Awkward Photo Saturday

These are my best friends:

We don't get to see each other too often because we all go to different colleges and live in different cities. But when we all come together, it's a party. Thanksgiving break shenanigans:

Giving Thanks

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good! His faithful love endures forever. Psalm 107:1

What does it mean to really give thanks? I've been questioning my own thankfulness for quite some time, and today seems like the most appropriate day to share my thoughts.

Sure, before I eat or drink anything, I'll thank the Lord for it. But is a four-second pause really giving genuine thanks? And sure, I say "thank you" to anyone and everyone who so much as holds the door for me. But is a polite habit really sufficient? I'll be the first to admit at times it's hardly heartfelt.

How many times throughout the day do we say "thanks" aloud? For me, probably about thirty times. How many times throughout the day do we truly feel grateful? For me, probably once or twice. Maybe. My dad pours me a glass of water, my roommate brings me my forgotten key, my friend helps me with homework, my professor blesses me after a sneeze, the smiley lady scans my meal card in the dining hall.  All these actions are thoughtful, but I've but little thought into my thanks.

As for the "big things," like a healthy family, some promising opportunities, a mathematical intuition, plentiful sanitary water, salvation... I have God to thank. My quick prayers never seem enough. Even when I make an extra effort to not be half-hearted, I realize I'm probably still actually half-hearted. It feels like when you suddenly become aware of your own breathing.  He is the great Provider, the I AM, and all I can do is habitually let the words "Thanks Jesus, you're a pal," pass through my head. How can anyone really be sure that their words and their heart are really connected? How can I know if I'm really thankful, or if it's all a self-preserving act, all in my head?

Actions.

Giving thanks, I'm sure, is really giving of yourself. Giving time, giving resources, giving pride. I don't need all that I have. Saying "Thank you, Jesus," can only really be heartfelt if the connected thought is, "I am so glad I've been blessed with this. I'll go share it with my neighbor."

So go. Be thankful for your family and invite someone into your home. Be thankful for your education and donate some school supplies.  Be thankful for clean water and help build a foundation in Africa. Be thankful for the cafeteria lady and ask her about her day.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Naturally Awkward

Happy Awkward Photo Saturday.

Do you smile for pictures without showing your teeth? Well, I've got some news for you:
You're not actually smiling. You're contorting your face into an unnatural position, and it's awkward. 

Got no teeth.

Beverly Saves the Day

Exactly one year ago, I bought a guitar. At first I named her Phoebe. Way too trendy. Next, her name was Anita, but that was taken advantage of by too many terrible puns. I thought I settled on Beverly, but after spending some quality time together, it was clear that her epic personality could not be contained in merely one word. She deserves a full sentence. Her name is Beverly Saves the Day.

For short, you can still just call her Beverly.

November 13, 2010. Storytime:

I felt like such a grown up. Having saved up a few paychecks and done some research, I dragged my friend Steven into Guitar Center with me. Well, he drove, so it couldn't have been entirely against his will. I'd never been in a music store larger than the local Ken Stanton or Music Matters shops in Roswell. Guitar Center was entirely too overwhelming. Elementary school children banging on drum sets, middle aged men plugging into enormous amps, and ponytailed employees ignoring me. It was seriously out of a movie.
We went into the back room with walls lined with acoustic guitars. I mean, it was awesome. At least 200 different guitars are out. We spent over an hour searching and comparing, but we finally found Beverly. One of the ponytail men put new strings on her, stuck her in a case, and swiped my credit card. We were on out merry way.
I entirely expected to have that gross feeling in my stomach of "there's no way I just did that," (the same feeling I got after committing to my college, after accidentally insulting someone, after buying my camera, or after eating an entire box of Oreos), but I did not feel like I had a troll inside my stomach. No doubt or regret at all.

Spring Semester 2011. Storytime:

I could play about six chords. With a capo, that means I could play along with nearly any song I so desired. I thought I was an expert. Didn't really need to learn anything else. (I was wrong.)

Beverly and I played together every day, usually at least 45 minutes. The kind souls in the neighboring dorm rooms had headaches nearly every day, usually at least 45 minutes. I have detested practicing all other instruments I've attempted to learn (except marimba was pretty okay), but I really couldn't get enough of guitar. Maybe it's just a way to procrastinate studying while still feeling productive.

Summer 2011. Storytime:

Nobody at camp realized I could play guitar. Maybe I just did a pretty good job of hiding it for the first few weeks. Beverly was stored under my bed, and she rarely left the cabin. My friend Joe wanted to play a song on the porch, but his guitar was across campus, so I let him borrow Beverly.
Two weeks later, I told him I wanted to lead chapel one night.
He was like, "Okay, so what are you speaking about? What songs should I play?"
And I was like, "Well I thought I could lead worship."
And he was like, "Wait, you play guitar?"
And I was like, "You borrowed my guitar two weeks ago."
And he was like, "I thought that was just for decoration."

Fall Semester 2011. Storytime:

I'm currently taking Classical Guitar I as an elective class. Classical Guitar is awesome. Ever since I began, I thought that reading tabs seemed like a cop-out to actually learning music. So now that I can read music off a staff, my knowledge of guitar is growing exponentially. It's seriously the best.

Typical Awkward

Awkward Photo Saturday at its finest:

Left to our own devices.