The Turnaround by me.

Apart from You, the world is sad and bleak.
My heart rends in thoughts of old selfish me.
Of grief and sorrow, I wish to be free.
Before this I was strong; now I am weak.
True joy and happiness, that I do seek.
Far from my Father I am in this sea
"Nearer to the shores of His heart!" I plea.
It's been so long since I've heard Him speak.

On my knees, I lift my hands and cry out:
"Father, come rescue me! I am hopeless,
Tired and sorry I am in this mess!
Lord, give me peace so I no longer doubt.
Your love covers me. With joy, I want to shout!
In thankfulness, Your name I'll gladly bless.

Lesson in Disguise by me.

There's one thing I can't stand. Disappointment.
My heart feels like it's being squeezed and torn.
Expectations have been shot and I mourn.
Tears fall down my face. It feels like torment.
I had high hopes, but now they have been rent.
Former dreams lay discarded and forlorn
Beneath the darkness the sun of the morn
Never touches. Could this be Heaven sent?

This question I've pondered many a time.
Could there be reason behind my lost hope?
Shattering my dreams is cleansing like soap
For my soul to strip me of selfish grime.
Empty of myself, upwards do I climb.
Hopeful and grace-filled. No more can I mope.

True Beauty.

True beauty is confidence. Not self-esteem, but Christ-esteem. When you finally believe you are accepted in the Beloved and loved beyond measure, you realize your identity is in your Father. And child-like faith in your Father brings about the child-like innocence and true beauty in you.

:D I don't know. It all ties together somehow. My Mac's battery is going to die...:(

Another pet peeve.

You know what I think is really ridiculous? Teenage girls. Oh my word, they really get on my nerves!!! I know...I am one of them, but I cannot stand my own kind.

Like you know how girls post up really gorgeous pictures of themselves and then have a little caption that says "I'm so ugly!"? Ok, that is annoying to the max. And then the next picture they have a caption that says "I love to be me!" Ok, if you love to be yourself, why can't you be happy with the way God made you?

Maybe I'm not giving us enough credit, since I do realize girls do that because they're insecure and are looking for attention, and the only way to get over that is to find ultimate security in Christ's acceptance.

But in all honesty, GET OVER YOURSELF. You are not ugly. God made us in His image. When you tell Him you don't think you're beautiful, you are telling God He made a mistake. If I were God, that would hurt me so bad.

Start a revolution. Stop hating your body.

P.S. Two minutes after writing this blog, I saw a group on Facebook that says "I hate when girls think being stupid is cute." Right on.

Midnight half-thoughts.

I couldn't go to sleep last night for the longest time. I was in one of those delirious states where I am kind of sleeping but aware that I really am not. Maybe I'm the only one who ever gets like that, but when it does happen to me, I end up thinking these super crazy thoughts.

One of which was how there are two different ways to go about things. In writing, in math, in drama, in cooking, in art (and many other things, but these were the main ones I was thinking about), there is a systematic, rule-book way of executing the task. And there is a free-spirited, wing-it kind of way to do finish the thing.

For example, writing (in its basic form) is grammar and vocabulary. The grammar is the syntax of the sentence and the vocabulary is the choice of words. You could write a sentence following all the rules of the English language (which is actually like a TON of rules to follow), and it could be the most grammatically perfect sentence of all. Or you could write a sentence from the top of your head (or inside your heart, in my case), and it could be the worst sentence known to mankind. But where does quality lie? In a set of rules or from someone's deepest feelings?

Or you could just totally eliminate my ideas, and write grammatically correct from inspiration. You know, whatevs. They're delirious midnight half-thoughts, so they aren't going to be fool-proof.

Random Tuesday things.

So I went to Kmart last night and bought a few things. I bought a new razor. It is super cute. It's called Schick Silk Effects Plus. It prevents against nicks and cuts, but I didn't buy it because of that...I bought it because it was $5.99 and had a cute handle. :D I know...I kind of buy into advertising. It's purple and has yellow butterflies and pink flowers. :D

I also bought Curel Continuous Comfort, and it is some pretty darn good lotion, lemme tell you. If Asia, a swimmer (whose skin is quite dry frequently), loves this lotion and it works for her, it will work for you! :D

Oh yeah, I saw the new OxyClean commercials...and that guy with like an Aussie accent cannot persuade me to buy OxyClean quite like Billy Mays can. :( Tears.

I was crying like half an hour ago, because good things that I've tried to do today keep going sour. I made lunch for Kaz and me, but his part of the mac and cheese ended up on the floor. :( Then I volunteered to make some pasta for dinner, since Dad was working and Mom was at a meeting...then that got shot down too. SO I cried into my pillow telling God I was so sick of myself, and that I seriously need an attitude adjustment. I asked Him to please show me what I should do...but then I ended up falling asleep....

BUT! Dad walked into my room, flipped the lights on, and BAM! We were making plans to go to the store to buy Italian sausage and fettucine noodles. Oh joy! :D

Speaking of the store..I posted this as my Facebook status, but seriously, does anyone else dress up to go to the store even though you know you'll be home in less than an hour or so?

Just wondering :D Peace out, girl scouts.

Another list.

Just because I feel like it.

Things I'm going to get done this summer:

1. I'm going to sew two dresses all by myself!
2. Go on some hikes to new places.
3. Write another short story.
4. Bake a cake for someone to surprise them!
5. Get a job and make some money, seriously.
6. Blog more often! Hah!
7. Speak in an accent for a whole day.
8. Go camping.
9. Lead someone to Jesus.
10. Teach a Sunday school class. :D

I feel bad that the spiritual goals are at the end of the list...:(

One more thing

We went on a boat trip this weekend as a part of our Leadership Retreat. Oh man oh man oh man! It was like I have not lived on this island for the past 16 (more or less) years! It was like seeing that rich cobalt blue water for the very first time in my life! It was beautiful...breath taking! I was just amazed. I tried to write something from it, but all I could come up with was one line that barely even makes any sense.

The unforgiving, unmerciful waves of the sea.

That's all. I was too distracted to really think of anything. At any rate, I'm updating my blog to say that I saw this really neat little niche in the rocky part of the shore. There was a rope descending from the top and down into the water. It was so cool. It looked like the end of some hike in the lower parts of Guam. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't figure out the location of our boat. I just knew we were heading to the southern end of the island. :)

I said that I am adding that to my Bucket List. I've crossed off a few things, so I'm adding a couple more so that it'll still be a list of a 100 things. Before I die, I'm going on that hike and climbing down that rope into the ocean (unless that's unsafe, then I will just go down the rope).

That's all. :D

YAC Story

Ruth Anne Natividad 15

February 25, 2010

Research

YAC Story

In My Father’s Love

Relationships are very dynamic and interesting. The one I’m particularly fond of is the relationship between a father and his daughter. There is just a sweet and special bond of tenderness between them.

Before I was born, my dad really wanted a baby girl. When my parents found out my mom was pregnant, Dad prayed so hard that God would bless them with a girl.

And then I was born. The baby girl my daddy always wanted. Georgiana Nelson. That’s where my story begins.

Ever since I was a little girl, Dad and I always have done memorable things together. We would go on outings to the beach or wash his truck or fix things around the house. I was my dad’s little helper.

“Daddy, can you come with me to throw the trash? But I’m tired. Can you give me a piggy back ride?”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Go get the trash.”

We headed out the back door and walked towards the dumpster around the corner from our house. Mom always asked me to take out the trash even though I really couldn’t have ever handled it by myself. Mom was wise like that. She knew it was bonding time with my dad.

“Daddy, thanks for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome. Go get ready for bed now. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Dad was my hero. In my eyes, he was everything I wanted to grow up to be: faithful, loving, and hardworking. He worked so hard to provide for our family. He loved my mother and he loved me.

My favorite thing to do with my dad was paint. Dad was always into art. He was the one who inspired me to start painting. We would spend hours in the backyard just painting together. Our favorite subject to paint was always my mom. My fondest memories were with Mom and Dad like that. I was their little girl.

Things changed as I got older. Priorities shifted. School took up more of my time. Art became an even bigger part of my life, and the part of my life I shared with my dad dwindled.

At the time, I didn’t know what was happening. Dad and I grew apart. I wasn’t at home as much, and Dad just seemed so distant. I also didn’t know how much his presence influenced me.

Eventually, I started realizing what was happening to us. Every time I looked for my dad, he wasn’t there. I didn’t even remember the last time I told my dad I loved him. All the time I used to spend with my dad was now spent at school and working on my artwork. It made me feel empty inside. I felt like I just let the sweet relationship with my dad die.

So I tried to fix things. Mom sometimes goes on business trips out of state, leaving Dad and me home. I thought this was an opportune moment to make up for lost time. I was so excited. I holed up in my room for a whole afternoon just planning for something Dad and I could do together.

When I was all done, I decided I would ask him if we could go out for lunch after church on Sunday. It was simple.

That evening I went up to my dad.

“Hey, Dad, do you think you and I could have lunch together this coming Sunday?”

“Sure, honey. That sounds good.”

Perfect. I was so happy! Now Dad and I had some time just for us to catch up.

Then came Sunday. Dad and I were in his truck driving home from church. We stopped at the intersection where he would have to decide either to turn left toward the way to the restaurant or to turn right towards our house. He turned right, and in that instant, my stomach dropped.

“Daddy? I thought we were going to have lunch?”

“No, we’re going home.”

“But, Dad, you said we were going to have lunch with me. Remember I asked you last Tuesday? Do you remember?”

“Oh, I was just kidding. We’re going home.”

Just kidding? What was that supposed to mean? I didn’t understand. I tried to hold the tears back. I was so excited to do spend time with my dad. I missed him, and I just wanted to know if I was still important to him. I just wanted to spend time with my daddy.

We did go home. I made my way to my room. I tried to act like everything was fine. I mean, it was just lunch anyway. It’s not a big deal.

But in reality, it was a big deal to me. Honestly, I didn’t really know why. It just really crushed my expectations. I finally realized our relationship was changing. I put effort into reversing that change, but I still got burned.

I sat on the floor of my room. Just sat there. My mind was racing trying to rationalize the way I felt. My mind was trying to convince my heart that I shouldn’t be hurt that we didn’t go out for lunch. I started crying. I was hurt.

I didn’t really know if Dad loved me. I know that sounds really bad, but hear me out. Oh, I knew he loved me, but I didn’t know if it was the “Oh, yeah…I love her because she’s my daughter.” kind. I wanted to know if Dad loved me like the “OH yes I LOVE her. She’s my daughter.” I didn’t know if anyone else had ever felt that way, or if this was just a father-daughter thing, but I know the hurt was real for me.

The phone rang. Reluctantly, I answered the phone. It was Mom. She could tell something was wrong, even though I tried to fake that I was fine. She is so my mom.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

I didn’t want to tell her. I hate admitting that I’m so vulnerable when it comes to my dad. The distance between Dad and I hurt a lot. It was something I could hide though. I didn’t want to feel the pain. I didn’t want Mom and Dad to know that I was so hurt, so insecure. I pushed it to the back of my mind, trying to find other ways to suppress that hurt and to fill up the emptiness.

“Mama, I just hurt inside. What happened? I don’t understand. Dad and I used to be close. He used to actually make time for me. He would take me to work and buy special sweets just for me.”

“Oh Sweetie, I know these last few months have been hard for you. You’re growing up and your time has to go to so many other things. Your dad doesn’t necessarily know how to relate to you in the way you need,” she explained.

“But I just want him to be there for me. We don’t have to do all the things we used to do…I just want to know he’s there, Mama.”

“You need to talk to him. You need to let him know how you feel, Baby.”

So I decided I was going to talk to Dad. He had to leave the house to go to work, so I couldn’t just talk to him right then. I was going to take the bus to the nearest stop by our church for evening service. I got to the church early, so I could be there on time and still call my dad up. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse, dialed Dad’s number and waited for him to answer.

My heart was beating so fast. Would I hurt him when I tell him how I felt? I was scared. It felt as if my heart was being opened and was being probed with a very sharp, pokey stick. I didn’t want to tell my dad how I was feeling.

Today. Today, I finally faced the music. The heartache and pain that I’ve pushed away for all these months, I finally understood why I hurt so much. I never wanted to admit that I was insecure in Dad’s love.

“Hey, how are you?”

I heard my dad’s low, gravelly voice on the other end of the line. Despite how hurt I felt, just hearing his voice calmed me. It reassured me that everything was going to be ok.

“Um, I’m ok.”

“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

“Daddy, do you love me?”

There was a long pause. I started to sweat. What was he going to say?

“Do you even have to ask? Georgiana Nelson. You are my daughter. I do love you.”

My dad knows me too well.

“Daddy, do you love me? I’m serious.”

“Yes, I love you. Unconditionally.”

“Daddy, are you proud of me?”

“Yes, so much. It’s a privilege to be your dad. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to question my love anymore. I’m your dad. I will always love you. No matter if we spend time together or not, you will always be my little girl.

Tears ran down my face in torrents. I sniffed and tried to pull myself together. This is what reconciliation feels like. This is what healing feels like. This is what it feels like to be loved.

“Thanks, Daddy. That means a lot.”

And in that moment, I knew. I knew that the bond I have with my dad, just being his daughter tied us together far deeper than I will ever know. I may grow up and things my change, but I knew right then that I will always rest peacefully in my father’s love.