or would she have done what Samantha did; graduate high school, marry her sweetheart, spend a few years together, then start a little family.
Samantha’s biggest what if, that consumed her mind every hour of every day, “What if Jenna is still alive?” None of James Sprague’s victims had survived, but Jenna’s body had never been found. Sprague denied ever taking her. Maybe he didn’t. The video surveillance was Jenna with some one who resembled Sprague at the convenience store a state over, but detectives said they could not prove without a reasonable doubt that it was him. What if it was some other man with Jenna, and he still had her, or had given her to some one else?
She flashed back to the first few weeks, when another mother of a missing child had told her not to believe the media really cared. More children would go missing, more murdered, bigger stories would break. And when they lay their heads down at night, their thoughts will not be about Jenna. It was all true. With in weeks Jenna was no longer in the top stories. Six months she was no longer regularly featured, a year and six months Samantha stopped getting requests for interviews. Two years after Samantha was no longer recognized on the street as Jenna’s mom. Now, twenty two years later, no one knew who Jenna Grace Thompson was, no one cared. Once the reporters left, cameras stopped flashing, people stopped searching, investigators stopped investigating, Jenna was still gone. Samantha and Brian had divorced, he remarried six years later; but refused to have another child. Samantha wondered if Brian even cared about Jenna anymore. “Oh Jenna,” she choked on her tears, “Mommy misses you so much. Oh God,” she whispered, “I can’t do this much longer. Please, please just let me die.” She now shouted in anger, “Forty seven years old, minimum wage job, no car, crappy house, no family, no friends! I had everything, everything! Then you took my everything away! I lost everything when you took Jenna from me! You betrayed me! I hate this life, this dark world, I hate everything! Why am I here?! Why did you make me live this life?”
She didn’t know who she was shouting to. Who was to blame? Who should she be angry at? Was it God, the one who kidnapped Jenna, her husband who secretly despised her for losing Jenna, or her so called friends who she never heard from after the first time she was institutionalized?
To be continued
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