I'm going to miss you grandpa

Last week we hosted a barbecue at my parent's house with some friends and I had a conversation in which I was told that I was not a very attractive (read: ugly) baby. And then some. It went like this. 

I was in the kitchen making bruschetta, minding my business. My boyfriend was beside me and there were some people in the living room nearby playing cards. One of the guys in the living room looked up at the wall and commented on the baby pictures of me and and my sister Laura. 

"You weren't a very good looking baby or toddler," says my admiring boyfriend.

From across the room: "Hey tiffany, you look almost exactly the same now as you did back then!" 

Poor, poor timing hahaha. In my defense, I was scared of strangers (and everything for that matter) when I was a baby. So a stranger professionally taking my photo was just asking for a weepy eyed, red faced me.

But nonetheless, here's to hoping my own baby will be cuter :)

Crash.

On my way home today there was an accident on the high way. Car flipped, glass every where, car parts scattered and crushed, the way we would flatten soda cans in high school, stomping quick and fast with our converse sneakers. Rubber against metal, metal against road. We're not supposed to see the innards of a car.

It had just happened, and the cops weren't even there yet, but within minutes I saw flashing lights behind me, a police car weaving its way through confused drivers sitting in traffic, not yet aware of how serious the accident was.  It's astounding how easily a tragedy can become a mere inconvenience. How many times have I sat annoyed, accelerating and braking impatiently to get ahead of an accident. Gotta go gotta go. The frightened victims and the totaled car becomes just a rock to move around, like an ant in a long line of ants taking a detour and mindlessly drumming on. I'll cluck sympathetically, shake my head to say that I shook my head to show some compassion, and then move on. This time. Well this time I didn't even wait long in traffic. It was a fresh wound, and there were no cops or time or long lines of cars to buffer. What did I do? I clucked sympathetically, longer than I usually would. I shook my head, a couple more times than I usually would. Then moved on. On on on.

But it stays with me still and I can't shake it off. Maybe I shouldn't shake it off. Maybe it's not supposed to leave.

understanding Grace

cows grazing in Ireland. Near the Cliffs of Moher.

"You know that you're way overdue for your car inspection right? You should have gotten it done in November. It's April." The car mechanic gives me a disapproving look and I nod sheepishly, guilty as charged.

"I know, I know. I've been meaning to do it..." I trail off.

Maybe I should have feigned ignorance. Inspection? Huh? What's that? Is it better to be oblivious, or to know but not do anything about it. When these thoughts come to me, I'm always reminded of Jesus on the cross praying to the Father Forgive them for they know not what they do. If I know exactly what I'm doing, I guess I'm without excuse. Better to not know at all, I decide.

"The DMV closes soon," he says, as he glances at the clock. "You might be able to catch them if you go now."

So off I went, driving fast, off to the inspection center. I was the last one in for the day with a ticket time of 12:01. They closed at 12 but I somehow squeezed in. I expected the inspection guy to give me a dirty look and maybe an eye roll. Lady, you're way past your inspection date. I deserved that and more. But no, no critical gaze, only, "Turn off your engine dear, leave the key in the ignition...you can turn it on again dear." 15 minutes and a new 2014 sticker later, it was over.

The incident reminded me of how thankful I am for grace, and how undeserving I am of it. It gives me a tiny glimpse of the Father's grace for me through Jesus Christ.

How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure. That He should give His only Son, to make a wretch His treasure. Thank God that Christ's blood covers over a multitude of sin, both the ones I do without knowing, as well as the ones I commit in full knowledge, in active rebellion.

The Places We Go

My adorable 96 year old grandpa eating the same meal he has every day :)

I stumbled upon someone's blog the other day, someone who was my friend years ago in middle school when the boys we crushed on were given girl nicknames (read Brian nicknamed Brianna. Creative, I know). When every interaction was analyzed to bits and promptly assigned some "deeper", sensitive meaning. The last conversation I remember having with this girl was on the bus to our 8th grade Yosemite trip, where we sat side by side and went down her paper list of things to talk about, which she had prepared in advance. I still remember (or think I remember) the California sun glinting through the trees as our bus rolled by. We were sitting near the front of the bus. And now, 8 and some years later, she's living in NYC writing in her blog likened to Carrie's column from Sex in the City, about life in the city in your 20s. She writes about traveling, love and sex, observations about boys (masquerading as men), resolutions, and I realize that I don't know this girl any more. Of course that makes sense, since so much time has passed, but life has taken us to such different places, through such different experiences, that we are unrecognizable as our fourteen year old selves. It makes me a little bit sad, but I know it's just reality.

I've never been much of a planner or an organized dweller of the past. By organized dwelling I mean, "this year I accomplished so and so and this next year I will accomplish this and that." Okay maybe that's just called making resolutions. Haha, I totally just came up with my own pretentious phrase for it. This year I realized that I have a lot of problems rooted in sin and laziness that have developed over the years. As I was thinking about it the other day, I tried to trace it back to a time to when it started, but couldn't put my finger on it. For years now, I have been used to kind of sitting back and allowing life to happen to me, rather than putting myself out there and taking risks. Instead of pursuing things passionately I let my passions come and go on a whim. For a brief moment I'll burn with a feeling that I need to do something. Live out my faith better. Love Christ more. Read my Bible. Go on a run. It's an urge that doesn't last long, although I still want to do these things. The excuses kick in and I'm left feeling lukewarm while inside is a gnawing that there must be something more than how I'm doing what I'm doing.

I think I need to ask myself some questions and pray a heck of a lot more than I have been. When was the last time I prayed consistently for something because I wanted it so badly? When was the last time I challenged myself to take a risk and live boldly for my Savior in faith that He will fulfill His promises? What am I afraid of and where does the fear stem from? Why is it so darn hard to follow through on simple things when it comes to friendships--calling someone back, checking in continuously, just hanging out. I want to set goals and keep them. I want to know that God loves me, and be challenged and compelled by that love to give more generously, love more compassionately, and live more intentionally.

I can't say that 2012 was bad. A lot of wonderful, totally undeserving things happened. I got a job quickly post college, and though it wasn't completely what I had in mind, it has taught me to be more disciplined in my design, to see things I never saw before, and has given me a much needed reality check that I can't design like I'm a student any more. Real world application, FDA requirements and all, really matter. I'm in a relationship now with a boy who is wonderful and sweet. Who loves God and leads and encourages me to seek Him out. Who feels things so deeply that he can't fall asleep and loves classical music so much that he notices nuances in phrases that are invisible to the common ear. I'm attending an awesome church (reminder to get on becoming a member ASAP) with great fellowship and Gospel centered teachings. There is a lot to be thankful for, if I sit up and pay attention and recognize how good and gracious God is.

One final thing to be thankful for. My friend from high school recently accepted Jesus as her Savior :) I don't think I ever shared the Gospel with her, but I'm incredibly humbled and thankful that another sister or brother in Christ was more faithful than I in explaining what Jesus on the cross means for our lives. When she texted me with the news I was floored and so excited for her and her life. It made me realize that I don't feel that enough for my own life. I need to constantly remind myself, when I slip back into old sins and feel so unmarked by joy sometimes, that God has adopted me as His own and that I am given new life as well.