Dear King of Kings,

You were so awesome today.

Well, You are every day, I suppose. But today I could see it all over the place! Let's start with 9:30am. I interviewed with a guy in a brown checkered jacket in a booth at the 610 Panera Bread.

He was a representative from Stanford University admissions. And....wow. Everything that I was worried about? Yeah, You took over the spirit of that interviewer, and suddenly it was You sitting across from me in that booth, telling me not to worry because You had it covered.

The best part, though(aside from the part where he said money would never be an obstacle I needed to worry about with Stanford, which was a huge burden lifted), was when he looked at me towards the end of our conversation and told me about how he felt like the "mistake" when he was accepted. And then he said,

"If you are fortunate enough to get into Stanford, consider yourself very lucky. And if you don't, consider yourself simply unlucky. It has nothing to do with your worth, or whether or not you "deserve" to be there. Because let me just tell you, and you tell your parents this as well. You are worthy. To be there. You deserve to be there, and whether or not you get in won't affect that. It's simply the luck of the draw."

I almost burst into tears. You were right there in that booth. I could feel it. It was amazing.

The rest of the day involved surprisingly easy homework, amazing worship at church, a delicious lunch, a letter, and wonderful fellowship in cars and restaurants and other such venues.

But to hear You tell me through the man in the brown checkered jacket, that I was worthy...
...was simply the most incredible and unexpected gift.

So I need to take a minute to thank You for it.

Wow, You're so wonderful. I can't even fathom it sometimes.

Continuing to praise,
Abby

Dear Wizard of the Strings,

I have a feeling I'm about to start enjoying your company more than the others.

Cobalt and I hardly talk at all anymore. Burgundy interacts with me, but of course we can't hang out or anything. The other Wizard is similarly occupied, in addition to the fact that he's become a supreme jerk incredibly sarcastic to me.

And then there's you.

In the circle of all of them, you and I are the only ones who aren't glued to a significant other. Yes, I have one, but he's not around when I'm with this particular clan. So I have no one to drink Arnold Palmers and stand around discussing obscure music with.

Thank goodness you're still around to do those things.

And don't worry. You'll find someone. People like you always do.

Fair Warning

I am practically bursting with the best feelings of truth and love and everything that always comes when I go to youth retreats.

4 days is perfect. Because I'm exactly at the point where I'm ready to go home and live it all out.

For those of you in my life at this time: brace yourselves for hardcore Me.

For any non-Christian blog readers I might have: get ready to be annoyed with me. Or intrigued. I'm just going to go back through all my notes because some of this stuff is too important and meaningful not to talk about.

I mean, the level to which specific people just kept coming to mind during every service was astounding.

So just... get ready guys.

Living Among the Worldly, Myself Included

Living in a den of thieves

and it's contagious...

...I think I need youth group.

Can that happen again, please?

I just hate being around disgusting teenagers every day.

Not that I'm an exception. 

But still. 

It gets exhausting.

"Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary."

-Galatians 6:9 

Something I Could Use

This weekend was seriously the best. I know I've said this multiple times. But it was. And this picture kind of sums it all up.

In fact, this picture says a lot.

Go ahead and take a second look. 

Stars and Freezing Feet

I can with confidence say that missing homecoming for this weekend was one of the better decisions of my life.

It wasn't just the fact that the place was like an overload of the most perfect-looking, brilliantly-colored, trance-inducing trees and mountains and air EVER.

Or the zipline going at car-speeds into a freezing lake.

Or the hugest sky you've ever seen completely and utterly filled with stars, just for staring at for twenty minutes at night while you bask in God.

Or the hot, sweaty, energy-filled, screaming worship sessions that literally cost you your vocal chords by the end of 3 days.

Or the laughing, smiling, most amazing and connectable people you've ever met and can't believe you haven't met before. 

It was all of it together.

I loved every minute. 

The pounding on the tables as the food was brought out at every meal. The jumping up and down as we belted Bon Jovi whether or not we knew all the words, and then clinging to each other's shoulders and swaying back and forth to Tenth Avenue North the next moment. 

The hysteric screaming as we plunged into the freezing lake at midnight, only to dash madly right back to the hot tub to thaw and start a dance circle right there and then. 

The masses of people who stood up to receive Jesus, and the completely unexpected tears that came when I heard all my new friends profess that they had turned a corner.

Everything. 

I'm sad it's over. 

But summer camp will be epic.

Please don't fight these hands that are holding you....

Dear God,

I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry that I always want to turn everything into a movie where it's all about me. 

I'm sorry that I let the enemy tell me lies about all the people that don't love me when in reality, they do. 

A lot.

I'm sorry that I think about boys too much.

I'm sorry that I wimped out on the book of Joshua this week, because it's an amazing book. 

I'm sorry I don't listen to You as much as I talk AT You.

Same for the way I talk at my parents. 

I'm sorry I don't let myself trust that you'll still be there in Virginia. 

I'm sorry that I refuse to believe you'll give me joy there.

I'm sorry that I dwell on the lack of youth group and drama friends and not enough on family in the states and new opportunities to serve and make friends.

I'm sorry for inwardly grumbling about not having clothes for the Cambodia trip instead of letting you fulfill me. 

I'm sorry for acting too sorry, when really I just want other people to feel sorry. You know what I mean, so it's okay that this makes no sense. 

Thank you so much. 

I love you. 

-Abby

A Faraway Land

Anticipation.

That feeling when your muscles are tensed, you lean forward, you wait for the signal that means you can go. You listen and wait and inwardly reel with giddy glee at what you know and expect and desperately hope will happen.

That's what I feel now. On the eve of my first huge youth retreat since middle school. As such, all of my retreat memories are packed into one weekend of pouring rain and screaming middle schoolers. And yet it was the most glorious weekend in the world. I smile just remembering all the laughs and incredulous whoops of glee.

And all I can do now is wait.

And pack clothes.

And charge cameras and ipods.

And paint my nails.

And twist fabric strips into bracelets for my team, most of whom I've never met.

And wait.

SO EXCITED!

The Best Day

Among other things, this is what is now causing, even now, the joy bubbling up inside me.

For once, I liked what I saw in the mirror this morning.

The comments I made in Honors Lit were said to be "well-spoken."

Lunchtime harvested the first AG-35 group on a while with dear old Bailey and Allison.

In history, someone tumblr-famous referenced a quote from an old tumblr post of mine from at least a month ago. I almost died at the prospect that humans read the musings I upchuck into cyberspace.

Despite my fears of going hungry after school, Ms. Deakins gave me an orange, which was so deliciously awe-inspiring it shall be blogged about later.

Refuge Cafe was, as always, a refuge. During an adrenaline-pumping game of 3-hit kill, I felt, as always, that maybe I wasn't as weak and lame as I so often seem.

The pummeling hit to my right cheekbone via Thor's soccer ball-throwing abilities earned me man points, a piggyback ride, and a hug from one very sweet baseball player.

Bailey and I went outside, in keeping with tradition, to the parking lot, as it poured rain. We swapped stories and spun gleefully. Afterwards, I flung open the door to the cafe, sopping wet and grinning from ear to ear.

After all that, all I have is to smile in my sleep and wonder why God chose to bestow upon me such a gift.

Oh, and also...

YOLO.

The Ultimate Prize

Joy.

Such an infinite, wonderful thing.

And it's even better. Because I hold a small role in creating some of it in recent days. I am a proverbial stockholder in the profits of what I believe will be a wonderous, beautiful thing. 

It's exciting. 

And after a night of the usual joyful romping at Common Ground, I am, as always newly energized and equipped to radiate said joy to...to...

who knows?

And yet, part of me must hold this joy in. Guard it. Keep it hidden away where only a precious few will know the full extent of it. Even now, I wonder if I've said too much. 

Because the heart is the wellspring of life. And that's a precious thing to have.  

And so I offer a challenge to anyone who may wonder or care.

Who is worthy? 

Who is willing to fight, to climb to the top of this magnificent tree and claim the glorious prize? It's not just there for anyone to take and sample. It's something that must be strategized, pondered over and finally conquered. Which finally begs the ultimate question:

Am I worth it?

More Adventures With Expresso Machines

Just realized that this will be 2 posts in a row dealing with my endeavors making coffee. Ah well, the more the merrier.

3 hours working the cafe was not enough. It actually got more crowded than I expected, what with drama friends coming in, and a couple parents, and even (best part) my friends Aaron and Michael, which caused me to inwardly jump for ecstatic joy because they realized how AWESOME it was, and now they'll tell their friends, and they'll all start coming more, and...and...*sigh*. I feel so proud of everyone.

I was sort of worried that Calen and I would be the only people there. That there'd be a lot of awkward silence, and he wouldn't want to talk to me, and that he'd wish that someone else had signed up to work instead of me, because I was so boring and...underclassman.
Then I spilled milk or something and he pretended to be mad, and shoved a spoonful of frothy milk on my nose.
So much for silence. It was on. 


Of course I got him back, which sparked all kinds of empty complaints about his nose being sticky, and arguments about the correct way to spit like a man, and running times, and what would happen to me if I touched his hair.........

You get the idea.

It was the greatest possible end to my week. 

Kind of proud of myself for seeing this on the tea bag. Describes my cafe experience. :)

Conquering My Fears of Steamed Milk

I don't think people fully appreciate how dangerous expresso machines can be.

While in training today at the youth group cafe, I had to brave the scalding metal and bubbling steam. After a few fail attempts (I used the wrong filter and created ultra caffeinated shots, the nozzle made shrieking sounds when I used it, etc.), I finally mastered the art of frothy steamed milk. Soon I was cracking out lattes and feeling pretty awesome.

 I also would like to add that I am never, EVER going back to Starbucks' chai lattes.


It was also nice to exchange witty banter with people while pretending to wipe the countertops, racking my brain for something football-related to throw out at the right moment while also looking like I wasn't desperate for conversation, as well as resisting the urge to fix my bangs.
It's an art.

And now, belly full of chai and the sweet taste of victory, I shall retire to my beckoning bed.

Injuries, Alaska, and Christmas

Today has been a success, I should think. Nothing truly significant happened. I didn't have my first kiss or break a bone. I flew around the exchange looking for Christmas presents for friends. Went home. Wrapped said presents. Performed surgery on a stuffed animal. (It was for a present! Don't ask.) Cleaned the shreds of ribbon, wrapping paper, and stuffing off my floor. Went to youth group.

Ah, youth group. 


Stood outside in the frigid weather discussing Alaskan natives, theme parks, and NFL football. When I say frigid, I mean 59 degrees. Give or take. Ate lasagna and got dragged around in a warped version of amoeba tag combined with musical chairs. Sat with the underclassmen girls and discussed life. Watched guys hurt each other in the most brutal and hilarious ways imaginable. Tried to stay out of the way. Rode home with my other mother-she's Korean. :)

You can't tell me that's not a successful day.

I have a color-coordinated stack of presents to give sitting in my room. My head is full of thoughts about Alaska and ice-skating. I have 6 hours before I get to wake at the ungodly hour of 4:00 am to go sit around a bunch of Marines and watch them scream like little girls at the Army/Navy football game.

GO NAVY BEAT ARMY. :D