Don't get your hopes up

I won't consider this a real post, just wanted to give some shout outs and make a few observations.

My apologies to Brenna Schartz for not including her in my list of readers in that last post. I know very well that Brenna is a loyal fan of crissallissa.blogspot.com and my oversight is shameful. She is a good enough friend to remind me that she was wrongfully excluded, and I thank her for that. Brenna and I go way back to the days of pledging season 2004, ACU Leadership camps 2005, Office of Admissions 2005-2007, Jeanene Reese's Women in Christian Service class 2006, and Karaoke 2007. If you know Brenna, you know that Karaoke 2007 is probably the connection we have that you would most like to be a part of. :)

Tomorrow I have a lingerie shower to attend. In a week and a half I take the GRE. In two weeks I graduate from college. In a month I am a bridesmaid in the second wedding to come from my group of best friends from high school. In about 4 months I am moving to Brazil.

Conclusion: I am growing up way too fast. I still feel 14, (and maybe even look 14,) and 14 year olds do NOT attend lingerie showers, do NOT take GREs (they don't even take ACTs), do NOT graduate from college, are NOT bridesmaids in weddings, do NOT move out of the country (well, not without their parents, anyway.)

In the spirit of cliche, WHERE DID THE TIME GO??

Here I am, Lord. Send me.

Perhaps it's good to not leave that last post up for too long or I might lose my readership. (I say that like I have a little blog following, and though that counter on the right may have high viewing numbers, I don't actually know of anyone other than my mom and sister who read this. So...leave a comment.)

My sweet friend Deanna is also preparing for mission work in South America, but, unlike me, she is on a mission team that is committed to stay for at least 5 years. They won't be leaving for a few more years, but have an exciting survey trip planned at the end of this coming May. She wrote this on her blog yesterday and I was shocked at how eloquently she wrote exactly what I have been feeling:

"I desire with all my heart to do ministry in S. America but it is so scary to think of leaving awesome Colorado, my amazing family and friends, and the comfort of the US. But what is even scarier is thinking of what it would mean if I didnt go, knowing that God has called me to it. I dont want to be Moses, I want to be Isaiah. I dont want to say "Lord please, send anyone else" but "Here I am Lord, send me." (emphasis mine)

I just finished reading a missionary biography of a single woman missionary who spent her life working in India. When she first left home she was about my age, and she talks about how she listed all of the possible reasons she could think of why leaving all that was familiar behind to do mission work was a bad idea. I have to say I definitely identify with that, and have had plenty of sleepless nights where I myself list all the reasons going to Brazil is a pretty stupid idea. However, the outcome is always the same. I don't end with "Lord, send someone else," but with "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

I made another pie chart to show my fundraising progress. You will notice that the colors are the same (duh) but the proportions are different this time. Less blue, more yellow, just the way we want it to be! The 23.4% that I still lack is only $4,181 this time...and that is AMAZING. God is good. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I have now received $1,007 as a direct result of the Facebook group...YEAH!!!

Great News

You might find this post odd, even disgusting, but if you have ever lost a toenail, you understand its blogworthiness.

It all began July 9, 2006. My team was on our way out of Brazil, stopped in Sao Paulo for our 12 hour layover. We had tearfully left our friends in Natal only to be greeted in SP with the news that, due to the bankruptcy of the airline we were supposed to fly home on, we had no flight to the US. A 12 hour layover quickly became the biggest blessing in the world, giving us ample time to figure out how we would get home. For 6 hours we traversed back and forth across the three terminals, going from airline to airline, repeatedly being told how unfortunate it was that we had no tickets to get on their planes. For 6 hours.

6 hours.

In what I recall to be about hour 3, we realized how much time we were wasting by pulling our luggage behind us. Did I mention that this particular day happened to be the day of the World Cup final? Gaggles of people were crowded around every single TV in the terminals, which made navigating our way around the airport for 12 hours pretty awesome. Anyway, in hour 3 we stopped to pick up some luggage carts to make our adventure easier. As I hoisted my big ol' bag up on my luggage cart, it happened to catch my big toe nail on my right foot and pleasantly detach it from my toe. However, because the injury gods knew how fantastic of a day we were already having, the nail did not come off entirely, only enough to bleed profusely and hurt for the next 9 and half months.

If you're doing some quick math, 9 and half months from July 9, 2006 happens to put us at about...today.

If you're wondering what other kinds of things happen in a span of 9 and half months, allow me to share the things I've thought of for the last 9 and half months:

• the conception, development, and birth of a child
• 2 semesters of school plus breaks
  
• Fall, Winter, Spring
• Winter, Spring, Summer
• Spring, Summer, Fall
• Summer, Fall, Winter
• the life cycle of a big toe toenail
  

So this past weekend. My little toenail has been diligently growing out, viciously shoving its late counterpart into the light and away from life. I've nurtured this little thing, protected it from further injury, nursed it when it got stepped on. Last Friday I cut off what seems to be the last remaining parts left over from that fateful day in July. And this, my friends, is GREAT NEWS.

If you take a moral from this tale, which I hope you do, it is to always, always, travel in close-toed shoes.

If you're entirely sicked out and never want to visit my blog again, I apologize, and promise to not write a follow-up entry about how this was actually the second time in my life to lose this particular toenail. Oh, 6th grade science camp...

What do you want from me?

Question: What do you want from me?
Questioner: Jesus.

Setting: Wednesday night Bible class. 5 high school students and 5 college students sit in a sparsely decorated classroom. The high school students come from extremely low socioeconomic class, the college students all attend a private Christian university. The high school students are at church because the college students pick them up and bring them each week. The college students are freshly bathed, adequately fed, and there as "mentors." The high school students often scramble for meals in their homes and wear the exact same outfit every Wednesday. The discussion leader asks the group to imagine being with Jesus face to face when he asks,

"What do you want from me?"

Answer: A college student, on the verge of graduation and preparing to embark on a 2-year-long missions internship in an unnamed South American country (ahem) ponders the question. Of all the things she could ask Jesus for, she can't seem to narrow it down to just one. Finally, in admitted selfishness, she shares with her small discussion group consisting of 2 high school students and one other college student. "I would want Jesus to tell me it was all going to be okay, that I would be safe, my family would be healthy, my life would pan out in a normal course with no tragedy or bumps in the road."

After the college student's response, a high school student prepares her answer. "Surely her response will be parallel to mine," thinks the college student, "as she faces so much more instability in her daily life."

Then, contradictory to her typically loud and abrasive nature, the high school student timidly says "You know how in the Bible it says that Jesus baptized his disciples? I would want him to baptize me."

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:1-4

Let me clear something up. Contrary to what my previous post may suggest, I actually do have a life. A productive one. "This is what I do on Saturdays" is actually a comment on my taking the opportunity to rest on Saturdays. (Observation #1: I am a nerd. I consider making a pie chart "rest".)

Contrary to what a coupling of the previous post with the post before that may suggest, I do not spend all my time blogging, making pie charts, and getting banana cream pie shakes from Sonic. Those are activities included in the restful part of my life, when I'm resting from the productive part. The productive part includes classes, a job, and involvement with the FROGS class at church (which really deserves to be its own subject of a post.) Primarily because of these three broad categories of activities, added to the random activities that come up week per week, Saturdays are my days to sleep in, lay around, and make pie charts, apparently.

Today at lunch I turned on CNN and was bothered to see the breaking news about the tragedy at Virginia Tech. When I left for class the count of fatalities was up to 22. When I came home three hours later and turned it on again, the count was up to 33. I have been physically nauseous since. As students described details of the day, I couldn't help but wonder what that must feel like for those students, trying to imagine something like that happening at ACU. I couldn't. I couldn't imagine hearing about some guy shooting his girlfriend in Gardner, or maybe actually hearing the gunshots, then finding out he crossed campus to the Sherrod building and opened fire on classes that my friends were in. I can't imagine him walking in to my classroom and shooting my professor right in front of my eyes.

My stomach is churning for the students who witnessed it, the students who got up for a normal day of classes and never made it home, the families who might yet not even know that their child, in fact, was one of the 32. My stomach is churning for the "6-foot tall Asian guy wearing a leather jacket" who woke up today and thought this was his best option.

Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.

Hiatus: Terminated

Now THIS is awesome:Thanks to "Kids Zone" I was able to make this awesome pie chart illustrating the progress of my fundraising. As you can see, the chart, in Brazilian flag colors, shows you that I am 68.3% of the way to completing my fundraising for my first year of work in Natal. This fact alone made me so excited that I Googled "Pie Chart" and made one to show you precisely how far along I am. Then, not only was I excited about my fundraising, but I was excited about making a pie chart, because I meticulously chose the colors, font, font size, and chart style. This is what I do on Saturdays. (By the way, that 31.6% of blue up there represents $5,646 that I still lack. You know where to go >>.)

Things have been going remarkably well recently. As graduation quickly approaches, only 4ish weeks away, I am overcome with all kinds of conflicting emotions. I get excited, then I get sad, then I get really sad, then I think about Natal and get excited again, then I go to Highland and get sad again, then I hang out with friends and realize how much I am going to miss them, then I make a pie chart and forget my sorrows. I guess this is what happens when a phase of your life is coming to a close.

I'm sure all of you are anxiously awaiting the next installment of Introductions with Cris, so here we go: These are the fabulous missionaries who live in Natal. Marisa and Roberto, in white and blue, and their daughter, Andressa, in black in the middle. I would call them "some of the most amazing people I have ever known" but then my mom and sister would roll their eyes at my use of superlatives. However, the Signorettis truly are some of the most amazing people I have ever known. They received our team like we were their own children and shared their lives with us like we were old friends. Before we ever even met them, Marisa was signing her emails to me with "I love you." Their only daughter, Andressa, shares her parents with all of the other young people in the church who don't have parents to look up to, and shares them willingly. They are kind, generous, hilarious, passionate, and an asset to the city of Natal. This family is one of the primary reasons I wanted to return to Natal. Working under their supervision will be a privilege and is sure to be a blessed experience.

I have a vice...

...and it's any dessert that has bananas in it.

Odd? Perhaps. Delicious? Of course. Be it banana cream pie shakes from Sonic, (order with caution, they are HIGHLY addictive) my mom's banana pudding, (which, I discovered yesterday, is the best banana pudding in the world) or a chocolate-covered-banana-on-a-stick from my favorite locally-owned Paleteria (Mary's), I just can't help myself. I love banana treats.
I did a little research on what the word vice actually means, because I'll be honest and tell you I've been throwing it around for a while now without actually knowing if I use it correctly. Wikipedia told me this:

"Vice is a practice or habit that is considered immoral, depraved, and/or degrading in the associated society... In more minor useages, vice can refer to a fault, a defect, an infirmity, or merely a bad habit. Synomyms for vice include fault, depravity, sin, iniquity, wickedness and corruption. The modern English term that best captures its original meaning is the word vicious, which means 'full of vice.'"

Eh. I wouldn't call my love for banana desserts wicked, or immoral, or even depraved, but maybe it could be labeled as a fault, defect, or bad habit.

Fine, I'll just say it. Hi, my name is Cris, and I am a Banana Treat Addict.

My own flesh and blood

Tonight my sister and brother-in-law arrived back in the United States after living in Mito, Japan for two years. Mark and Kelly lived like the Japanese, talked like the Japanese, and drove like the Japanese (definitely worth mentioning) for the first two years of their marriage while they worked as English teachers in elementary schools. I'm very, very excited to have them back and look forward to spending time with them before it's my turn to skip out on the U.S. for a while. It's gotta be a blood thing...

The third installment of "Introductions with Cris" is coming soon, I just don't feel writey tonight. Trust me, I'm doing it for your sake. Lest we forget what happens when I'm having an off day.

No subliminal messages here/Photo Essay Part 2

The last few days have been quite incredible. "Incredible" could be an overstatement, to which I say please provide a word that encompasses "humbling," "overwhelming," shocking," "emotional," and "blessed" all into one. You have until the end of this post to come up with an alternative.

Ever since I created the Facebook group late Sunday night I have been blown away (add that term to the above list, thanks) by the support I have received from my friends. The most shocking part of that process has been seeing where this support is coming from. I have received around 10 contributions as a direct result of the group, and most of those are from people I have not talked to in the last 6 months, some in the last year, and others in over 2 years. This is where "overwhelming" comes in. One of my biggest fears at the beginning of this process was that the people whom I asked to support me would not believe in this work as strongly as I do. Not only have I been proven dead wrong, but I believe God has used this to show me that not only do I have support, but I have support from people who are not even a part of my day to day life. Insert "blessed" and "humbled" and "emotional" here.

Now on to more introductions. These are my two teammates, Jeff and Ragan, and our tour guide extraordinairre, Sergio/Bob/Bobby. Sergio/Bob/Bobby is one person, the Brazilian-looking one in the middle. He was given his English names by the LST team of older ladies who came the summer before us. They had difficulty pronouncing his name, so they took matters into their own hands and named him Bob. Bob, a quadri-lingual university student who also teaches English on the side, embraced his new name to the point that even the other Brazilians from the church often call him Bobby. Bobby worked at a hotel, so he was immersed in the business of tourism and took it upon himself to jam-pack our days off (2 days per week) with "touristy" activities to do around Natal. In this particular picture we had just finished doing a little snorkeling. Bobby is one of the kindest, most generous people I know. He takes the call of servanthood seriously and delights in serving others. He always seemed to show up at the church building just as we were getting ready to break for lunch or dinner, ready to accompany us to the grocery store, local buffet, or just keep us company. He spent significant amounts of his free time helping us with anything and everything, and any time we commented that he didn't need to feel obligated to do so, he would stop us mid-sentence and say "it's my privilege to be with my brothers and sisters in Christ. There is nothing I would rather be doing right now." Most of my memories with Bobby involve laughing, laughing, and more laughing.


This is another of my most precious readers, Roberto. In the last post I said that when I think of Natal, Michelle and Patricia are the first two faces I see, but I would also add Roberto to that image. When I first met him, I could tell that he was very shy, very nervous, but very sweet. He usually showed up to every reading session early but sweating. I finally found out the last week we were in Natal that he was sweating because he would run to the church building from the bus stop, afraid he would be late. Roberto and I had amazing conversations about faith and what it means to follow God. He would come to the sessions uber-prepared, having read the lesson ahead of time and also having read the same passage from Luke in Portuguese to verify his comprehension of the English. He was so excited when he began doing this, telling me he had never read his own Bible so much. His hunger was very evident and I pray that it has continued. I can't wait to pick up with him where we left off!

I just realized that perhaps I should define some of LST lingo I have been using. If you know it all already, this post is over, so you can go ahead and comment, contribute, and move on to your next blog. :) Stay tuned for more introductions...

Definitions:
Reader(s): the locals in the community (not from the church) who respond to the advertisement for Let's Start Talking to practice their conversational English for free
Reading session: a 45 minute session in which the reader and worker (me) read one lesson from the Luke workbook together. Depending on what the reader chooses and what the worker's schedule allows, some readers come for a reading session every day, some come only once per week.
Luke workbook: the reading material LST provides, a simple English translation of the book of Luke bound into a workbook format. Each reader receives a workbook to keep for him/herself. Each "lesson" is a passage from Luke with a given message, or "seed thought." Each lesson also contains highlighted English vocabulary words and comprehension questions about the passage.

Photo Essay Part 1

Once again I am too jazzed to fall asleep. I'll give you one chance to guess what's keeping me awake...What else? Natal, of course! However, it occurred to me that, although I can talk about how excited I am to no end, really you, my reader(s) (the singular is probably more accurrate...) have no earthly idea of specifically what I am excited about. Allow me introduce to you what, or, rather, who, keeps me awake at night:

These are my two friends, Michelle (left) and Patricia (right). They are my Brazilian soulmates. They were the first two readers I met at the Information meeting and they instantly became like sisters to me. Michelle is more sarcastic than I am...and clearly there will be no need for further explanation for why I love her so much. :) Patricia is one of the godliest women I have ever known. She is a breast cancer survivor, single mother of three boys, owns her own business, and still manages to pour love and kindness over everyone she meets. Michelle and Patricia are the first faces I see when I think about Natal.

This is Andre. Andre lived with us at the church building and basically kept us alive for the month we were there. He taught us how to quit blowing the fuse every day, avoid running out of hot water, showed us the cheapest but most delightful neighborhood restaurants, and served as an excellent bodyguard any time we needed him (that's a joke, Mom) simply because he's oh, about 6'4. Andre and I became good friends and laughed together A LOT! He is an engineering student at the local university and teaches English. He was very interested in American slang, and would pick up on any new word or phrase he heard us use. His favorite new phrase was "I'm coughing up phlegm." My favorite phrase that we taught him was "I'm blowing up" any time his phone rang. Hahahaha...it's still hilarious to me. :) This picture was taken the last night we were in Natal, about 4 hours before we left to come home. I was a bit emotional that night (as you'll be able to tell in future pictures) so excuse my appearance please.

Look forward to a continuation of this photo essay over the next few days. I want you to know my friends and the reason why I just can't wait to be with them again. Adios!

The Most Exciting Day

In my quest to fundraise approximately $18,000 for a year's worth of missionary work, I can tell you right now that I will declare many different days The Most Exciting Day. However, you can be assured that this declaration will always, without a doubt, coincide with a jump in figures on my donation page.

It's just a fact.

Last night, at about 1:30 am, I was laying in bed, desperately trying to fall alseep but unable to rid my mind of racing thoughts surrounding my internship. It had been a while since this happened, so it was actually a welcomed, nostalgic dose of insomnia. Call me crazy, but I get the most excited when I'm losing sleep over it. :) Anyway, I've been thinking a lot lately about how best I can reach my friends to ask for support. I composed a mass email last week, but never sent it out. I knew that most of my friends, upon opening an email with oh, say 200 names in the address line, would delete it, assuming anything written to that many people must not be important. But oh, how important it is. So, I resisted as long as I could and then finally sold out, deciding to speak the language my generation knows best: Facebook.

I've created two Facebook groups in my life. The first, Chi Gamma Sub-T, was formed to poke healthy fun at the institution of social clubs on our campus. I won't go into the details of CGST, although it was wildly popular. Trust me. The second, With Your Help Cris Will Become a Missionary, I created last night, in the vain hope that my friends would join, see a precious picture of the little darling I met in Natal this summer, click on the simple link to my donation page, and begin supporting me. I invited about 350 of my closest friends to join, and by the time I woke up this morning at 9, my group already had 24 members.

By noon there were 45. By 2 there were 67. By 3:30 there were 85. Last I checked, at about 5:30, there were 96. This fact alone literally made my eyes well up with tears. I had no idea 96 people were willing to offer support, even if just emotional and prayerful, let alone join a group for it.

Now, remember what fact must coincide with a day being dubbed The Most Exciting Day? That's right, increase in monetary figures. Well. By noon I had received $10, by 4 I had received $30, and by 5 I had received a total of $130. From three people. Three people that would not even consider me one of their closer friends. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me to have the support of my friends, let alone friends I don't even speak with that often. Today has been humbling, encouraging, happy, and, of course, THE MOST EXCITING DAY!!!!

If you give a Cris a book...

Inspired by my roommate Melanie, the most avid reader in our house, I decided to catch up a bit on some pleasure reading this weekend. And, apparently, by "catch up" I mean triple the amount of books I have read in the last three or four months in a mere 20 hours.

Although back in the day I used to be able to tear through one or two Babysitter's Club: Little Sister series' books in a week, I was unsure that 1. my hunger for reading hadn't changed since I was 9 and 2. I would be able to find enough good books that would make me want read that quickly. In hindsight, my ignorance is comical.

Although Karen Brewer (the Little Sister) enchanted me as a young pup, she hadn't deceived me: I still do have the hunger, although I do an excellent job of supressing it 11 months out of the year. In the "New Arrivals" section of the Abilene library, I found three books that looked interesting enough to keep me occupied over the next three weeks until they are due back.

I promptly came home, read one in an hour, and read the second over the course of last night/this afternoon.

Hmm. Is this book-bulimia? I binge for a weekend then purge my intellect of any more stimulation of the literary-type for a few more weeks? I'll have to get back to you on that, after I see what "a few more weeks" turns out. Perhaps Mel has inspired me enough to have been cured of my reading disorder.

Anyway, allow me to share with you the first of two incredibly interesting and quasi-life-changing books which engaged me so. The first, Letter to a Christian Nation, was one I had heard of only by reading Mike Cope's blog. The author, Sam Harris, a staunch and vocal atheist, wrote this as a response to the responses he received after his first book, The End of Faith, was published. It is composed as a letter to your average Joe Christian living in the United States, arguing all of the reasons that faith in God, any god, actually, is ludicrous. I assumed that anyone who writes a book like this would write very intelligently, very compellingly, and very convincingly, almost to the point at which I would struggle not to agree. This alone got me excited to read what Harris had to say. I welcome intelligent oppositions to what I think/believe/feel, because they encourage me challenge and work harder to legitimize what I think/believe/feel and make those thoughts/beliefs/feelings more authentic (either way).

Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that, though some of Harris's arguments are piercingly legitimate and should make Christians think twice about the way we handle ourselves with respect to the rest of the world, he came across more as a child trying to argue why his dad could beat up my dad while we chewed on popsicles in a schoolyard.

Not exaggerating. Read here if you want some excerpts and responses to the book on a very well-read preacher's blog, but for now I'll spare you the specifics of what I really thought about his argument. Do I recommend it? That depends.

Yes, but only if you are in the mood to seriously contemplate (in a good way) the Why of your faith. No, however, if you're only looking for someone new to hate for persecuting Christians. Harris doesn't need any more hate mail citing chapter and verse of why he will spend eternity burning in hell. I recommend the book if you are capable of reading with a prayerfully open heart and mind, prepared to see the validity in some of the points he has to make.

Do I still believe in God? Yes. Do I still believe Jesus is the Son of God? Yes. Do I still want to be a missionary for the next two years of my life? Yes. Do I still want you to support me? Yes. Is my faith stronger after reading this book? Yes. Do I hope that Harris has a Saul/Paul conversion one day? Yes. Do I still hope that subliminal messages work? Let's hope so. :)

Ooooh man I apologize for the whiney tone of that last post. I actually intended more of a sarcastic sound, but after reading it I realize it just sounded like I was complaining. Perhaps I was. :)

God definitely worked through some incredible ways this past week with my LST internship fundraising. I learned a tremendous lesson (as always) and learned once again that I can't box him in to the little mold I have for him. He is always, always faithful. And even when I'm pretty sure He's done being faithful, and I give him an out to peace out on me, he just doesn't leave! I am so thankful for a God who doesn't ever forget about me and takes the time to remind me of it.

Spring break was absolutely delightful. Seeing Molly, my roommate from freshman and sophomore year, was the highlight of the semester. There we are up there ^^ just laying around on the floor, you know. I also developed a new appreciation for the San Antonio area. I had no idea it was so pretty! I've always said Austin is the only place in Texas I would voluntarily choose to live, but folks you can now add San Antonio to that list.

This post is so lame. Sorry.

Cris-orama?

WHY is it that when I go to create my new boring email address, cris.carpenter at gmail.com, it has already been taken? And WHY does Google suggest alternatives such as cris.carpenterorama, cris.carpenterernator, or cris.carpenterster? Am I 7? And am I a sleaze? These are questions that plague me in the internet world. I guess the two major league baseball players with whom I share my name have already taken the simple, straightforward email domains. Or the Cris Carpenter with whom I'm friends on Facebook. I guess it's back to the drawing board. Any new suggestions? I may just have to resort to the even more boring cris.m.carpenter. How do we feel about that?

At least it's not cRiScHiCkACU2007pie@gmail.com. :)

Shamed...?

What word is in between shameless and shameful? There has to be one. Shameless implies reckless disregard to tact and modesty, whereas shameful implies embarrassment and/or a plea for attention to be diverted elsewhere. I don't think it can be shamed, because that's more of a verb than an adjective; a verb that makes me uncomfortable, mind you.

Anyway, I want to know what's in the middle because in my fundraising efforts I sit upon this unknown word. I am not shameful, because I believe so strongly in LST and the work that I will be doing and I know there are people who want to help support me, but I am not shameless in that I try to be very mindful of the fact that people have worked hard for their money and have mouths to feed and that fact alone makes me feel uncomfortable asking for it.

You will notice that I posted the link to my donation page over there >>, but I also posted a link to SearchKindly.org, (an excellent search engine that raises money for a different non-profit each month while yielding Google's search results) as well as a clock to tell you the current time in Natal, and a counter, perhaps because I'm vain about my blog and want to know how many have visited despite the lack of comments. You could say I shamefully cluttered the sidebar in order to not call attention to the link, but that I am now shamelessly devoting an entire post to my fundraising efforts. I'm such a little paradox.

My fundraising efforts for my internship in Brazil pose this problem: even though I feel ____ (this word I can't put my finger on) about my fundraising, what's the next step? Do I email my friends with the link to my donation page and ask for their help? Do I ask if their parents might be interested in supporting my internship, even if they don't know me? Do I ask the wonderful people who have already contributed so much if they could give again?

I don't want to send the wrong impression here: my fundraising has already gone extremely well and I couldn't be more thankful for the generosity and support that I already feel so strongly. God has shown me several times already that He is faithful and will continue to bless me throughout this preparation process. I have received encouragement in the strangest ways and in the most conventional ways. However, there is still more money to be pledged in order for me to be able to begin the internship in September. I've already learned so many lessons in the three short months I have been fundraising, and my prayer is that it will continue to be a learning and growing process for me.

And, if you have any ideas on how to get people to give me money, send 'em my way. :)

Hey, look at me! Two posts in three days.

I need your help. As I prepare to leave this place we call college, or Abilene, or ACU, or the armpit of Texas (which, by the way, I do not agree with) I need to prepare for my life post-college. My preparations include many different elements, but one of them is how I will remain in contact with my friends and family. Hopefully, this blog will begin to serve as as a major source of contact for you to stay updated on my life in Natal, though I do need to build a stronger readership, because I'm pretty sure I'm writing to NO ONE right now. A major part of staying connected is acquiring a new name that will end in gmail.com rather than acu.edu. That's right, folks, I'm in the "get a new email" phase of my preparations. Come May 12, when I graduate, no longer will I (or ACU, eventually) allow cmc02f to serve me. This is where you come in. Any suggestions on what my new email address should be?

To save you some time, these are out:

• any name pertaining to ACU (Wildcat, ACU, Purple, Judge Ely, Westheimer, etc)
• any name including the word "girl" (ACUgirl, Brazilgirl, Crisgirl, etc)
• any name including the word "chick" (ACUchick, Brazilchick, Crischick, etc)
  
• anything including numbers (Cris2007, cris1985, Cris5, etc)
• anything including interests (LipGlossGirl7, ILoveCats1985, White01XTerra)

I will now be accepting suggestions. FYI, I like the way my first and middle name, Cristina Michelle, sound together.

GO! (And thank you.)

Let's face it...

If I played the Justin Scott "name that song that's the title of my post" game you could bust out the old but trusty Mighty Mighty Bosstones' album and win my contest. Too bad for you that I don't play that game, but I have an entirely newfound respect for you if you 1) know who the MMB even were and 2) knew them well enough to know that "Let's Face It" was the title of the album as well as one of the songs.

What I really wanted to say is: Let's face it. I am a terrible blogger. I've been a member of this little site for over a year now and have what seems to be less than 10 posts to show for it. It's not that I don't have anything to say...because we all know THAT'S not true...but I just can't seem to find enough things to write about on a consistent basis that will impress you. Because I want to impress you, despite what my previous post (note the date...) says.

However, with my upcoming move to Natal, Brazil I would like to be in the habit of blogging by the time I arrive in order to continue the habit to keep my friends and supporters informed on my LST internship there. (Shameless plug: if you or your parents or your friends are interested in helping contribute toward my support, PLEASE let me know. I'm posting the link as soon as I post this entry.) It hit me on Friday, March 2, that exactly 6 months from Saturday, March 3, I would be on a plane, headed to spend my year(s) in Natal. Now, while I am very, very, VERY excited, realizing it was a mere 6 months away gave me one of those deep, awkward feelings in the pit of my belly, the kind of feeling that tells me I wish it was tomorrow and I wish it would never come, all at the same time. Don't let this alarm you (especially if you were seriously considering a contribution,) because it's a good feeling. A very, very good one. It's the same feeling you get when you have been on an airplane for the last 3/6/8/14 hours, on your way to an exciting vacation or an exciting visit with family and the plane ride has gotten monotonous and miserable until the exact second the pilot tells you they have begun the descent and then all you can think about is the person you are about to see or the new place you are about to explore or how good it will feel to use the restroom in an area larger than 2 square feet.

THAT feeling.

On an entirely unrelated note, I find it curious how much I love using parentheses. I feel like parenthetical interjections are how my writing becomes a conversation with you. Leave a comment so it can feel more real. :)

Time to brush my teeth

I told a friend tonight that I've been spending most of my time alone lately and that it's changing my perspective on a lot of things. I don't know if I said it because it's true or if I said it because I am trying to get accustomed to the fact that it might be true, but nonetheless I know I've been spending a significant time by myself lately and it definitely has altered my perceptions. I've spent so long, more than just these past years at ACU, always trying to be at the right place at the right time with the right people doing the most fun thing I could be doing at that very moment. The age of cell phones has gotten us out of making plans and sticking to them and carried us into an age of calling around until we find the best option. Anyway, my friend responded that spending most of your time alone is the best thing to do. I don't know that I agree, but I do know that, although I definitely have benefitted and grown from community, I think my leaps-and-bounds kind of growth comes from the times when I hang out with just me. I quit trying to impress myself about a year ago and so it's become rather refreshing to be able to be myself with myself and my thoughts and really get where I'm trying to go without an ego or false self perception getting in the way. I'm working towards the point where I'm no longer trying to impress anyone else, either, and though I'm getting remarkably close let's be real, I'm a 21 year old female. So I just started this book called Two Views on Women in Ministry for a class I'm in and it's making me realize that I have very strong beliefs and very strong opinions and rarely do I have anything concrete to back up those beliefs and opinions. Don't get me wrong, I can straight fool you into thinking that I do have solid research and conviction to back it up, but really all I have done is stolen someone else's conviction and plagiarized it as my own. Perhaps plagiarized is a strong term, but as I read this book that's how I feel. It's a good feeling, though, because it makes me want to study and learn more about why I think I believe what I do. Recently I have had this hunger for the Word that I have never before had in my life. A hunger for the Word has now replaced what used to be a hunger for a hunger for the Word. Now I've skipped the guilt and gone straight to seeking answers to questions, rather than wishing I had the desire to seek answers to questions. Get it? Doesn't matter. This post has lots of tangents and few readers. Time to brush my teeth.

I'm back...

My favorite days are characterized by one very specific quality. It doesn't really matter the day of the week (though I tend to like Thursdays...) or the time of year (although nice weather does put me in the best of moods...) or who I spend time with (well, who am I kidding...that actually affects my choice of favorite days quite strongly.) My favorite days are actually the ones in which I realize how hysterical of a sense of humor God has. Some people resent the image of God as a puppet-master, but I tend to be drawn to it for this very reason. I appreciate and fully attribute those funny little situations that I learn from and am humbled (see next paragraph) by to God's supreme sense of humor. I hope it's not disrespectful to view God in this way, because for me it draws me closer to Him and helps me to relate to His loving nature.

Example of the day: tonight as I was studying for a midterm in my Women in Christian Service class (taught by Jeanene Reese, my hero, but THAT is another blog...) I was reading about spiritual disciplines and spiritual giftedness, the purpose for their practice, etc. I became inspired to really embrace the study of spiritual disciplines and to further study spiritual gifts. The discipline of Simplicity has been tugging at my heart recently and the gift of discernment has been weighing on my heart, so I marched my little self up the stairs to the new Theological Reading Room in our library and found three books related to these particular topics. As I walked out among the Theology grad students, the Spiritual of the spiritual, I was feeling rather intelligent and rather spiritual and rather wise with my three books tucked under my arm. I made my way to the check-out counter so I could get home to begin reading up on my newly-found passion. I assumed the girl at the counter would probably be pretty impressed, too, when she saw the subject matter and that I was checking out three of them...until I heard this:
Girl: "Um...you have a $5 fine on your account."
Me: "Really? Oh...well does that have to be paid before I can check these out?"
Girl: "Yeah...you have to get it below $3."
Me: (annoyed, because I need to get home to start increasing my spirituality) "Ok...well, what is it even for?"
Girl: "Sex and the City DVDs."

Simplicity? Discernment?
Got it. :)

Reflections from the Road/Spring Break

1. Texas drivers are the worst drivers in the country. In the country. (I would say world, but I've been to Brazil...).

• If you are from Texas and this statement offends you, you are probably one of them.
  
• If you are not from Texas and this statement offends you, that's just weird.
  
• If you are from Texas and you think "Well, maybe, but I'm not one of them," there is an excellent chance you are wrong, and until an out-of-stater deems you correct your opinion does not count.
  
• If you are from Texas, you agree, and this statement does not offend you because it is true, you are probably not a "Texas driver." You are probably an exception, and that is an honorable title.
  

2. In a related story, I suffer from an extreme, but controlled, amount of road rage. If you have ridden with me you probably already know this. I tend to have conversations with my fellow drivers on the road. Comment of the day: "You suck at driving...and probably at life." I should ask forgiveness for that one...

3. My parents think "The Office" is absolutely hilarious. This strangely impressed me. I say "strangely" because either a) they're much cooler than they used to be or, b) they were always this cool I just refused to accept it. Something tells me it's probably the latter.

4. "Teenage Wasteland" has one of the best intros I have ever heard in a song. Thank you to Dr. Greg House for introducing me to this precious tidbit of information.

5. If he had been born 10 years earlier, Jesse McCartney would have enjoyed a very successful career with the Backstreet Boys. Maybe he and Aaron Carter can team up. They look like the same person anyways.

6. I consumed at least my body weight, possibly more, in strawberries this week. Ain't nothin wrong with that...

7. There are too many white trucks in Texas. On the Texas-half of my drive back to Abilene, every single vehicle I found myself behind was a white truck. Coincidentally, every vehicle I passed was also a white truck. Refer to point #1. If you live in Texas and have a white truck, paint it. White is boring. (Yes, I realize that Xavier is white. Although I love her, I wish she was green.)

8. Gas is too expensive. And with no good reason. Gas should be free. And water should be free. Actually, cars should run on water. And it should be free. Smart people, get on that.

9. Selling CDs back for cash, especially in the age of iPods, is an extremely lucrative business. Say hello to 28 dollars and say goodbye to Celine Dion. They didn't, however, accept my Creed cds or Backstreet Boys. Can you blame them? Insert embarrassed face here -->___.

10. I continue to hear from new people every time that the Coldplay concert was the best concert they've ever been to. Lucky for me I agree.

11. I don't hate the rain, but I hate driving in the rain. HATE it. Absolutely nothing good comes from long roadtrips in heavy rain. (Well, except that I don't have to give Xavier the traditional post-roadtrip bath. Ok, so one teeny tiny barely significant good thing comes from roadtrips in the rain.)

12. "Dookie" by Green Day is still one of the greatest albums of all time. Definitely on my Deserted Island list. "Nimrod" isn't too bad, either.

13. The more and more I go home, the more and more it isn't home anymore.

14. I hate the feeling of loneliness. I am codependent upon companionship. That's better than being codependent on alcohol...right?

15. Telling people you love them is important. Utilizing the numbers in your cell's phone book is necessary. If you think about someone, even for a second, whom you haven't talked to in a long time, call them up and tell them so. Chances are they won't think you're weird, like you might fear, and instead you will make their day. It's a shame that you have to go through losing someone to be reminded of that. Don't be scared to let someone know that they are appreciated.

16. Like my sister said, it's hard to accept when someone dies. Even if the chance that you would have seen that person again or even talked to them any time soon was slim, it's still comforting to know that he or she was still existing out there somewhere, doing good for someone. Please refer to #15 here and then do something about it. Carrie, we take comfort in the fact that your legacy, your incredible sense of humor, your joyful spirit, and your profound gift of friendship, will continue to do good for all of the people who passed through your life for a long, long time. You are unforgettable.