Dead week

Dead week = death week = I'm dying = help me

But really. I'm taking my finals early this year to Summit Ministries for a worldview camp, and I just might kill myself in the process of it all. Tests, projects, quizzes AND finals all in one week. 

I only have four days left. 

I can do this. 

And I can draw pictures instead of write papers like I'm supposed to. :)

If you haven't read The Little Prince, I highly recommend it. It's thought-provoking, for sure. 

Writing

I have an 8-10 page paper due in 11 hours and all I want to do is write.
I don't want to write more about Biblical manhood and womanhood even though I love this topic and all the things I have been learning about it.

I want to write my heart.
I want to write my heartbreak.
I want to write my feelings of utter joy for my cousin and his fiancee.
I want to write about my family.
I want to write about my thoughts.
I want to write about my upcoming trip.


But now is not the time.
I must do what I am responsible for and write what I must.

(boo)

Grandparents

I had lunch with my grandpa on Sunday, and he gave me a birthday card that day. I had it in my purse, and I just opened it last night (it's been crazy around here). The card itself was very sweet, and grandpa's added emphasis through underlined and bracketed words made me smile. But I was not ready for the rest of it. He told me how proud he was of me as a person, and then signed it. 

But he didn't just sign it for himself. 

He signed it for Grandma Jean and Papa John and Grandma Suzie, too. 

Grandpa Bob is my only grandparent who is alive today. Both of my dad's parents have passed away and so has my mom's mom. They all died within a two year span of each other - I was barely old enough to really know what was going on. I just remember being in and around hospitals a lot. My grandparents were all lovely people. The few memories I do have of them are all happy ones. They loved their grandchildren so very much, and I remember their love most of all. 

When I saw all of their names written at the bottom of the card, tears came to my eyes. My sweet grandpa. He loves me with the weight of four grandparents, not just one. 

I do wish that I could know my grandparents who have passed away. I want them to be able to see all of their grandchildren and great grandchildren. I want them to tell me stories about their lives. I want to learn from them and hug them and love them. 

Regardless of how much I miss them, I am overwhelmed with Grandpa Bob's thoughtfulness and love. I am so grateful to this man for continually bringing my family together and loving us all so much. He is a huge blessing in my life, and I love him more than I could ever say. 

Beautiful

I have been called beautiful by four strangers/almost strangers since Tuesday. 

(Before you think this is going to be a totally self-absorbed post, I'll promise you it gets better.)

As any girl can tell you, being called beautiful makes you really *feel* beautiful. It's a wonderful thing to feel beautiful, to feel feminine. I don't know if this is the case for everyone, but I think it makes other things seem beautiful too. 

Now, let's talk for a moment about what "beautiful" is. Every time I've been called beautiful this week, it's when I've been engaging someone wholeheartedly in conversation or serving them. That is what's beautiful to people - seeing other people as humans and loving them. It's not just a pretty face or a good hair day, it's love. Raw love. The kind of love that doesn't rest on infatuation or feelings, but on considering someone else more important than yourself and taking joy in that. Sometimes (actually, a lot of the time), that's not easy or fun, but it is beautiful. That beauty doesn't come from us, though. It can't.  We are naturally sinful, selfish people, and that is not beautiful. Where does beauty come from, then? It comes from Christ. Christ loved people so much that he died to make them alive and reconcile them with God. That is the most beautiful thing I know. When we love other people, we reflect this beauty of Christ, and that's what makes us beautiful. 

That being said, I want to tell people more often that they are beautiful. I don't want to say it just when their clothes look cute or their hair is perfect, I want to say it when they've spent all day on their hands and knees, scrubbing someone's floor; when they're wiping the sweat from their forehead after planting flowers in someone else's garden; when they've just had a conversation with the old woman sitting alone. Those actions are far more beautiful than any outward appearance could ever be because they reflect Christ.

Again.

Well, here's day two. I seriously need something to do or else I'm going to go crazy. 

That's the end, hopefully for a while. I'm tired of being sick and cooped up at home. 

Illustrations

Today I am sick, but I have made myself feel a little bit better by illustrating me and what I've been doing. With hashtags. Because sarcastic hashtags make me laugh. 

I may be the only one who enjoys all of these, but hey. That was the point. 

I branched out from hashtags because not everything can be held in hashtags.

Also, this was my sad realization after this whole process: 

The end. 

Snow days = time

Snow days are blissful days. Planned breaks are great and all, but there's always something do to or somewhere to be. Snow days make you stop and enjoy. That's a delight. 

My first semester of my junior year is going to be over in two weeks. I have three semesters of highschool left. (!!!) This semester has been crazy busy and fun and surprisingly wonderful in ways I wouldn't have expected. Once again, God's plans are not my plans, and I'm so grateful for that. He's much better at being God than I am (imagine that!). I'm not really sure that I can summarize my whole semester, so I'll try to summarize a few things. 

Being involved with the John 3:16 Mission this semester has been a huge blessing to me. Mom and I go Wednesday afternoons to the Family and Youth Center to help kids with their homework in the after school program. We get to work with the K-4th graders, and it's been amazing to see them improve in their reading, math, and concentration abilities. Even though we're just there to help with homework, I've been overwhelmed with these kid's need for the love of Christ. A conversation a few weeks ago provided a blatant example of this... Mom was helping D with his homework and D wasn't paying much attention to her. He asked her, "Is that girl your daughter?" Mom told him I was. He asked, "Do you beat her?" Mom, quite taken aback, said no, she didn't. D then asked her, "Then what do you do when she gets in trouble?" Oh, that breaks my heart. These kids don't know how telling their questions are. D's home life is not good, and I see that spilling over into his schoolwork and how he handles it. He's a second grader, and he still doesn't know how to read. He knows he's behind, and that makes him angry. The only way he's seen anger dealt with in his home is through physical means. I want to help him and teach him how to read, but my influence only goes so far when he's surrounded by abuse at home. D needs the love of God the Father more than he needs to know how to read. I'm very thankful to see kids at the Mission who do well in their work. I recognized a few kids from volunteering in the green class this summer, and it warmed my heart to see them recognize me. Little J is my favorite. I know I probably shouldn't pick favorites, but J is just so wonderful I can't help but love him. One day we were doing homework outside. After the boys were finished, they played football with Pastor Bryan. J was coloring instead. He's an introspective child, and it's so rare to see that in a second grader, especially the second graders there. He also asks some of the best questions while I'm helping him with homework. We read a story about volcanoes, and he asked how volcanoes worked. We were coloring and he asked why pencils would be erased but crayons couldn't. He's a thinker. I like that kid. 

College preparations are slowly but surely weaving their way into my lists of things to do. A year ago, if you had asked me what I wanted to do in college, I would have told you I didn't want to go (a lot of things were different this time last year). This year, I've realized what I want to do, and now I'm so excited about college because it means the actualization of a dream. I want to be a midwife. I've always loved babies, and even when I wanted to be a single vet with thirty dogs, the miracle of pregnancy amazed me (just more so in dogs than humans). People have warned me that labor and birth are not as beautifully miraculous as they seem in televised versions, but I am fully aware of that and I know that gross things don't gross me out. I can't wait to be able to be involved with the life of the mother expecting a new baby and aid in the process of bringing that baby into the world. What a job! And what gospel opportunities! The prospect of being a midwife makes me so excited. 

I've realized a lot this semester about learning. The learning I'm considering isn't book learning, but experiential learning. This summer provided many lessons for me, and my parents had to teach them to me over and over and over and over again until I finally realized them. I thank God for my parents continual patience with me. I'm pretty darn hard-headed, and when I make a decision for myself, I stick to it, often times despite the wise counsel I've been given. I'm thankful that they didn't tire of telling me the truth. I'm also very glad that now that I've realized their wisdom, I want to apply it to my life. That's the grace of God right there. As I just said, I tend to want to be independent, but it's very good for me to learn to submit to them and trust their counsel above my own. Guess what? They really love me and they want the best for me! They're not trying to take away joy, they want my joy to be complete. I love them so much, and I'm so glad they want me to love God most. 

This past weekend was Thanksgiving break. Laura came home, Adam and Erica and Ford came back, Robert and Sally came over.... The Rusco clan was back together. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my siblings? I really love all of them (and their spouses and babies). It's interesting to look back at how my relationship with all of them has changed. Forever, I was the baby and the littlest sister, but over the past couple of years, the age difference has become less of a factor. I love being able to talk with them about things that interest us all. They're a ton of fun to be around.

I could write about so many other things, but I've already written enough for one post. Perhaps another will follow tomorrow... Perhaps not. It is bedlam after all, and I know we'll be watching it from the warm comfort of our couch here in the Rusco household. 

Till next time, folks.