The PK Files: Entry Two

The PK Files: Two

Hard, Hard, Hard as Heck; ruining my life. Feels like my little heart is being stabbed by a knife.

Kill, Kill, Kill me now; I don't wanna leave. I almost think it'd be more fun to have a bad disease.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat can produce so many wonderful rhymes...right?

Anyway, Two weeks ago, we went to see the house. It made me want to stay here even more than before; and that's saying something. Nothing against Lafayette or the people of the church; it's just not here. They aren't these people. It's not even close to being the same.

The church is a lot smaller than Trinity. I knew it would be; you can't keep up a building the size of Trinity without four or five hundred regular parishioners. It's a nice place, has a nice sanctuary. The thing I don't like about it is the smell. It's like this:

80 year old person rolled along the floor about six billion times. Then a cat peed on the carpeting six billion times. And then it was flooded with water about six billion times.

Yeah...not pleasant. It's also extremely junky. There are things lying on every available surface; things that don't need to be in a church. For example: The youth collect old parts of computers to sell. The stacks of them are spilled all over the too small room. Yes, it's a source of money and whatnot, but is it really practical to have junk laying all over? It's easy to navigate when everything is clean and organized.

The house is okay. The living room and family rooms are a mix of seafoam green and paneling; which, thank GOD, is coming down. We're also getting new carpeting and we get to paint whatever colors we want. But seriously; it smelled like cat in that house.

Three bathrooms, four bedrooms, porch on the front and back. There's lots of storage; which is a pro. There's a lot of good about the house. It's just not here.

I wish we could take the people with us. My friends, the staff, everyone. It would make life so much easier on everyone. Especially me; to have some familiar faces around.

Oh well. Life goes on.

Hope for the best, guys. You know I am.

PeAcE,

M

Dot Dot Dot

Operation Beautiful

I swear, I have never seen a website this amazing. The person behind this is truly amazing; because self esteem is lacking these days. She (I imagine, considering she was able to go into the girl's bathroom) created a whole website dedicated to telling people that they're beautiful anonymously.

It's simple, really. You grab a sticky note, or a piece of paper, and a pen/pencil, and write "You're beautiful," or "I like you just the way you are," or even "Don't change at all, because I think you're beautiful," and then stick it on the mirror of a pubic restroom, in between the pages of a library book, or even on random lockers as you pass them.

You never know how much one little phrase can mean to someone who's hurting.

Guys, wondering how you can help? Stop calling girls "hot". It's demeaning to tell any girl that she's "hot". Instead, tell every girl you meet that she's beautiful, even if you don't know her. Because, in reality, she is.

Another idea is to write "You're beautiful," (etc,.) on sticky notes and put them on random desks in your classroom, either before the period or after. It's sure to make some girl smile, and it'll make you feel good.

I've pledged that my mission in March, April, and May is to make as many girls feel beautiful as I can. I'll be writing little notes and putting them in the bathrooms of public places, sticking them into library books that I read, and telling all of my friends (and others) that they look beautiful.

Learn more about Operation Beautiful on their website, by clicking here.

Blah Therapy

Ever needed a place to vent? This is your place.

You can anonymously talk to a stranger about your problems. Doesn't it make you feel better to get those things off your chest?

You don't need an account or anything either, just go to the website and either select VENTER or LISTENER, then click enter and you'll be put through to someone who is waiting to listen/vent. It might take a few minutes, but the person will come around.

It's a great way to help people anonymously, although you could share first names, or be helped. To visit BlahTherapy, click here.

PeAcE,

Maia

The PK Files: Entry One

The PK Files: One

So....I thought about writing a story about this on Goodreads. My life as a teenage pastor's kid. But, instead, I thought it would be more fun to keep you updated on my blog. So, without further ado: The PK Files.

We're moving. We're moving. We're moving. We're moving. We're moving.

Those are the thoughts that have echoed around my mind for the past few weeks. I've been sleeping less, agonizing over the fact that I'm leaving so many people I love behind. The house I've lived seven years in won't be coming with us. Our neighborhood, the high school, my friends. None of it is coming. Just my family, pets, and furniture are coming with us.

I started doing an "unofficial" countdown. I look at things in my daily, weekly, even monthly life and thing, "In less than five months, those things won't be a part of what I do." It's painful to think that far ahead. To think about leaving what I consider my home.

My mom (the pastor) thinks that "God is in this". She told everybody at church last weekend that she thought it was a "God thing". I just rolled my eyes. She's ruining my life, I thought.

What made las weekend the hardest would have to be the facade I wore. I put on a brave face for everyone; so they wouldn't think I was a weakling ready to burst into tears at any moment. I came close a few times, but just pretended like it wasn't happening. Even though it was.

It's funny how much pretending goes on with these type of things. We aren't allowed to tell anyone for a few weeks after the confirmation of the move is made. (It feels that way.) I've gone places and talked to people in the past month without getting them suspicious. We act. We fake. But God doesn't want us to do it. Then why are people who work in his church telling us to?

They say I can't act, I can't lie. But just think about it. I've been hiding this for a month now. Thirty. Whole. Days. If that's not acting, if that's not lying, then what in the heck is?

PeAcE,

M

The Lost Get Found

"So when you get the chance, are you gonna take it? There's a really big world are your fingertips, and you know you have the chance to change it." ~Britt Nicole

Yesterday, at church, my friend Lexi and I sang "The Lost Get Found" By Britt Nicole, in service. After a few weeks of rehearsal, and six months of waiting, it was finally time.

This weeks sermon was about the man at the pool of Bethseda, who had been an invalid for thirty eight years.

John 5

The Healing at the Pool

1Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for a feast of the Jews. 2Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda[a] and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. 3Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed.[b] 5One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 6When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, "Do you want to get well?"
7"Sir," the invalid replied, "I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me."

8Then Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." 9At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.
The day on which this took place was a Sabbath, 10and so the Jews said to the man who had been healed, "It is the Sabbath; the law forbids you to carry your mat."

11But he replied, "The man who made me well said to me, 'Pick up your mat and walk.' "

12So they asked him, "Who is this fellow who told you to pick it up and walk?"

13The man who was healed had no idea who it was, for Jesus had slipped away into the crowd that was there.

14Later Jesus found him at the temple and said to him, "See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you." 15The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well.

Kristen, the woman who assisted us with practices and organized the whole thing, said that she couldn't think of a better time to sing the song. "'The scripture is telling us, showing us, about how the man was healed. How Jesus healed many others, most of whom began to praise the Lord immediately after. He's finding the lost.'"

So even though my hand was shaking violently, even though my heart was heavy with nerves, I went up there and sang my heart out, for God, for Kristen (who is leaving this weekend), and for myself.

I was lost. But because of God, now I'm found.

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see." -Amazing Grace: Hymn

Her Story: My Testimony

***This post is going to need your imagination, so think deep!***

Imagine: A stage, lit up with two bright lights, each resting on electric blue and lme green stands. They sit on either side of a tall, gray chair with metal legs. The set up rests upon a roughly carpeted stage, sitting in front of a crowd of 7th and 8th graders. The teens are waiting for someone to go up and sit in that chair, and declare the deepest things about their faith to them.

A girl bravely hops to her feet, and climbs the stairs. She settles into the chair between the lights, and looks down upon her peers. Then she sucks in a breath, and begins her story.

"Their are two myths people have about pastors kids." She begins. "One, that we always have perfect faith, never question, never waver from God. Our entire life is devoted to him, and we always believe. We're expected to be one of the first to volunteer/sign up for everything. Two, that we decide to rebel against our mom/dad's decision, and do all sorts of little evil things to pay them back for it.

"Those are just myths," she says, looking down at the crowd. "Just myths. Really, we're like everyone else. How do I know this? Cause I experienced it myself.

"Sixth grade is when it happened. The year my faith wavered so much, it threatened to collapse on me. All the now eighth graders had left the sunday school class, and now the room was filled with solemn fifth grade girls and rowdy fifth grade boys. I'll admit it was different, but it was okay. Anyway, that was the first leg of my wavering faith journey.

"The second came when my friends started critiquing my mom's sermons to me. Not just in front of me, but actually to my face. They'd say things like, "Your mom's sermon was.................interesting." or "Your mom's sermon was kinda boring today, I almost fell asleep." At first, it was just annoying, but then it really started to get to me. Looking back, I can tell I was taking my frustrations out on God.

"That's when I started asking myself, "Does God really exist? Did he really make us? Does he really care? Did he die for me, or for Alexandra?" The questions flew around my brain every time I stepped into the role of the pastor's daughter.

"I felt like I was living a double life. At home and school I was questioning God, my faith, and the faith of others. But the minute I stepped into the church building, I was the girl of unwavering faith, the pastor's daughter.

"I hated it so much I thought I would die. But then came confirmation. A choice I MADE! Anyway, I really wanted to do it, for my mom, for me, for God, and for my teetering faith. So I did. It was rough, wasn't easy, yet it was fun and worth it. But in the last week, my faith began teetering again, and I began to constantly wonder whether I made the right decision.

"Then came the blessing ceremony. My parents read me the most beautiful things, and I began to cry-I wasn't the only one. Tears were pouring out of eyes I couldn't imagine. We hugged, we cried, and we hugged some more. It was beautiful. It was then I realized that God had done this for me. He had shown me different sides of people, showed me the love a group and the love of him.

"So that night, in the backseat of my dad's car, I accepted Christ into my heart. And the next day, I was named a servant of God."

She smiles and sit for a second, cherishing the memory. Then, to thunderous applause, hops down from the chair and goes down the steps. The applause quiets as she takes her seat. The next person rises to her feet, and goes up the steps, ready to share.