a rockstar in process

Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus

2012-01-12T11:07:00.001-06:00

Check out these two videos, pretty powerful stuff. And by pretty powerful, I mean huge - they are getting at the heart of Christianity, the Gospel.

The second video, in a way, explains the first one - a religion says "Do" while Jesus says "It's Done". We are justified and sanctified because of the cross. Once we come to a greater realization of what we have positionally in Christ - that we are forgiven, we are made righteous because we are in Christ, the greater understanding we have of the gospel, which leads to true freedom and authentic obedience to Christ. Our focus should be on God and his work in Jesus rather than the focus being on myself and what I need to do. Out of a deep love for Christ comes a natural yearning to be disciplined and obedient; not the other way around.

And here is the link to the second video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IO-Cp2kcFjc&list=UUc4yillQaNo6a-iG2PYbbrA&index=10&feature=plcp

Bittersweet

2011-12-02T18:34:00.001-06:00

Tell me it's nothing
Try to convince me that I'm not drowning
Oh
Let me tell you that I am1

Why am I feeling so guilty
Why am I holding my breath
I'm worried about everyone but me
And I just keep losing myself1

I don't wanna be the one to say goodbye
But I will, I will, I will
I don't wanna be the first to let it go
But I will, I will, I will2

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this3

Please
Please tell me you know
I've got to let you go
I can't help falling out of love with you
Oh1

Maybe you're thinking
"Come back, come back, come back to me
I know that we could work it out somehow"
But if this was a movie, I'd be there by now4

I'm already gone, already gone
You can't make it feel right when you know that it's wrong
I'm already gone, already gone
There's no moving on so I'm already gone5

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this3

Is it over yet?
Can I open my eyes?
Is this as hard as it gets?
Is this what it feels like to really cry?6

In another life
Maybe I would stay
So you don't have to say
I was the one that got away7

I wish nothing but the best for you
Nothing compares, no worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?8

Never thought we'd have a last kiss
Never imagined we'd end like this3

1 - Falling | The Civil Wars
2 - Maybe | Ingrid Michaelson
3 - Last Kiss | Taylor Swift
4 - If This Was A Movie | Taylor Swift
5 - Already Gone | Kelly Clarkson
6 - Cry | Kelly Clarkson
7 - The One That Got Away | Katy Perry
8 - Someone Like You | Adele

I Will Wait For You

2011-11-03T11:32:00.001-05:00

I discovered this YouTube video about a year or so ago. Not only was I impressed by her ability to write such a poem, to memorize it, and to convey it with such conviction, but quite simply - it is full of great truths that every woman needs to hear. Listen closely, and be challenged. Check out another of her video's, which is just as powerful - The Truth Without Photoshop by Janette...ikz

John and Betty

2011-10-14T10:29:00.002-05:00

There is a funny thing that happens when you hit age eighteen-nineteen. Having graduated from high school, the excitement of college looms ahead. All focus and energy and thought is on the next four years.

Suitcases are packed full of clothes, pictures are tucked away to be hung on empty walls, and all kinds of "necessities" for a dorm room are purchased. And then the big day comes. Standing on the curb outside of your new home, you tell Mom and Dad goodbye. Dad puts his hand on your shoulder, letting you know one more time that he is proud of you, knows you will do great, and to make sure you always get your oil changed on time. And then Mom, through her tears, says nothing but everything as she holds your face in her hands and then hugs you tightly.

Watching them as they walk to the car, you are struck with a few thoughts. First, you wonder what the drive home will be like for them. Will they reminisce? Will Dad cry, because you know Mom will. Will they remember and laugh about that time Dad put a diaper on your head instead of a raggy? Or maybe they will talk about the time you scored the winning goal against Urbandale as a freshman in high school, reliving it all like it was yesterday. Part of you wishes you could sit in on that car ride.

And then a new thought crosses your mind, one that you have never really given much thought to. The car backs up, and heads towards the end of the parking lot. You are struck with the intensity of emotion that accompanies this thought. The left blinker begins to bleep with color, signaling a turn is about to be made. For eighteen years you have been under their watch and care. The car crawls forward, making the turn without any sense of hurry, and slowly drives off into the distance. In that moment, you recognize for the first time the depth of love, protection, and investment Mom and Dad have poured into you for your entire life.

With an overwhelming awareness of gratitude and affection, your eyes well up with tears and you turn around to begin the walk back to the dorm, alone.

______

It has been four and a half years since I waved goodbye to Mom and Dad as they pulled away from the UNI campus. My college experience was more than I could have ever imagined it would be. I have encountered trials of many kinds and joys that I never thought possible. But through all of it, the sentiment I had for the first time while standing on that curb has never left me. Instead, my appreciation and love for my parents has only grown deeper the older I have gotten and the more of life I have experienced.

Since I was a little girl who still willingly wore dresses, I have always said I wanted to be a Grandma. Aging has never scared me. Rather, I look forward to it with much anticipation and expectation. Because to me, with age comes experience, and with experience comes wisdom and understanding. And I long to be a woman who can always be taught, in order that I might gain wisdom and speak with kindness and faithful instruction (Proverbs 31:26).

My understanding up to now, what I have really learned in the last four+ years, is that my parents have been uniquely placed in my life. Very purposefully God appointed John Norbert Boccella and Betty Josephine (Terry) Boccella to be the two people in my life who constantly instruct, correct, guide, and love me. They carry a weighty responsibility as a Mom and Dad. But they have bore that role with grace and faithfulness.

I have known their love day in and day out my entire life. Yet it has only been with age that I have begun to understand how their love for me is deeply rooted and grounded in their love for Christ. Whether they are laughing with me or disciplining me, the underlying purpose is to glorify God and point me to Jesus. They desire to see me be successful, and their definition of success is to be a woman of excellence, always giving my best without having to be perfect, with her eyes fixed on Jesus. With patience, kindness, and gentleness they have instructed me in the way of the Lord, to follow His commands and to write them upon my heart.

One of those commands is to honor your parents.

Deuteronomy 5:16 says, "Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the LORD your God is giving you." If I am going to glorify God in all things and learn how to be teachable and righteous, one of the best ways to practice that is to come under the authority of and honor my parents. Make no mistake, God was very intentional in the way He designed the relationship between parents and children. Again, it is with age and maturity that I have begun to appreciate this very intentional design, and I am increasingly overwhelmed with gratefulness for God's all-knowing ways.

Whether you are sixteen or fifty-six, I urge you, brothers and sisters, to ask God for an ability to see His perfect plan in terms of parents. No, it is not always easy to honor Mom and Dad. No, it is not always straightforward and simple to obey. No, it is not always our natural inclination to willingly admit we are wrong and that Mom and Dad do in fact know best. But we are commanded by our loving FATHER in Heaven to honor our father and mother. And if my parents have taught me anything... It is that God is who He says He is. He is worthy of all my devotion and deserves my submission. And while I am on this earth, I will willingly abide by John and Betty and follow them as they follow Christ.

Mom and Dad, thank you. Your love has not gone unknown, your patience has not gone unacknowledged, and your faithfulness has not gone unappreciated. I cherish you both.

OH THAT HURT

2011-10-06T20:18:00.001-05:00

Let me get honest about something. About me. I believe in authenticity and live by a "NO BS" policy. There is a lot to be said about individuals who are willing to humble themselves, be vulnerable, and get real. In my experience, those people have been the men and women I have learned the most from and enjoy spending the most time with. Therefore, working to be a woman of genuineness is important to me.

Because I hold that principle, it means that even when I do or say really idiotic, embarrassing, "OMG" kinds of things, I want to be candid about it. And because of that, I have discovered it has been a great way for me to learn humility. When my perfectionism gets brought to light and I realize I do not have it all together, my pride comes a tumblin' down and I am reminded of the importance to be real, that I am not in control, and admit failures. Even when it is embarrassing.

This evening was yet another opportunity for me to learn that I do stupid things. To once again see that I am not always organized, coordinated, or forward-thinking in a right way. Too often I get caught up in details that do not matter, swept away in trivial facts. I miss the moment as it happens.

Let me set the scene for you.

For the fifth or sixth, maybe even seventh night in a row, we had a gorgeous fall evening here in Iowa. The leaves are bursting with oranges, reds, and yellows. It is the best time of the year, if you ask me!

Taking full advantage of the weather, one of my high schoolers and I spent an hour or so on a walk throughout our neighborhood. We chattied about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. Okay, not really. We did talk about life, she tried to talk about love, and happiness is nice, but was not a topic of conversation.

After I "dropped off" my high schooler and I began the walk back towards my own home, I began to take note of my surroundings. Again, with weather like this, one would do wrong to not observe and enjoy it! So I was. But maybe too intently.

As I turned my head to the right, to take note of a gorgeous, lovely fall tree, no longer was I walking along the road without obtrusion. I met something hard and forceful head on. A parked truck.

Yes, that's right. You read correctly. My attention was so caught up in looking at a tree that I ran into a parked truck. Oh, Jenn, Jenn, Jenn!

My first reaction was "Oh my gosh, oh that hurt," quickly followed by, "Oh, dear Lord, please please please I hope no one saw that." I have absolutely no idea how many people witnessed it, but in order to comfort myself, I would say not a soul saw it. Except God. And I am sure He was rolling on the floor with laughter.

Needless to say, admittedly I am a klutz. And it was one more chance for me to learn that I am simply, plainly, sometimes stupidly, human. I do not have it all together all the time, and that is okay with me. Because whether it is walking into a parked truck or going through a break up, I am humbly reminded that the truth is, I am not in control. So, praise God for parked trucks.

Marshall

2011-10-06T11:17:00.002-05:00

His name is Marshall. I am convinced that if this bright-eyed, energetic, loving, and gorgeous young pup was instead a young man, he would be a charmer. He would sweep young ladies off their feet with his dashing smile and quick wit. With a wink of his eye women would [literally] fall to the floor in shock and awe. In a moment of need, whether large or small, he would be at her side. Well, no. Instead of standing at her side, he would take hold of her, throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and fix the problem single-handedly. That is the kind of guy my pup would be. And even though he is just a dog, the boy sure has me wrapped around his finger....er, his paw.

Boom Holler

2011-10-03T16:42:00.000-05:00

Some may call me a wordsmith. Others may simply shake their heads in disbelief at some of the [stupid] things that come out of my mouth. However you look at it, I love words.

Over the years I have been known to develop some of my own catchphrases - some stick (i.e. "Rockin It") while others epically fail (i.e. "Jim James"). Most recently, I have begun to use the phrase "Boom Holler." Previously, I would use each word apart from the other. For example: "Did that just happen? Boom. Yes it did." Or "Hollerrr, I'm excited!" While each word is fantastic to use on its own, placing them together seemed like a much better option. So I did.

I am pleased to say that not only is this an expression I personally use on a daily basis, but it has in fact been used by other people, including a mother (not my own). That is right, folks. Boom Holler has made its way onto the scene and it is here to stay, just like MySpace.... Or something.

While the saying makes perfect sense to me, I thought why the hex not create a dictionary definition for it, all in the hopes of making it really catch on. So, whether or not you find this to be another genius move from the wordsmith or a ridiculous idea from the idiot, I know you have a smile on your face. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

Boom Holler | boōm hol-ler |
adjective
1. an expression of excitement
2. signifies achievement or success
Origin:
2011; Middle America; varient of hollaaa
Synonyms
1. Yes! 3. Awesome 4. Jazzed up 5. Owned 6. Dude, that is sweet, I am stoked
Antonyms
1. Bummer

I Will Fix My Eyes On You

2011-09-29T10:37:00.003-05:00

Sitting down to write, I am not sure what I want to try to give voice to. It feels as if there is so much to say and yet nothing to say at all. Maybe it is a matter of an inability to fully articulate my thoughts, or perhaps a fear of appearing too vulnerable, or possibly a sense of anxiety about what one might think as they read this. It might even be a mixture of all of that. But I know myself, and I know that I grow and gain insight through writing, by being honest through words. Consequently, this post is more out of a necessity to process than anything else.

Throughout the last few weeks I have encountered a season of life that can simply be defined as extremely difficult. Over the years I have run into experiences that have challenged and fatigued me, causing me to fall to my knees in prayer; however, those experiences do not quite compare to the past couple of months. Words to describe recent events in my life are confusing, hurtful, frustrating, embarrassing, and lonely. At the same time, it could also be characterized as incredibly humbling, encouraging, and a blessing.

It is not easy to face yourself, to be intensely honest and examine your heart. I have discovered it is easier to try and justify myself, to find cover in rehearsing lies to myself, or to merely just run away from myself. My heart is not always pure, my motives are not always right, true, and honorable. The truth is, I am a sinner. And I fall so short of perfection.

But I have hope.

My imperfections have been covered by the cross, by the blood of Christ. It is by grace, the power and presence of God in my life, that I can be made perfect. 1 Peter 5:10 says, "And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." In honest humility I can admit my shortcomings, insecurities, wrongdoings, and faults. I can call on the name of my LORD, my Savior, and my Redeemer. He hears my cry and He meets me where I am at, restoring me to wholeness and purity.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 it says, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." I do not claim to be flawless, nor do I have all of the answers to life's questions. I do not always make wise decisions, and I am completely aware that my actions and words often fall short of complete authenticity, which lead to pain, hurt, and hardship. I own that and I take responsibility for that.

However, this verse tells me that I should boast in my weaknesses because it is in my weaknesses that God's power is made known. His perfection covers my imperfections. Did you get that? God's power is made perfect in weakness, His grace is sufficient. My faults allow me to point back to the cross, humbly acknowledging it is by grace alone that I am saved. When I am weak, then I am strong.

This season of life has shed one big spotlight on my weaknesses. There has been no hiding. And yet I have only experienced God's grace, His faithfulness, His unconditional love. Over and over again He reminds me of Who I am and Whose I am.

The following song from Hillsong and the Psalm's have been incredibly encouraging to me. May they serve as a reminder to you, to me, that we are unconditionally loved, we cannot do or say anything to earn and/or lose His love for us. In the words of Christ, it is finished.

On the day I called
You answered me
And the hope in my soul increased
I lift my hands
And turn my eyes
To the God who heals my heart
And gives me peace

You are more than
My words could ever say
You are Lord over all
Over all of my days
I will see this season through
I will fix my eyes on You
Only You
Only You

I worship You
And lift You high
God forever let Your name be glorified
I lift my voice
And sing Your name
For you gave Your life to cleanse my sin
And took away my shame

You are more than
My words could ever say
You are Lord over all
Over all of my days
I will see this season through
I will fix my eyes on You
Only You
Only You

Hallelujah
The earth will sing
May Your name be glorified
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
The earth will sing
May Your name be glorified

You are more than
My words could ever say
You are Lord over all
Over all of my days
I will see this season through
I will fix my eyes on You
Only You
Only You
[x2]

Psalm 40
I waited patiently for the LORD;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
and put their trust in the LORD.
Blessed is the man who makes
the LORD his trust,
who does not turn to the proud,
to those who go astray after a lie!
You have multiplied, O LORD my God,
your wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us;
none can compare with you!
I will proclaim and tell of them,
yet they are more than can be told.
In sacrifice and offering you have not delighted,
but you have given me an open ear.
Burnt offering and sin offering
you have not required.
Then I said, “Behold, I have come;
in the scroll of the book it is written of me:
I delight to do your will, O my God;
your law is within my heart.”
I have told the glad news of deliverance
in the great congregation;
behold, I have not restrained my lips,
as you know, O LORD.
I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart;
I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
from the great congregation.
As for you, O LORD, you will not restrain
your mercy from me;
your steadfast love and your faithfulness will
ever preserve me!
For evils have encompassed me
beyond number;
my iniquities have overtaken me,
and I cannot see;
they are more than the hairs of my head;
my heart fails me.
Be pleased, O LORD, to deliver me!
O LORD, make haste to help me!
Let those be put to shame and disappointed altogether
who seek to snatch away my life;
let those be turned back and brought to dishonor
who delight in my hurt!
Let those be appalled because of their shame
who say to me, “Aha, Aha!”
But may all who seek you
rejoice and be glad in you;
may those who love your salvation
say continually, “Great is the LORD!”
As for me, I am poor and needy,
but the Lord takes thought for me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
do not delay, O my God!
(Psalm 40 ESV)

Ohhh, Dats Nice.

2011-08-01T18:34:00.008-05:00

Tijuana, Mexico. Prior to last week, it was a place that conjured up feelings of apprehension, uncertainty, and a little bit of fear. But this afternoon, sitting down in a coffee shop in middle America, trying to write this post, all I feel is gratitude and a deep affection for the country and its people. Quite simply, Tijuana tiene un pedazo de mi corazón. Translation: Tijuana has a piece of my heart.

In the months leading up to this trip, I continually heard reasons why we shouldn't go. Sending two adults (Stan Hayek and myself) plus nine high school students from Escape22 into a territory that was seemingly "flourishing" in drug wars, kidnappings, and deaths was reason for concern, sure. Yet the excitement and anticipation of experiencing God outweighed any desire to stay home. And shoot, let me be really honest: trusting God in all things is hard to do, it is. Yet our only response should always be to keep our eyes set on things above, hands open in a "Here I am, send me" motion, and to fall on our knees and glorify God for being I AM.

My desire, our team's desire, was to love God, love people, and give God the glory. Our experiences in Tijuana allowed us to practice that in real, tangible ways. Most importantly, in the midst of loving others, we experienced God's love for us. All I can say about that is my soul sings to my Savior God, how great thou art, how great thou art.

I am still decompressing from the whole week, and part of my personal "debriefing" involves this posting. While I long for you, whoever you are that is reading this, to know and feel what I do from this experience, the best I can do is write down highlights from our trip, working with Mexico Caravan Ministries. May you be encouraged by what God is doing in the hearts of high school youth, Mexico, and ultimately throughout all of creation.

1. Liberity Bell, Maddie, and Roger. On our very first flight from Des Moines to Minneapolis, I challenged two of the girls, Christine and Tess, to make it a point to talk to and learn the names of people we interacted with. They both took me up on it, going above and beyond my expectations! The flight from Minneapolis to San Diego, Christine sat next to a 23-year old woman named Liberity, the mother of an 18-month old little girl named Maddie.

Throughout the entire trip Liberity was, without a doubt, a chatty Kathy comedic! She practically had Christine rolling in the aisles with laughter, it was fun to observe their interactions. By the end of the flight, Christine was falling asleep on the shoulder of Liberity, Maddie was sitting in the laps of Christine and I, and Liberity told us if we decided to not go all the way to Tijuana we could call her. How neat is that?

Tess chatted with Roger, a married man and father of one. She openly shared why we were going to Mexico, and I heard them talking about church and such. Before too long, Roger was sharing snacks with all of us, and clearly taking a fatherly-care for Tess, pointing things out to her from the window as we landed in San Diego. Again, it was so fun to observe Tess conversing with a stranger as though she had known him for years.

My flight buddies! Tess and Christine (left to right).

2. The Rock. Sunday morning we attended church at The Rock. I thought Cornerstone was large, this place was unbelievable. During announcements it was mentioned that over 12,483 people attend the church every single Sunday at one of the five (yes, I said five) services they have every week. And that number doesn't include their television or internet audience. God is using this church to reach thousands, as well as impact the local community.

The series being taught was "Why Do Bad Things Happen?" It was a timely message as we were preparing to head into "danger zone Mexico." The pastor opened up the sermon with a brilliant illustration. He had an apple, pear, and orange. Before he sliced through each fruit, he asked "Have you ever bit into an apple and inside it turned out to be an orange?" He did this for each piece of fruit, then he would slice it in half, hold it up, and say, "An apple on the outside is an apple on the inside." He looked at the crowd and said, "If I were to slice you open, Christian, would you be a Christian on the inside?" Bam. What an opening line. Essentially, if I claim Christ, when bad things happen do I still claim Christ? Do I know and love him well enough to believe that even when I don't know why, He does? Do I walk in that truth? It's a great question.

Lastly, this was an encouraging time as during worship we sang Chris Tomlin's Our God is Greater. The chorus rings with the words, "Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God you are higher than any other", and as you get to the bridge the words are, "And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us? And if our God is with us, then what could stand against?" What a sweet, sweet thing to claim as we were literally miles away from crossing the border. Amen.

Worship at The Rock.

3. Authentic Mexican. I love food. I love it, it's amazing, best thing to ever happen to my stomach. But what makes food more delicious is when it is authentic - and Tijuana did not disappoint! We had food from local restaurants as well as home cooked meals by families we built for. Mmmmm Mmmmm good!

Our first meal was at El Pablano's. We met Jesus, the main cook. What a fun way to kick off our time in Mexico.

If only pictures could communicate flavor...

4. El futbol. The first night in Tijuana our athletic team, full of good ol' Midwesterners, pulled in kids from the other teams also at Caravan for the week (one of them happened to be from Norwalk, Iowa! Small world). Before too long we headed up to the sand field, playing a massive game of soccer with the locals, kids and adults alike. Awesome, awesome way to begin our time there.

Throughout the whole week our team was great about consistently coming up with our own fun! Whether it was soccer, ultimate, football, catch, ninja, keep away, or red light green light, we were never short of laughter!! Who needs video games or television when you have friends? I have a six pack thanks to all of the laughing.

5. Our home. Living in Tijuana for the week was great. Despite all of the apparent dangers, I couldn't have felt more safe! It was a great little dormitory, and at night it was so neat to look out over Tijuana and see little spots of light all over the hillside.

Our days were structured like this:

6:30am - Up and adam!

7:00 - Quiet Time with God

7:30 - Breakfast (poptarts, bagels, toast, peanut butter, cheerios!)

8:00 - Large group worship, teaching about God and his heart for the world

9:30 - Head out to the build sites

2-4ish - Return to the dorm

6:00pm ish - Dinner

7:00 - (Tue/Thurs) Teaching time

9:00 - Team time (debriefing)

11:00 - BEDTIME!

Do it again tomorrow.

The dorm. Below is the view from the driveway, looking out at the city.

6. Our first build. What do you get when you throw 11 Midwesterners together? A stud group full of hard workers that get it done and get it done well! We rocked our first build site, finishing within about four hours, including lunch time. It was a total blast, and I'm proud to say that despite prior concerns some may have had...the girls sure can hammer a nail.

Christine and I stole Drew's camera on the build site. We thought it was a good idea to take a photoshoot break.

The team plus the family we built the home for, standing in front of our finished project! They were so incredibly grateful for their new home.

7. Lorena. On our first build site there were a few children running around, including the daughter of the woman who we were building for. This little girls name was Lorena, and for whatever reason, we just clicked. Before too long, Lorena and her brother stood around the build site, just watching. Eventually we pulled them into helping us, giving them a hammer and having them help build their own home.

It was so neat to engage them, despite language barriers. While I tried to converse with her, at one point she told me (in Spanish), "You don't understand much Spanish, do you?" Yet our interactions communicated care, and I believe she will remember me. Before I left she gave me a couple of pictures she drew, and I wrote her a note with a stick-figure picture of she and I together.

My little Lorena!

Another highlight from this build was Lorena's brother. I can't recall his name (I could never understand what he was saying), but I connected with him, too. After working for a couple of hours, he saw the white Nike sweatband I was wearing on my wrist. It was wet with sweat, but he didn't seem to care as I took it off and slid it up his little wrist. Next thing I knew, he took off. Oh well, who needed the sweatband anyway, right? Well...that was not his intent. He came running back to me, waving something in the air. I realized he had run off to have his mother untie the bracelet he had been wearing on his little left wrist. He raised his hand up to me, handing it over. I said, "Para mi (For me)?" He said, "Si (Yes)." He wanted to switch. My heart lept with joy and warmth. This thing is staying on my wrist as long as possible.

The skinny red and green bracelet is from the little boy. I will forever remember him and his sister Lorena.

Christine, Alyssa, and Stefan giving piggybacks to the kids. This was a big-time hit! So fun to watch the joy on the faces of both my high schoolers and the children.

8. The Caravan Staff. While I unfortunately did not have the opportunity to get to know every person on staff, I was grateful to have drawn close to a few. They sure were one encouraging bunch of kids, that is for sure! And yes, I say kids as all of them except two were 3-5 years younger than I am. But, they did their jobs well, made us feel welcome, and were a huge reason why we had such a great experience. Praise God for the work they are doing down there, their hearts to know God and make Him known! May God continue to shape their lives, using them in mighty ways! Martha, Tiersa, Taylor, Nate, Tyler, Josh, Josie, Sam, Sara, and Paisley. Shhhhh, but my favorites were Taylor (hilar and so stinkin fun!), Martha (sweetest thing in the world), and Paisley (cutie-patootie!). Rockstar women of God.

9. My kids. As we got off the plane on Saturday the 30th, setting foot inside the Des Moines airport, I became one hot mess. In a matter of about seven days the depth and breadth of care and compassion I developed for the nine kids on the trip was unbelievable. Prior to the trip I literally had close to zero knowledge about any of them. There were a couple I had interacted with a handful of times, but beyond that, I was on a trip with strangers. But throughout the week God drew our hearts together.

The team unity throughout the whole week was unreal. There were no confrontations, no drama, no hurt feelings. Pure fun, encouragement, and affirmation were had by all. In fact, one night during team meeting we went around in a circle and affirmed each and every person. It was incredibly fun to hear what others saw in one another, how God's hand is upon each boy and each girl. Sitting in the circle I felt like one proud mama!!

At one point during a work day, we were in heavy traffic and witnessed a pretty bad car accident. Sitting on the side of the road (for a reason apart from the accident), I turned and adamantly asked everyone to make sure their seat belts were on. Their response? "Yes, Mama Jenn." Their answer made me smile.

By the end of the trip, half of me felt like their big sister, the other half a protective mother. No matter how you look at it, I'm proud of each of them, how Christ is at work in their hearts. They have all my love and support...I'm one big fan.

Tess - The rock of our group. She was deemed as the most mature student on the team by her teammates, in fact. Such a quiet, caring, warm soul she has, so easy to be around. Not only that, but her Spanish-speaking abilities were used so often and with much appreciation! Whether it's knitting, speaking Spanish/French/English, or speaking wisdom, Tess is a renaissance kind of woman.

Tayler - The man of consistency. If he hadn't told me, I would have never known that he has to deal with bipolar disorder. Tayler was a reliable, consistant teammate throughout the week. I have full confidence that he would do anything for me at the drop of a hat. He is so stinking loyal!!! Not to mention my favorite dance partner :)

Stefan - The man with the biggest heart. While I do not use this word, ever, the only way to describe Stefan is as the worlds biggest sweetheart. He is always aware of others needs, looking to fulfill them before a person knows they need it to be met. His work ethic and excellence in what he does was obvious all week--even when he was sick. A big teddy bear who would do anything for anybody.

Samuel - One little guy with one huge love for God. At fifteen years old, the insight and wisdom this young man has is challenging, oh so challenging! Samuel reminds me a lot of Jake, both in his ability to always point back to Jesus as well as his sense of humor. He's just a fun guy to be around.

Drew, aka ADubs - The man of change! Talk about seeing God's hand all over a person... What Andrew was like day one in comparison to day eight...wow. How fun it was to watch this boy really experience God, laying it all out. He is endearing, you can't help but like the guy. I'm proud of him and I claim him as my little brother.

Haley - The one who works in everything as if she is working for the Lord. Not one time the entire trip did I hear this girl complain. In everything, she does it with a cheerful heart. My goodness. It was incredibly fun to watch her try anything, always giving it her best shot and greatest effort. She is great with kids, and her time to shine was at the orphanage...the kids wouldn't get off of her!

Bri - The cutest little thing you ever did see! If I were a freshman in college, Bri would be the girl I'd want to be best friends with. The saying about great things come in small packages totally describes her. Do not underestimate her abilities! One of the brightest, sharpest girls I've met. And in a quiet way, she is incredibly hilarious.

Alyssa - The source of joy and compassion. It's no wonder her middle name is Joy...it's who she is. Always a smile on her face, Alyssa does great in making others feel cared for and a part of the group. Not only that, but her compassion for others runs deep and it's a challenge to me. And then you put this girl with Christine....and crazy hilarious moments ensue!

Christine - The funniest person I ever did meet. Tine, Tine, Tine. This girl should be a stand-up comic. Full of one-liners, you cannot help but break out in laughter around this girl. She brings smiles to faces like it's her job! Gotta love her.

All of my kids.

My favorite girls.

10. Southern Accents. Thanks to someone, I do not remember who, our team spoke in Southern accents for the last half of the trip. You would have thought we were from Tennessee, North Carolina, Georgia, Texas or Virigina. Not Central Iowa. And it cracked me up. Again, my kids are the best - oh, dats nice. Buncha crazy coyotes. Oh my wordy.

11. My bunk mate. One of my favorite parts of the trip were the one-on-one chatty times I had with my girls. Often times, it was in the evenings or nights that these would happen, so I always looked forward to that time of day. But without a doubt, I loved staying up late into the night and talking with my bunk mate, Alyssa Joy. There is a depth about her that challenges me and also encourages me. God used this trip to draw our hearts together, and I'm so grateful!! Bug.

12. Narcolepsy. Speaking of Alyssa, this girl can fall asleep anywhere, anytime. It's absolutely the weirdest most hilarious thing I've seen. Stan tried to keep a running picture log of all the places she fell asleep... And this doesn't even do it justice.

Haven't even left the country and she's already sleeping...

13. Build day #2. What was supposed to be day #3 was #2 (our second day was full of unexpected things...) for our team. Once again, we had an absolute blast and rocked the house. We got to work with our favorite staffer, Taylor, too. Part of the fun was in the fact that a home nearby had a radio playing, which meant I danced my way through the work day!

The soon-to-be owner of the home, Victor, is by trade a clown. At one point, as I was dancing on top of a rock pile, he came up and danced with me. Eventually he waved me to come inside, which I did cautiously. Next thing I knew, I was wearing his clown suit on top of my work clothes and doing the Macarena. Worth it.

Victor and I, with two neighbor children.

14. The Orphanage. On Thursday we got to spend the entire day at two orphanages. It was easily one of the best days. To watch how cultural and language barriers be broken was unreal. Through physical touch, attempts at broken Spanish, and laughter, our team loved the hex out of those children.

It was a beautiful picture of how Christ loves us, too. In the two-three hours we got to spend at each place, the depth of care we had for those kids was immeasurable. It reminded me of how much Christ loves me...but the sweet thing is, He will never leave me as an orphan. He calls me his child! And knowing that, it makes me want to praise Him and pray for those children, that they might know their Father in heaven.

*One of the coolest things at these orphanages was watching my boys play with them. All four of them held little boys and girls, rocking them to sleep and holding them in their arms. Absolutely precious.

Stefan with a little girl.

Drew, with his favorite little one.

15. Corina. At the first orphanage, one of the little girls I hit it off with was probably the oldest one in the bunch. Her name was Corina, and she was 10-years old. The thing is, she was more like a 40-year old in a 10-year old body. I watched her throughout the afternoon care for her two younger brothers as well as those unrelated to her by blood. She was last to get her food, as she sat and fed others first. She played with the kids, she wiped the tears of the babies. And she was ten.

At one point she saw me give another little girl a piggyback ride. She looked at me and gave me a pouty face, and I said "Que (What)?" She laughed and shook her head. I got down on my knees, pointed at my back and said, "Aqui (Here)!" She broke out into a huge smile and clambered on my back. I didn't do anything but walk her around for a little bit, and when I sat her back to the ground, I looked her in the eyes and said, "Corina, tu estas muy bonita (Corina, you're very pretty)." She smiled and then gave me a hug. I wondered if anyone had ever told her that before.

Later, I was sitting on a concrete wall and she came up to me, handing me a tiny beaded cross. I asked, "Que es este (What is this)?" She said, "Es el cruz para tu (It is the cross, for you)." I attempted to ask, "Quien es en el cross (Who is on the cross)?" She understood what I meant and responded, "Jesus Cristo (Jesus Christ)!" I then asked her if she knew Him, and she said Yes. I said do you know Him in your heart, and she pointed at her chest and said "Si!!" While I do not know if she does in fact know Christ as her Savior, but I pray she does. I pray she experienced some of Christ love through me that day.

Corina.

15. Brian. The second orphanage we went to that day was an all boys home. While there, I met Brian, a ten-year old. In a matter of a few sentences, I felt drawn to him. He wore the cutest little plaid cap, royal blue soccer jersey, and shorts. He had a smile that would melt anyone's heart. Throughout the afternoon I kept an eye on him, enjoying watching him have fun with the kids.

When it was time for us to leave, I saw him run off. I couldn't figure out why he didn't say goodbye, but I thought it was best I left. But as I stepped inside the van, there was a tug in my heart and I knew I could not go without telling him goodbye. I ran back inside the home and found Marcos, another little boy. I asked him where Brian went, and he told me he would go find him. He did, and called me to the room he was in.

As I walked in the room, Brian walked towards me. His eyes were glistening with tears, and then I understood. He didn't want me to leave.

I got down on my knees, to his level, and I took his hand. I told him I needed to leave, but I did not want to. I pulled him into a hug, and when I released him, I said goodbye. He looked at me, and tears just started flowing down his cheeks. He shook his head, no. My heart broke, and I put a hand on his cheek, stood up, and said I love you!

Walking away from that little boy about ripped my heart out. If I could adopt him, bring him back home and have Jake and I love him, I would do it in a heartbeat. For now all I can do is pray for him.

16. San Diego, The Hilton. As a surprise, Stan got us four rooms at a four-star Hilton hotel on the beaches of San Diego. It was quite the contrast between where we had lived for the last five days. It was so sharp, in fact, it made me want to go back to Mexico where all you needed was four walls, a little food, and a whole lot of love. But we enjoyed our time there, and the beds were the most comfortable thing I've slept in. Yum.

The view from our hotel room.

Us, outside the hotel.

Downtown San Diego at night.

Quite honestly, I'm still wrestling through what God taught me last week. All I know is that how He loves is how I want to love; how He serves is how I want to serve. May Mexico not be a mountain top high experience, but may the lessons we learned be implemented in our day-to-day lives here. May we be a people that love God, love people, and give Him the glory no matter where we are or what the circumstances are.

Tijuana, Mexico, you have a piece of my heart. Caravan Ministries, thank you for an amazing week of serving and teaching. Stanley, thanks for being a great leader and allowing me to flourish under that leadership. And to my high school kids, thanks for being the best little brothers and sisters a girl could ask for.

God is good, all the time.

The whole crew.

Would He Say "We're free at last?"

2011-04-04T11:59:00.001-05:00

Today marks the anniversary of the death of one of the greatest leaders the world has ever known: Martin Luther King Jr. At 6:01pm on April 4, 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee, the threatening sound of a gun shot was heard. That bullet took the life of MLK. He would have been 82 today.

Throughout my days in elementary school, I always held a special interest for specific topics including sharks, the story of the Titanic, and the Holocaust. But more than anything, I loved learning about the Civil Rights Movement. People such as Rosa Parks and the Little Rock Nine were who I looked up to. But most of all, I admired MLK.

I can remember the first time I ever heard his "I Have a Dream" speech. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms--they still do everytime I listen to it. My mind would also flood with visions of walking the streets of Memphis, marching alongside black people with pride, outwardly proclaiming my belief that human rights belonged to them just as much as any white person. If only I'd been alive during that time.

As I sit here today thinking about what an authentic leader MLK was, I can't help but wonder what he would say about the status of the world today. Would he see his dream as being fulfilled, or still having a ways to go? How would he feel about Obama? What kinds of things would he speak about today, how would he be influencing people? Would he be proud or discouraged? If only I could sit down and chat with him over coffee.

MLK was a rare gem, I believe. His insights and convictions were worthy of following, and I wish he were still around.

"I Have a Dream"

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

Let There Be EGGS

2011-03-14T16:01:00.002-05:00

This afternoon I had to do a little shopping, which I hate. There are a million other things I can think of that I would rather be doing with my time than weaving up and down aisles. It doesn't even matter what I'm purchasing, either. Whether it's food, clothes, shoes, whatever--it's just not my thing. Unfortunately, though, one can't quite survive without buying all of those necessities.

So, my to-do list today consisted of that little necessary evil, shopping. Two things that I choose to look forward to when I'm out and about, 1) crossing an item off the list and 2) finding a deal and saving money. Those two little perks make it bearable. But today...today I discovered a third thing that rejuvenated my spirits. And it only comes around once a year.

As I was finishing up my list, heading back towards the front of the store to grab my bag of lettuce and then check out, something caught my eye. There was a massive amount of purple making its way into my peripheral vision on the right. All of that color begged me to turn my head, so I did.

Easter. A whole heck of a lot of Easter is what I saw. No, I wasn't having a vision! I was seeing hundreds of pounds of chocolate bunnies, Cadbury Eggs, and jelly beans. Shelf after shelf after shelf of Easter candy. My savior had arrived!

Turning into the aisle, my eyes darted back and forth, searching for the one thing I cared about. In seconds, I saw it. The beautiful yellow and orange shiny package may or may not have caused my mouth to begin to salivate... There it was, the once-a-year taste of heaven, the

RECEES PEANUT BUTTER EGG

Do you know how much that baby cost? .50!! Fifty freakin cents, that's it. My fingers almost gravitated towards them, as if being pulled by some invisible force. Remembering my goal to watch my figure, I practiced some self-control and only bought two. But I wanted to buy them all, every single one of them.

Quickly, I made my way to the check-out, picked up my walking pace, and got to my car. Opening up one of my Eggs, only eating half of it as to savor every last bit of it, a thought dawned on me:

Do you know what the best thing in the entire world is? Easter. Think about it.

Not only did Christ die for our sins and rise again in order that we can have a personal relationship with Him, but Recees Eggs are PHE-NOMENAL, and they only come around during the time we celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus!!

In fact, I'll take it a step further.

I'm willing to bet that as Jesus sat in his tomb, probably cold as his wrappings couldn't have been that warm, he was thinking about food. I mean, I would be. Sure he's all powerful and gives breath and life, but shoot, the guy had to be hungry. Maybe his thinking went kind of like this...

"Father, boy, am I hungry! Can't I just walk straight through that huge stone already, grab some bread and fish? I mean, I know you're really into numbers, and it's only been two days, but can I pah-lease walk out of here a little earlier?"

"Son, with you I am well pleased. But not yet."

"(sigh).......Your will be done, not mine. But can I just say that when I get Home I'm celebrating with all of the angels and having a huge meal. Oh, and also, I would like to sit to your right when I get up there."

A little while later, as Jesus sits playing tic-tac-toe on the floor of his tomb, it suddenly dawns on him...

"Best. Idea. Ever! In a few centuries I'm going to create a man who is going to invent this thing called peanut butter, and another one of my wonderfully made creations will figure out what to do with those chocolate plants. Then, a few decades later, another creation of mine will combine the two of those things. He'll call it, 'Reeces Peanut Butter Cups!' And I'm sure the world will be really crooked and depraved by that time--I mean, my own disciple Peter denied me three times--so the purpose of my death and resurrection will be lost, and instead turned into a huge holiday all about candy and gifts. Just like my birthday, probably. But, because I am good, I'll use that to bless the Recees guy!! Yeah--he's going to go places...especially when I give him that idea for the Reeces Easter Egg......."

And a day later he's resurrected, centuries after that I'm sitting in my car eating the Reeces Easter Egg and thanking God for his work on the cross (Mark 16:1-20)!!!

All in all, it was a good day shopping.

Granny

2011-02-17T17:44:00.002-06:00

CRZ -- Cat Rat Zebra

Ever since I have been a little girl, I have had the privilege of having my Granny around. She has always been very involved in my life; whether she was picking me up from Meeker Elementary School and eating curly fries, sitting in a lawn chair rain or shine to watch me play soccer, or enjoying light-hearted conversation at the dinner table, my Granny has been there. And as the years have gone on, it has become something I treasure.

You see, my Granny is a special woman. She is very unlike most 90-year old women. How so? Well, she is incredibly spunky, loving, and wise. Over the last nine decades of her life, she has lived through so much. But with each experience, she has only grown into a more beautiful woman.

Her smile and all of those wrinkles simply speak of the phenomenal woman she has become. She has faced a lot of hardship in her life, and yet the light in her eyes is yet to be extinguished. Quite simply, Grandma is a source of all sorts of warm feelings and I can’t help but smile when I think about her.

I had no idea a person could take so much pride in being able to call someone their Grandma. But I do...I really, really do. I love sharing memories about my Granny with my friends; I love introducing her to people I know; I love all of the stories she has shared with me and the lessons she has taught me; I love having her come to all of my events and supporting me. Honestly, Grandma represents a major reason as to why I am proud of my family.

If there is one thing I want my Grandma to know, it would be that I have never taken her for granted, and I value having her in my life. I am proud of her, I love her to the moon and back a million times over, and the memories I have of her are worth more to me than anything could buy. She is irreplaceable.

- - - -

On February 13, 2011 Granny celebrated her 90th birthday. She was surrounded by 50 of her family and closest friends. In an afternoon full of memories being recalled, laughs being shared, and a few tears, Granny was able to see just how much she truly is treasured by so many people.

My wonderfully amazing 90-year old Grandma. What a sassy thing she is!

The Last First Day

2011-01-10T15:27:00.000-06:00

While most people would consider this story horribly embarrassing, I have chosen to embrace it. If it cracks a smile, causes a sputter of laughter, or a simple shake of the head, it's worth telling. And let's be real--things like this happen to all of us, why not be honest about it? So, here goes!

There is something about me. Something that tends to attract quirky scenarios, funny situations, and awkward moments. Basically, I'm a magnet. Thank goodness I have a sense of humor.

This morning I woke up at the CRACK of dawn. Well, actually, it was before dawn--3:47a.m. to be exact. The sun hadn't even begun to peak over the horizon yet. Needless to say, I got my day started early.

By 8:23a.m. I had prepared for school, eaten breakfast, interacted with 50+ people, took photos, grabbed a coffee, and walked across campus. And I didn't even feel tired! Not bad for a woman who needs a good 8+ hours of sleep a night.

As I arrived at the building my first two classes of the day are in, I made a bee-line to the restroom. Nothing like coffee to make a person have to use the bathroom.

Now, just as that delightful feeling of an empty bladder hit me, another realization crossed my mind at the same time: I have a really, really long scarf on..........

Yup, you guessed it, people.

A good six inches worth of my winter scarf just happened to sneak its way into the toilet bowl. While I was simply thinking back on my last 3.5 years and anticipating the next few months as I sat there, my scarf was taking a swim. The only thing I could do was giggle. That would happen.

I flushed, took my dripping scarf to the sink, doused it in water and a whole heck of a lot of soap, held it under the dryer, and made my way to class.

Why, hello, last semester of college!

Minute to Win It: Terry Edition

2010-12-26T18:38:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago I wrote about how much I love this time of the year, mostly because of family. Yesterday was Christmas day, and my sentiments remain much the same. The day was spent with lots of laughter and memories to recall for years to come.

One of which was the Terry family version of Minute to Win It, based off the television show. Our hostess, Connie, had gathered all of the necessary materials to play a few of the games, and she was well prepared to help us along in a little friendly competition! Quite simply, if you're looking for something to do at your next family gathering, I highly encourage playing this game. It's so much fun and is hysterically funny. Take a look at a few pictures from the day below, including the game.

Aunt Linda found a massive icicle! But the best part is the oven mit she's holding it with!

The gamer!

Little Becks was SO excited about his Christmas gift. Literally, he shouted out with glee.

And Mere died laughing when she opened up this gift; a shoe horn!

B-E-A-UTIFUL Willow!

Never too old to have fun.

I love my cousins very, very much!

Granny :)

The dog found a new best friend in Adam.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

Are you in control of that cookie, Auntie J?

OOOOOO

Can you say "Ahhhhh?"

This game was SO hard. No one was successful that attempted it...

Mom was the first winner!

Jake shook his trunk with all that junk!

Incredible flexibility.....

Look at that! Go Adam, go!

Little Ms. Organized was very successful in her game.

Willow attempted the cup game, but to no avail.

And then it was Cameron's turn. He did the best, but still did not capture the W.

Aunt Linda waved that box like it was her job, and it was funny to watch.

Kung-Fu Dusky!

Bobble Head--I think his neck was feeling it afterwards. He was 4 short of 125 at the end of a minute.

A MASSIVE game of Bite Me.

Dusk won! He was so fast, I only got one picture of him!

Even Granny joined the fun :)

Mere grabbed 2nd place!

Cameron was ALMOST there, but it fell in the last moment.

Mom...was a bit slow.

Granny, you got something there on your face...

Sleeping the afternoon away, father and son.

Dad was a cheater and used static to play this game. Punk.

So we made him play Junk in the Trunk. Hysterical.

Passions: A new website

2010-12-21T11:54:00.002-06:00

While Google continues to take over the world and despite its extreme usefulness to me, I have transitioned my photography website/portfolio to a new location. Google Sites allowed me to get things started, but it was time I step up the game in terms of looking professional! Knowing myself and the way I operate when it comes to technology, there is a good chance the new site will continue to be altered. But until then, enjoy Jennifer Boccella Photography at its new location!

*On a side note

The last few months of photography have been completely unexpected, but incredibly enjoyable. Having the opportunity to reconnect with old friends as well as establish new acquaintences has been so fun! But more than that is the joy I experience in capturing a family in a moment--"Capturing the essence of a moment, making it last a lifetime." I feel very honored and very humbled that people actually choose to ask me to take pictures. How cool?

The feeling a person has as they are able exercise their passions and their gifts is indescribable! It goes beyond a sense of happiness, but seeps into the realm of pure joy. Working with people, organizing shoots, taking pictures, editing photos, and presenting families with the finished product taps into so many things that I love, and I have been and continue to be completely elated.

What's even crazier is to think that this could become my career...forever! What has been a dream may be on its way to becoming a reality. With continued prayer, seeking opportunities that present themsevles, and the encouragement and support of family, friends, and clients--it just may happen. All in all, if I have learned one things it's this:

Discover what you're passionate about, what brings you joy, laughter, and motivation, and pursue it hard.

You will never regret involving yourself in something that employs the talents and love that has been instilled deep inside you. Don't be afraid to awaken that passion(s) and go for it. I'm doing it and I would never go back.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2010-12-02T11:07:00.001-06:00

If there is one thing I absolutely love, it's my family. The older I get, the more I realize just how much I A) Have an amazing family, both immediate and extended B) Enjoy being around my family C) Look forward to November--December because it means I get to spend time with them during the holidays and D) Am stinking BLESSED...I know some people don't have the same warm feelings about their family, so I treasure what I have been given.

Throughout my lifetime, I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas. It involves the top three or four "F's" I must have: Family, Food, Football and Fun. Things don't get much better than the combination of all of those! Seriously.

So, below are some pictures from the Holiday Season with my family.....

Just a cool picture of some permanent markers. Not quite holiday-esque, but still cool.

Cousin Kate just graduated from Cosmetology school, and we're taking advantage of her skills!

More cutting of Mia's hair.

Three of my favorite women! Granny, Cuz, and Auntie J.

Every year we have some kind of craft. This year it was snowmen!

Cousins Mere and Kate--simply THE best cousins in the world!

Apple crisp I made for Thanksgiving-YUM!

There were a lot of apples in that crisp....whew!

The Good Samaritan

2010-11-30T17:10:00.001-06:00

Keys, cellphone, locked. This is the typical phrase I repeat to myself every time I get out of my black 2001 Toyota RAV4. The car was given to me by my parents as a surprise for high school graduation four years ago, and it is my baby. I love this car and treat it like a person--I mean, who doesn't talk to their vehicle as if it's a human being?

Unfortunately, good ol' BamBam hasn't gotten the best of me recently. This season of life, especially this week, finds me scatterbrained, inconsiderate, and inconsistent. There are a lot of major life changes occurring all around me (i.e. sick family members, final exams approaching, graduation getting a little too close for comfort, engagements, and future talk with the boyfriend). Sure, it's an incredibly exciting time as a 22-year old, but I have never and will never claim to be one who handles change with grace.

Instead, ugly crying spells transpire, material things are often misplaced and lost, and there is a tendency to run short on patience. Really, it is a rather unappealing time to be around me. Hopefully with age comes wisdom which leads to a better perspective on change.

So, this afternoon as I parked on a residential street I have deemed as my street (it's about five blocks away from campus, allows four-hour parking, and gives me a good walk to campus), I rehearsed my phrase, "Keys, cellphone, locked." Stuffing in my earbuds and covering my head from the winter winds, I made my way to class without a second thought.

About 2.5 hours later, music playing in my ears and head still covered, I arrived back at my car. Unlocking the door, I slid inside and pulled out my earbuds. Putting away my iPod, I simultaneously turned on the ignition. No sound, no action, nothing. Some of the worse kind of silence a girl can hear. Looking at all the knobs and do-wads, I saw the problem: the headlights were left on.

CRAP. I'M AN IDIOT.

Pulling my cellphone out of my pocket, I called mom. Unfortunately, she was busy at the moment and couldn't do anything for me. Dad was M.I.A as he has been in the hospital and the boyfriend was in class. CRAP.

Then it occurred to me that I was parked about a block and a half away from where my past roommates fiance lives. Not only does he live close, but he is a gentleman of a guy and I had no doubt he would be willing to help. So, I called up Jenna Rae to see if she was at his place. Out of luck. She was at home and getting ready to head for work. However, like a gem she called Kyle up just in case, but found out he was sitting in a meeting. Again, CRAP.

As I sat in my freezing cold car, no gloves on and fingers bare, I mentally went through all of the people I could call. Luckily, I have a lot of great girlfriends and I have a lot of great girlfriends who are dating great boyfriends. I attempted to enlist the help of about five different people.......with no luck.

Starring down at my cellphone and trying to come up with some kind of plan, I sensed movement out of the corner of my left eye. A man and his wife were just getting into their parked truck and pulling out of the driveway. As they aligned next to my car, he rolled down his window.

"Is your battery dead?"

"Yes..."

With that, the man hit reverse and backed up into his driveway once again. He got out and yelled to me, "Pop the hood!" I did as he said.

Next thing I know, the man was at my car with one of those re-charge battery box-like things (I never said I know anything about cars!). He poked his head into my hood and said, "Where's the battery?" Just as he spoke the words, I remembered struggling to find it the last time--it's a corker of a thing. The only thing I could think to do was call up my pops.

"Hello"

"Dad...my battery died. I left my lights on, and this nice gentleman is here to help me, but we can't find the battery."

"Oh, yes... I remember this happened before. Well, Toyota makes their RAV4's with a cover over the battery. There are six nuts to unscrew."

Looking for the covering, I find it.

"I see it. So, that has to be unscrewed?" The man hears this conversation, see's the problem, and says, "I'm going to go get a screwdriver."

The RAV4 hood. The top left is a plastic cover, which is where the battery lies.

"Dad, this is the dumbest thing. Who puts a cover over the battery?!"

"I know. I can call Butch's for you. It's hard to get off."

"Well, just wait--this guy is going to help. Here he comes. I'll call ya later."

This wonderfully helpful man gets to work on the screws. As he is twisting away, he asked me, "So, are you a student here?" I said yes, and he begins to tell me that he has four kids himself, that they moved to Ames in 1981, and have been here since. I mention I've grown up here as well, and he says, "Is that right?"

He continues to twist and said, "We just went down to my daughters place. She cooked up a real nice Thanksgiving meal. All my kids and grandkids were there. Well, that is except for my son. He is in Afghanistan." Asking him a little more about that, he says, "He just left two weeks ago. He's in the Marine Corps. He's supposed to be home in July of 2011." All I could manage to say is, "Wow."

Then, he tells me to hop in my car and he'll give me the signal when ready. I held the drivers door open with my foot and wait for the que. About two minutes later, he says, "Hit it!"

I turn the key, and it was music to my ears! The purr of the engine...or...sputter...started and I knew I was good to go. AWESOME!!!

Hopping out of my car, I come around to the hood and exclaimed my thankfulness for his help and time! He asks, "Who were you calling for help?" I tell him I was trying a few people, but was hoping to get my roommates fiance who lives a few blocks away, and that my own boyfriend was in class. He started laughing and says, "Boyfriends are good for nothin!" Laughing with him, I agree, "You're right--dad's can never be replaced!"

Then I ask, "What's your name?" He tells me his name is Len, and then I ask, "Is that your wife in your truck?" He says it is indeed, and so I say, "Well, thanks so much again. You tell your wife she's got a real good husband!!" Laughing, he makes his way back towards his truck.

Shutting my drivers door, I pull away from the curb and wave at his wife who has patiently been waiting in the truck this whole time. She waves back, and I drive away with a huge smile on my face.

----

Len, if you read this, thank you. You were so kind, gentle, and helpful. You clearly love your family and I appreciate that your father-instinct kicked in big time when you saw me. It's because of men like you that I feel safe. I'll be thinking about your son in Afghanistan, and I hope that he returns home safely to you. I bet not a day goes by that he doesn't think of you, and I'm sure he is just as proud to call you "Dad" as you are to call him "Son." If there ever was such a thing as a good samaritan, it's you. Thanks, and Happy Holidays.

Oh, and my new phrase will now consist of Keys, cellphone, LIGHTS, locked.

Holiday Cheer: I love Christmas!

2010-11-19T09:13:00.001-06:00

When you have exams to study for, papers to write, and projects to complete, what better way to spend your time than cranking up the Christmas music and getting yourself into the Holiday spirit! Besides, if we're all honest with one another, what's more important, anyways? The birth of Jesus or analyzing politeness strategies between male and female politicians? No question...a baby in a manger.

So, for seniors in college everywhere who suffer from extreme cases of senioritius and for all of those who love this time of the year...this one is for you! Happy Holidays!

A Woman's Week at the Gym (Funniest Email I've Ever Received!)

2010-10-12T16:02:00.003-05:00

**Some of the language contained in this email I received is some of which I do not approve; I apologize in advance**

A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM If you read this email without laughing out loud, there is something wrong with you. This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.

Dear Diary,

For my birthday this year, my Husband (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.

Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started. The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

________________________________

MONDAY:

Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god - with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week !! ________________________________

TUESDAY:

I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT !! It's a whole new life for me.

_______________________________

WEDNESDAY:

The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?

Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. He said some other shit too.

_______________________________

THURSDAY:

Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late - it took me that long to tie my shoes.

He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. He sent some skinny little bitch to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing

machine -- which I sank.

_________________________________

FRIDAY:

I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little aerobic instructor. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't

have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the

floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.

The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

__________________________

SATURDAY:

Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up

catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

________________________________

SUNDAY:

I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun -- like a root canal or a hysterectomy. I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds !!!

Dear You

2010-09-24T15:41:00.002-05:00

Dear you,

It’s a moment I replay,

Over and over again

Why won’t it fade away?

Why do I play the games?

As much as I wanted to,

Something stopped me

Why do I wish it hadn’t?

Why can’t I let it go?

I’m angry with him,

For protecting me

Why didn’t he give you a chance?

Why couldn’t he see what I saw?

I invested in you,

And you made me feel beautiful

When will I move forward?

When do I stop wishing to go back?

I gave you my heart,

And I can’t make it whole

When is it over?

When do I move on?

You did one over on me,

But you have no idea

When will you let me go?

When do you leave the pieces?

What do I have left to learn?

What’s the purpose?

What’s next?

It’s time to say goodbye.

Jennifer Boccella Photography

2010-09-22T13:11:00.002-05:00

A hobby is quickly becoming a passion and blowing all expectations through the roof! Here's how:

I grew up loving photography. How often have I experienced something with family or friends and thought, "I wish this would last forever"? Too many times. So, the idea that a moment packed with emotion can be encapsulated forever thrills me. To have the opportunity to snap a photo and come back to it over and over again, simply to remember and recall a moment is a beautiful thing.

When I got into high school, I had the opportunity to take advantage of our great art program. I enrolled in a photography course my junior year, learning basic photography concepts. In fact, I even got to develop my own film in our schools red room! Super cool. The love for pictures, both still and motion, really took off.

However, it wasn't until this year when an unexpected blessing from my uncle allowed me to pursue that love even more, specifically in photography. In an amazing way, I was given one of my favorite gifts in my 22 years of life--a digital SLR camera, a Nikon D5000. It. Is. Phenomenal. I'm considering it the building block for future purchases!

Within days of getting my new toy, I asked friends to pose as models. I only wanted to use them as a means of learning the camera. Well, my Father in heaven who intricately created me, placing those talents, passions, and gifts in me, got to work on my behalf.

Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." What an amazing truth that I've gotten to experience! While I continue to walk in the way of the Lord, keeping my gaze on Him, He's orchestrated some wonderful things in a matter of days and weeks with photography! An official shoot for family friends, the Houck's, has opened the door for more than I could have asked or imagined for. I am experiencing the thrill of applying my passions which Christ put in my heart in a totally unexpected way. Joy and gratefulness fill my soul!

Not to mention the help of friends who were willing to take a risk on me, who have given me financial advice, who have encouraged me, and who have been walking/talking advertisements!

So, in all humility and gratefulness it pleases me to announce a new personal business of sorts:

Jennifer Boccella Photography

I have absolutely no idea where this will take me, if anywhere. All I can say is I love to capture the essence of a moment, making it last a lifetime. If you're willing, jump on board and let me help you hold on to those special memories.

Why, Hello Senior Year. So Nice of You to Finally Arrive.

2010-08-22T21:10:00.002-05:00

It's that time. I'm nine months away from walking across a stage with a diploma in hand, declaring that I have a degree in Communication Studies/Journalism from Iowa State University. And I couldn't be more excited or ready. It's with great anticipation that I look forward to tomorrow morning--the first day of my senior year of college.

In order to reflect on the last three years and prepare for my final year, I've decided to write a blog; shocking, I know. The only thing is, it's going to be done a bit more creatively than normal. Please enjoy and join me in a grand exclamation of "LET'S GET IT STARTED!!"

Originally, my collegiate career kicked off at the University of Northern Iowa (UNI). I chose to go there because it wasn't too Far Away from home, yet still made me feel like I had Gone somewhere I could grow up; to be a big girl. Within those first few weeks if you had asked me, "Do you like it?" I wouldn't have said, "I Like It." Instead, with a strong conviction I would've replied, "I LOVE IT!"

Why? Here are a few simple answers:

1) My roommate, Laura McCasland. Now, she was Some Kind of Wonderful. Not only did she unconditionally love me for me, but we laughed like no other. She would even Bailamos with me! She continues to be one of my best friends.

2) Mallory, Kitty, Teckie. Three more best friends--you don't wish on Airplanes for women like this in your life; you say to God, "Thank You For Hearing Me." And Joy, Caitlin, BT. And Erin, Austin, Keegan. And Jess, Christine, Becky, Morgan, Abbey, Katie, Ashley, Erin, Brittany, Mandy, Megan, and on and on it goes.... All of these girls, I just knew when I met them--I Could Not Ask for More.

3) Maria "Blondie" Lovin. Easily, one of the best "big sisters" I've ever had and will ever have. She was Simply the Best. In fact, Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me? It's only Once In a Lifetime you get to meet such a Sweet Thing.

Well...as much as I would like to say the list goes on, I loved UNI simply because of the people. And that wasn't reason enough to Stay. The Dreamer in me began to explore other possibilites. After a year and a half at UNI, I made the transfer back Home to Iowa State University (ISU). Although it was Hard to Say Goodbye, I'm Lucky to have some of the best friends in The World from UNI Forever and Always.

As I stepped foot onto campus at ISU, I was terrified. Although it was a Beautiful, Beautiful campus, it was A Whole New World. OMG. I had no idea how CyRide worked (and it turns out I found myself driving one of those huge buses only a few months later!), no clue how to find my classes, and no sense of belonging. I was Never Alone, constantly surrounded by thousands of people, but the first few weeks were so lonely. I was All By Myself. Many nights I just went home to Cry.

However, God was anything but Unfaithful. He quietly reminded me, "Baby, You've Got What It Takes. I know the desires of you're heart, and I am faithful! Keep your eyes set on Me and be confidant in who I created you to be." With that, I decided Imma Be eager to dream Crazy Dreams and see what God does.

Before long, this Good Girl Gone Bad. JUST KIDDING. I Gotta Feeling that made you nervous, reading that. That's How You Know I'm enjoying myself as I write this!

Back to the real story.

God actually began to give The Answer to my prayer; it came in the form of developing new relationships with California Gurls...oops, I mean Iowa State girls--especially those involved with The Salt Company (TSC). I am Forever grateful for how The Prayer of my heart was answered to the Nth degree.

I went from feeling Dark Blue to as if Today (and everyday) Was a Fairytale!

Alright, people. This is Where The Blacktop Ends...err, I mean blog. It's getting too close to bedtime before I start school. I'd love to share more about my experiences at ISU or UNI, so feel free to ask. But all I have to say is that God is SO GOOD. I have seen Him answer specific prayers, provide specific needs, and do more than I could ever ask or imagine for. Of one thing I am certain: He knows the plans He has for my life. Despite the sometimes difficult process of being transformed into His likeness, God works for the good of all things. I will continue to pursue Him in all excellence, with integrity, and creativity. May He open my eyes and pour over me wisdom that will allow me to see where He is at work and join Him there. I will stand In Christ Alone, living in the grace that comes from the fact that Jesus Paid It All.

"Pop" Goes My Knee

2010-07-31T12:26:00.002-05:00

Over the last five years there is a sound I have grown to hate: "pop." In my experience, that simple, quick, and barely audible noise has represented a lot of pain, both physically and emotionally. That sound continually alters my life and challenges my thinking.

The first time I heard it was my junior year of high school. It was a couple of weeks before the State soccer tournament, and we were practicing penalty kicks in the event a game would come down to that. As I brought my right leg back and swung it forward in a powerful stride, in mid-air I heard a "pop" and felt immediate pain in my knee. I fell to the ground, grabbing my knee and rolling in agony.

As my coach and teammates surrounded me, it felt like an out of body experience. It was as if I was looking down on the entire scene, watching from a birds eye view. I'll never forget it.

Over the next few hours, days, and weeks, I had numerous doctors appointments and hours of physical therapy. Without a doubt I had THE best doctor (Doc Greenwald) and PT's (Chris Hanfelt and Tarra Rawdon) in the entire world and I owe much of my recovery to their expertise and care. Not to mention all of my friends and family. All in all, I experienced vast amounts of love and support.

Despite all of the good stuff, it wasn't easy.

My first stay in the hospital after surgery, I had an overwhelming amount of visitors. As much as I appreciated that, we didn't know any better and it left me exhausted. Later that first night I was horribly tired and extremely sore, and trying to use the commode. As I stood up, I was unaware that I had caught my IV, ripping it out of my vein. The experience of seeing my own blood spraying everywhere, covering my sheets, the floor, everything, left me traumatized.

Then, I remember sitting on the sidelines at our game in Johnston. As Jo Eggert put in a last minute goal sending us to State, the emotions I experienced were incredible. On one hand I was bursting with pride and excitement, but on the other hand I was utterly devastated. All year I had worked hard to help get our team to that point, and we finally did it. But I wouldn't be able to compete. As I limped towards the center of the field to join my celebrating teammates, one of my best friends/teammates, Sarah Brimeyer, grabbed me in a hug and just held on tightly. She didn't say a word, and she didn't have to. She just cried with me. Another moment I will never forget.

By the end of the summer, I was well on my way to being ready to go for my senior year of soccer. It had taken a lot of hard work and encouragement, but I was looking forward to it.

Midway through my senior year, I received a couple of letters with schools offering me scholarships to play in college. It was an idea I was entertaining, even leaning towards. Soccer was a sport I loved, why not continue playing into college?

As things would go, a year and a day to when I had torn my right ACL, we found ourselves at the end of the season and looking towards going to the State tournament for another consecutive year. This time we were playing in Waukee and we were in overtime with only minutes left in the game. I was facing our goal, watching a ball headed towards me, but going over my head. As I turned to follow the ball, pivoting off of my left leg, I heard that all too familiar sound:"pop." I immediately fell to the ground, and felt my eyes welling with tears, more out of what that sound meant than the pain. My teammate, Natalie Hashemi, knelt down next to me. As trainer Tarra made her way to me, I heard Nat tell her, "I think it was her ankle." I was shaking my head, saying "No, no, no. It was my knee. I heard my knee pop."

I was carried over to the sideline, and I was quietly in shock. Trying so hard not to cry, I remember coach hardly said two words to me. In my heart I knew it was my ACL. Seeing a doctor didn't seem necessary to me, I knew.

We got back to Ames late that night, maybe 11pm. Yet, Doc Greenwald came to the high school anyways to check out my knee. Not only did he come, but my best friend was there by my side, Mandy Winkleblack. He did the little ACL test and said it didn't look good, but I would need to do an MRI to be sure. What I knew in my heart was confirmed by the MRI; my senior year of high school I tore my left ACL.

I hardly remember much about the second time around. It's a blur. I do know I had the same amount of support and love from family, friends, my doctor, and my physical therapist. I am also completely aware that the second time was much more emotionally difficult. Mostly because it was my senior year and all of "my plans" seemed to be crashing down. I would miss out on the State tournament again and the dreams of playing soccer in college were no more.

The realization that much of my identity was in my ability to play soccer came become obvious, too. God used that experience to show me where my focus was, what my life had been centered on. It was difficult to recognize, but looking back I am grateful because it only deepened my relationship with Christ as I moved into college.

Unfortunately for me, I tend to deal with emotional issues weeks or even months after they happen. It takes me awhile to sift through my emotions, and when I do, it hits me like a ton of bricks. So, freshman year of college when I was back in town over Thanksgiving break, I was driving home and the emotions flooded in. I was angry. I was let down. I was confused. I was disappointed. Like a torrential rain the tears came. In a weird way it felt good to let it all out.

I continued PT while I was at UNI, eventually gaining back the muscle to my quads and calves. Over the next two years I continued to gain strength and confidence in my body, even playing intramural tennis, basketball, bowling, and flag football. Then, over this last summer I started to run and saw my old quad muscles truly making their way back--it was so exciting!

When I was approached about playing an adult rec soccer league this summer, I signed on but with some hesitancy. As much as I love the sport, my paranoia of getting hurt was almost enough to keep me from playing. However, I bucked up and signed up.

And it was a blast. Not only was I playing again, but I had the opportunity to run around the field with some of the guys from high school. These boys are so fun to watch, let alone get a chance to play beside. The end of the season is within a couple of games, a summer of fun. My season ended early.

Last week in a rec game, I was dribbling towards goal on a 1v1. I brought my right leg back, swung it forward in a shot, planted my right foot, and felt that inevitable sound: "pop." I knelt down, and held back the tears. Again, not because of the pain, but because I knew what it meant. I was pretty confident it wasn't my ACL, but I knew it was something.

By the next morning, I couldn't really walk, and bending or straightening it was impossible. I made a "surprise" visit to Chris that afternoon. As he looked me over, I had my mom and another best friend at my side, Anna Greenwald. Looking back, funny how God continually placed people next to me in moments I needed someone there.

I know Chris well enough to know the looks he gets on his face. As he prodded, pulled, pushed my right leg, his forehead and eyes clearly told me it wasn't good. Once again, I held back tears out of knowing more than the pain.

The next morning, I saw Doc Greenwald. He too had a look on his face that said he wasn't happy, and informed me that I would need scope surgery asap. Luckily, he was 95% sure it wasn't my ACL, but wouldn't know for sure until he got in there. Next thing I knew, I was headed for surgery Friday morning.

It had been four years since I had done anything to my knee. In four days I went from feeling a "pop" to going under for surgery.

The third time around I was a pro. I came out of recovery quickly, and according to the nurses, I did "just wonderful, you're making it easy for us!" Scope surgery compared to ACL is a piece of cake, and I was home and walking that afternoon.

But the emotions have been rough.

One of the worst parts this time was knowing that it could have been my ACL. That scares me. Doc Greenwald came in and showed me pictures from surgery. He pointed out my strong looking ACL, but mentioned the bright red portion. He said, "You sure tried hard to tear that ACL again."

To know I was that close to doing it a third time scares me. I won't go there mentally.

However, I am, without a shadow of a doubt, aware of Gods sovereignty and know He has my best interests in mind. I do not doubt that. In fact, I'm excited to see how this is used in my life. But it doesn't make it easy.

Once again I am angry, confused, frustrated, and sad. Feeling like it's another step backwards is beyond frustrating to me. I know SO many other people have it SO much worse than I do, but I can't help feeling let down. Another opportunity for Jenn to learn patience, perseverance, and trust. My response is in my control.

And with a pure conviction I have one thing to say:

I hate the sound of "pop."

Cover Story

2010-07-30T15:44:00.000-05:00

Check out the August 2010 issue of Facets!

I've got the cover story: an interview with Carol Hoiberg. It was a wonderful experience, and I hope people enjoy reading the Q&A as much as I loved getting to do it!

Dressing Room Fun

2010-07-17T14:41:00.003-05:00

Earlier this week I went on a mini shopping spree (which, by the way, ended up being very successful!). On two different occasions throughout the afternoon I stood in my four-by-four dressing room and overheard some of the funniest conversations of my entire life. After hearing a few brief sentences I thought, "Maybe it is worth having kids just because of the humor!"

The first experience was a mother with her two little boys. As I pulled on a pair of pants I was trying on, I heard the following conversation:

Mom: Here, you two come in here with me.

Matthew (maybe 8-years old): Mom, there's a chair out here, can't I just sit here?

Mom: Fine. This won't take long. Jake, come with me.

::The sound of a dressing room door shutting::

Matthew: (humming, beating feet against the floor)

Mom: Matthew, can you please stop making that noise?

::Noise stops::

Jake (maybe 5-years old): Mom, I know why they put these walls up.

Mom: Yeah? Why's that?

Jake: So you can't see each others private parts!

Mom: (laughing) That is true.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I had to hold in my laughter, biting my tongue so hard. Too cute.

Later that afternoon I was in the dressing room for the second time and overheard this conversation between a mother and her daugther:

Mom: Thank you for being patient. After this we'll go look for you.

Little girl: Yeah. Okay.

::The sound of clothes coming off of the hanger::

Little girl: And my sister is going to go to school. And I like my dad. I don't know what he does, but I like him.

Mom: Who are you talking to?

Little girl: Duuuh, Charlie! He's right here!

Mom: (trying not to laugh) Ohhh, Charlie....who's that?

Little girl: He's my friend!

Again, BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Who doesn't love imaginary friends--especially when they're boys in the dressing room ;)

All in all, a highly entertaining afternoon! Kids might be worth it...Or maybe I just need to hang out in dressing rooms more often!

Girl Meets Curl

2010-07-05T17:51:00.006-05:00

It only took me 21, almost 22, years...but I've finally done it. I put it off long enough, claiming it was "too girly" and then as I got older it was "too hard to learn." Well, now that I am less than twelve months away from being a woman in the real world, enough was enough. Those days are over.

I bought a curling iron.

Not that straight and pulled up aren't nice styles. Shoot, they've been my standby's for the last two decades! The only problem is the rest of the world seems to have gotten more creative.

So, it's time for me to learn how to curl my hair--and it is going to be one long process. The long piece of shiny, silver metal that heats up in 30 seconds is, supposedly, easy to use. Right. Well, maybe if the person managing the tool knew what they were doing.

Instead, a task that would take the average woman 10-15 minutes took me close to 30-40--and that doesn't even include the time I spent watching "How to" videos on YouTube.

I parted, I sectioned, twisted, pulled, waited, and released. Personally, I thought I was doing a fabulous job; unfortunately, it's not as easy as it looks. I had pieces of hair flipped out, some turned under, others seemed to remain straight. And the back of my head? Well, that's another story for another day--let's just say I'm banking on the fact that the statement "Practice makes perfect" will hold true.

However, I must say it is a tool that appears to have many uses:

1. Who doesn't get a HOT curling iron in their hands and think of Star Wars and use it as a light-saber? Awesome.

2. Of course any good tool in the bathroom can be used as a microphone because, let's be honest, here--we all know that we love to stand in front of the mirror and belt out our favorite songs. "Love Story" anyone?

3. And like any good tomboy, I know how to make a sport out of any thing in the world! Including metal hair tools.

All in all, despite being an athlete through and through with little to no interest in "feminine products," with a little more practice, I will be smokin hot by anyone's standards! Let's hope I don't end up with any burns.........fingers crossed.

Thanks, But No Thanks: Days...are over

2010-07-01T16:12:00.002-05:00

Alright, people, here's the deal: I am not a runner.

I gave it my best shot, trying it for a month and a half. In that time I was dedicated and committed to my training program. In fact, I am proud to say I stuck with it much longer than I anticipated I would--typically, if I feel like I'm not good at something I don't stick with it. I think I broke some kind of personal record.

More than anything, though, I learned a lot about myself. For example...

I don't like to run with headphones in. I mean, who doesn't want to listen to themselves gasping for oxygen?

Why would I run in anything besides spandex capris? There are no wedgies of any kind and my thighs don't show. Genius.

I absolutely hate running on major roads--getting honked, yelled, and whistled at is not my idea of fun.

Having a stopwatch is really helpful for me.

I tend to run better early in the morning or late in the evening. The whole afternoon thing just doesn't work.

In general I think...a lot. My mind is a constant swirl of thoughts as I sort out my emotions. Running seems to enhance that process. All of you should be thanking God for that right now.

Running is a great time for prayer and scripture memory.

I am capable of accomplishing something when I really want to. As much as I didn't think I was a driven person, I am when I want to be.

I have perfection issues. If it's not fast enough, long enough, hard enough...it's not good enough. Hey--I'm still a work in process.

Being healthy is extremely important to me. I may never be an Iron Woman kind of gal, but exercising must be a way of life for me.

I still need to learn the balance of working to be healthy, but not being consumed with thoughts about my body and comparing myself to others. What works for you may not work for me and that's okay.

I am a woman created in God's image, fully loved and fully accepted just as I am--even with a few extra pounds, sharp curves, and a bodacious back side. I'll work what I've got and work it with pride!

All in all, it was a great experience. I started on a journey to living a healthy lifestyle, discovered what kind of running/walking works for ME and what I enjoy doing, and logged more miles in 1.5 months than I have in 21 years. Pretty good stuff.

Although I will no longer be blogging about my training specifically, I guarantee I will continue to write. I am sure I will have many more experiences related to working out and health that I will want share--shoot, let's hope so!

But for now, this wannabe runner is signing off and saying ADIOS to RUNNING and HELLO to walking, cycling, jogging, kenpo.............and an assortment of other goodies.

No Good, Very Bad, Horrible Day: Days 37-39

2010-06-16T16:42:00.004-05:00

*WARNING: THIS POST WAS WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER A WORKOUT WHILE FRUSTRATION RAN HIGH*

Well. I have said it before, and I will say it again: I am not a runner. I have never been, and I never will be, a runner. Plain and simple as that. As much as thought I could train my body to do it, I just do not think it's going to happen.

Yesterday I did 2mi in 20:00, running the first mile at a 9:15 pace--I felt very good about that, but I almost died. As I was heaving, it occurred to me that I have no idea how to pace myself. I have one speed: quick. That doesn't work when the number of minutes I run begins to increase. After 3 minutes I'm sucking air and can't breathe--which means I hardly make it 7 or 8 minutes of straight running. Not to mention by the time I get to the third repetition of walk 2-3 minutes, run 7-8, I usually quit because I'm exhausted, my knees hurt, and I have shin splints.

Speaking of shin splints...another reason why I hate running and will never be a runner. Whoever said that being athletic "is 10% physical and 90% mental," or however the saying goes, can shove it. This afternoon I was on a WALK for my rest day, and I had shooting pain up my shins. This quote crossed my mind and I got pissed. Don't tell me to push past it mentally--screw that.

Essentially, today I found myself very angry. I am discouraged because I feel like I'm seeing no results. I have put a lot of work and effort into this training program, yet I don't see much of a difference. The first few weeks were exciting because I was noticing results, and each week got easier. I'm at a point now, though, that each week is harder, making me enjoy it less and less.

I am not getting faster. Running is not getting easier. My body is in more pain than it has been in months. I feel exhausted often. I no longer look forward to running.

This may be a culmination of things--am I getting the right nutritionally balanced diet? Do I need to run at the same time every time? Is it better for me to run in the morning, or at night? Am I simply at a plateau and need to push through? I wish I knew the answer.

Prior to this training, I knew I would have "bad days." But this is getting to a point every day is a bad day, and I end up more pissed off after a workout. What is the deal?

Oh, and... Not to mention that I have realized that since I started running on a routine basis, I am more aware of my body than I have been in my entire life--and it is HORRIBLE. I have always been confident, never really having self-image issues. But for the first time in my life, this is not the case. Ironically, as I continue to run, instead of feeling more confident, I am becoming hyper-conscious. I can't believe that women live with these kinds of consuming thoughts for years.......

I will never be a stick person, I will probably never weigh less than 135 pounds. I will always have thunder thighs and extra skin in the crease of my armpit/chest area. Cellulite will find a way to creep its way into my life, and I might have the mom flab rocking even now at age 21. Get over it. My body does not define who I am. Yes, I need to take care of it, yes I want to remain healthy. I have seen what choosing a lifestyle opposite of that does to someone, and I will not go down that road; however, I also refuse to be so hyper-conscious of everything that is "wrong" with my body.

So WHAT if I can't run for further than 2.5-3 miles and it takes me 30:00 to do so. So WHAT if I have to walk after running for five minutes. So WHAT if I'm a size 8 and not getting smaller.

I'm gonna run as slow as I like, walk when I want to, even stop if I have to. I will eat the things I enjoy, take rest days, and might forget to do an ab workout. I am who I am....and that is not a marathon runner. Simply, I am a woman who wants to take care of her body and remain healthy.

Good to Ugly: Days 31-36

2010-06-13T17:47:00.002-05:00

Day 34: Awesome. I went for 40 minutes and made it about 3.4 miles--h0wever I did a lot of walking for an extended period of time. I was on the phone having chatty time with my best friend, as it was a rough day for the both of us. Walking and talking is a great, great way to decompress--I highly recommend it.

Day 36: Sucked. If I was a sailor, my mouth would be going, going, going and gone right about now. I don't know what it was about today, but it was probably the worst day I've had in training to this point. Maybe it's the time of day, it might the treadmill, or possibly the lack of energy my body has right now. I have no idea. I feel extremely angry though--yes, I get angry when I have a bad workout...like, super angry. Weird, huh? I'm glad I never experienced a run this bad early on in training. I definitely would have quit.

Yours truly,

Jenn "Right-now-I-hate-running-with-every-fiber-of-my-being" Boccella

Good to be Back: Days 28-30

2010-06-11T11:06:00.002-05:00

The training continues!

This week I jumped from running for five minutes to SEVEN minutes (what happened to six?), and interestingly, I can do it! Granted, the last rotation of running/walking I begin to suck wind big time, but I'm finishing.

Most exciting for me this week, though, was the fact that Adult Rec Soccer League started. For the first time since I tore my second ACL four years ago, I played a game of soccer.

It was an interesting experience.

Physically, well... Let's just say that my body doesn't remember how to move like it used to. The muscles of my legs are gone, my ability to sprint has disappeared, and my hips...don't remember how to lie. It was kind of depressing to play and be incapable of playing at the level I did a few years ago. Shoot. How I miss the abilities my 18-year old body once had!

Good news is that this training has benefited me in terms of being able to play at least half the game--44 minutes. The only thing is, soccer is more about short, quick movements, a lot of sprinting. I think it would be beneficial for me to mix in training days of sprinting workouts, too.

The best parts about the experience were:

1) I DID it. I've been so scared of playing again that it just felt good to finally do it.
2) Playing with two of my old teammates I played with elementary through high school years
3) Having fun on our co-ed team, playing with guys I've known for years
4) By the end of the game, things started to come back to me and it was just stinking fun!

So, although I've continued with training as far as running is concerned, this week was most fun because of soccer. It's good to be back on the field--despite being older and slower :)

Happy One Month: Days 25-27

2010-06-04T10:13:00.004-05:00

Drum roll, please..........

ONE MONTH COMPLETED!!!

Running 5" x 4, walking 2-3" x 5 for a total of 30"

Officially, I feel like a big deal. Today marks the one month anniversary between my cardiovascular system, my on-their-way-to-being-muscular-again legs, Aasics running shoes, and the pavement. I wasn't sure if I would make it this far, so to be here feels really, really good. Like, really good. I did it! And I'm still going! Call me the Energizer Bunny.

Also, not to mention the fact that I've been SICK this week. I couldn't breathe very well because of congestion, but I kept running. I felt like I had to, but there was definitely a part of me that wanted to. I was talking to one of my best friends about it, Mandy, and she said to me, "J, I know you're driven but you need to slow down and rest your body!!"

As she said that, she got me to thinking (I've discovered running is a really good time to think, which I always seem to need to do).

I'm not sure I would characterize myself as a "driven" person. Yes, I have goals and I'm self-motivated, but I think that is different than being driven. I hear that word and I think of a person who sees something they want to do or accomplish and they go after it hard. No matter where they find themselves, they're all in.

Interestingly, within the last few months I've had more than one person tell me they love how I'm "all in" with the things I do, or have said something about my "drive." Each time I heard a compliment like that, it was in one ear and out the other. I completely dismissed it.

But last night at the TSC kick-off, I was really convicted.

Looking at different things throughout my life, I do think there have been seasons of life that I could characterize myself as a driven person. I know what it feels like to set a goal and run after it, hard. It feels really, really good. Maybe a better way to describe it would be that there is a sense of "Yes, this is who I am, this is what I'm supposed to be doing." Hopefully you know what I'm talking about. It just feels right.

I felt it when I tore my ACL's and worked hard to get back in shape at physical therapy; I feel it when I write; I felt it when I wanted to work at CyRide and got my CDL; I feel it when I get over myself and all of my worries and anxieties and look to encourage someone who needs it; I felt it when I wanted to step off of leadership last semester and persevered; I feel it as I continue this training program.

The thing that got me last night at TSC was that I should be driven all the time, in every season of life, in everything that I do. My attitude needs to be one of "I'm all in" at all times.

Then what is it that stops me from living that way?

Fear.

Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of change.

I like to think I'm a pretty confident woman, but don't get me wrong. I am far from perfect. Worry and anxiety tend to take root in my life, and it leads to fear and doubt which then leaves me feeling paralyzed to do anything--let alone feeling driven to accomplish anything.

When that happens, essentially what I'm saying is, "God, I don't think you're big enough or powerful enough or great enough to handle this. I'm too scared and I don't trust you right now." I find a lot in common with Timothy in terms of feeling shy and doubtful, and I appreciate the letter Paul wrote to him as he sat in jail--I feel like it was a letter written to me.

Grace, mercy, and peace. Those are three things I get to experience in God the Father and Christ Jesus. I believe that if I can understand and truly experience those three things, my life and the way I live will radically change.

2 Timothy 1:6-7 says,

"For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying of my hands, for God gave us a spirit not of fear, but of power and love and self-control."

Two verses which I plan on clinging to this summer, and for life. I pray the way I live my life fans into flame the gift of God--as I experience his grace, mercy, and peace, I won't be able to do anything but be defined by Him. I also pray that I would not have a spirit of fear which is birthed out of my worries, but that I would recognize that I have been given a spirit of power, love, and self-control.

All in all, who knew running would lead to thinking which would lead to God speaking directly to my heart? Maybe I will run more often.

Having a Bad Day?

2010-06-04T09:12:00.002-05:00

I came across this YouTube video this morning and I absolutely love it. Not only is it extremely cute, but this little girl is on to something. Shoot, next time I wake up and feel less than excited about the day ahead, I'm just going to stand in front of my bathroom mirror and list off all of the things I like about my life. What a concept. Check it out.

Sick & Still Kickin! Days 22-24

2010-06-01T11:48:00.004-05:00

Unfortunately, it's allergy season. And for the last couple of days, it's gotten the best of me. Down and out with a plugged up nose, a thick sore throat, ear ache, sneezing, and coughing. Ewww. Overall, my Memorial Day weekend was less than exciting as I spent most of it watching television and sleeping...bum!!

Oh--actually, through hours of watching "Cake Boss" on TLC, I learned that
1) Italians talk loud. ALL the time.
2) Even grown men act like boys when it comes to an Italian Mama
3) Mama rules the kitchen
4) Jersey accents plus Italian accents is a recipe for loud and obnoxious
5) When it comes to seahorses, it's actually the MALES that give birth!
It's a rockin' awesome show to watch, especially when you're sick and have nothing better to do.

I didn't run Sunday because I had a really bad blister and didn't feel well. Monday I didn't run because I was down and out, plus it was an off day. By the time I got to today, Tuesday, I needed to move my body.

Although it was only half the time for fear of running my body down more (16 minutes), it still felt good. I ran for 2 minutes at an 8:34 pace x 4, and walked for 4 minutes x 2.

Again, the fact I don't feel 100% and wanted to get up and run is a big deal to me. Shoot, who the heck am I?! Next thing I know, I'll be doing the Iron Man competition... (baaahahahah).

All in all, I have two words:

Be Italian.

I Love My Job

2010-05-30T15:32:00.002-05:00

Working in "The Cave" with Ben, Dan, and Lance is a very fun experience, to say the least. They are some of the neatest guys with a unique sense of humor--which means I have the best job all summer. I caught some of it on video, take a listen!!

Flying on Angels Wings: Day 18-21

2010-05-30T15:09:00.002-05:00

It's been a few days since I have written, but I have still been keeping up with my training. Officially, I have completed 3 weeks and I am still going strong. Holler!!! In fact, I'm getting to the point I actually look forward to running, I want to do it, and it feels great. My body is slowly changing in composition, slowly...very slowly...but it's changing. I am continuing to run faster and harder for longer periods of time which is awesome. Never in a million years did I think that would happen.

Which is why the last few runs I swear I'm flying on angles wings.

Yesterday I ran on the treadmill again (since it was HOT HOT HOT), which meant I didn't have to contend with any environmental or weather issues. I'm sure that plays a part into why I ran so fast. Oh, and not to mention I was running off quite a bit of pent up anger and frustration--who knew those emotions would be such great motivation, I should get frustrated more often.

Anyways, turns out... For the first time in YEARS, I ran a 9:26 mile. What?! All in all, being able to run at the 6.2-6.5 speed on the tread was freakin' awesome, I was and am excited about it. I'm looking forward to continuing to push my body further and harder.

Week 4 here we come!

How To Spell Humid: I-O-W-A. Days 15, 16, 17

2010-05-25T09:27:00.003-05:00

If there is one thing you can count on in Iowa, it's humidity. Many days of summer feel like all of the cool air has been sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving a sticking, clinging, thick, hot air suctioning itself to your skin. Personally, I find this weather completely unappealing. Especially now that I'm running.

In fact, Sunday the humidity was so thick, I thought if I ran outside, I would surely keel over and die after .5. Not worth it. Instead, I ran in the comfortableness of my air-conditioned house on the treadmill. On one hand it was nice, simply because it was cool, clean, crisp air that was flowing through my lungs and there were ZERO hills. I'll take that any day! On the other hand, though, I hated it. Every time I would go from running to walking, my shins would begin to ache, and it eventually became very painful.

Interestingly, because of the treadmill I was able to see (approximately) the pace at which I was going while running--a 10-minute mile. Not too bad, I was pleased!

Today I got up what I thought would be early enough to beat the humidity. Not quite. Four minutes in I was sweating buckets, and a ring was already developing around my neck. Throughout the run it grew, and grew, and grew (see the picture above).

All in all, week three's running 4 minutes walking 2 minutes x5 is tough because not only of added minutes of running and less walking, but because of good ol' Iowa summer weather!

A Tiny Bit? Nah. A Little? No. A Lot? Oh YEA!: Days 11, 12, 13

2010-05-21T14:31:00.005-05:00

Congratulations to me! I made it through WEEK 2! Boom, boom, boom.

I don't think I've stuck with running this long in my entire life. The crazy weird thing...

I'm actually enjoying it! What?! The "Rest" days, or in my case, the days I claim I'm too busy to do much of anything, leave me waiting in excitement for the next day when I can run once again. Who would have guessed?

A few days ago I was telling my parents how fun it has been to watch my body learn to cope and begin to transform. For instance, at the beginning of this week I added a minute of running and lost a minute of walking (Run 3 minutes, Walk 3 minutes x5), and my body was hating me. It was freakin difficult. Now, though, by the end of the week, I increased distance/pace on Thursday and again today!

Thursday I went from 2.5mi at 11:49 pace to 2.6mi at 11:36 pace. Today, I increased to 2.7mi at a pace of 11:06!! My body is getting in shape and I'm able to run further every time I run. Granted, as I read in the tips (which I mention in the post I Like to Move It, Move It), there will be days that I don't increase in distance and it's just a bad run. But for now, I'm stoked!

Tip of the day: Don't run in the middle of the day when it's 60 bajillion degrees and humid. Jenn does not do well in this kind of temperature! I think I would rather get up at 6:30am and run in the cool, quiet morning air than at 2 or 3 in the heat of the day. Otherwise, I sweat. Not a tiny bit, not even a little bit. I sweat a LOT. Check below--ooooooo, baby. That is straight up sweat from yours truly!

Off I go to shower.... And look forward to Week 3 of training!

Just Do It: Training Day 9 & 10

2010-05-18T14:00:00.003-05:00

This mornings run was...hard. Yes, my body is adjusting to running longer and walking less, but it was difficult because there was a lot on my mind. As I cruised through the neighborhood (I gave up on Mortensen, wasn't about to be honked or yelled at!), my parents were packing the car and headed for Des Moines.

Today marks the start of a new beginning for my mom. I won't go into details as a means of privacy, but this has been a long time coming. It is a journey she began over a year ago, but today was the climatic portion of the process in beginning a new life.

Pumping my arms and legs while breathing heavily, I couldn't help but think about mom. Currently, she doesn't have the ability to run 3 miles; however, I fully trust that as she turns the corner of this new phase of life, we'll soon be able to go on walks together through our neighborhood. My mom is a woman I admire and am proud of beyond description--and shoot, if she has been as amazingly talented and capable for the last twenty-one years that I've known her, I know she is going to be nothing but a bombshell from here on out.

I'll use this time as a quick soap box to all readers: Take care of yourself and take care of your body. You only get one, and there are no returns. If you hate running, bike. If you hate swimming, walk. Keep your body moving and remain healthy. You deserve it. Your family deserves it, your friends deserve it. Just do it.

On a brighter note, I had some rockin' awesome encouragement today!!

I met up with my parents later this morning, and as I arrived, my dad was asking me questions about my new running regimen--he's shocked I'm doing this by choice, he knows how much I hate it. As we talked, my FATHER, who notices nothing and is in no way, shape, or form characterized as observant...says to me, "I can see that you're tightening up, I can tell through your jeans." BOOM BOOM BOOM! UH! If DAD can see the effects of this running, shoot, I'm keepin it up! Worth it.

All in all, an emotional day, but an encouraging and exciting day!

**Go, Mom!!**

Honk, Honk, "Hey!" & Good Morning

2010-05-16T10:56:00.003-05:00

Today marked the start of Week 2 training, Day 8, which means increased running time and shorter walk time: Run 3 minutes, Walk 3 minutes x5.

I'm not even going to lie about it, it sucked. But, it's COMPLETED.

Unfortunately, I think my body is still recovering from the Road freakin Trip and The Overnight, so every step felt like I was one inch closer to my death. Oh, and not to mention the fact that I made a grand decision of running in a long sleeve T today. Why? I have no idea. Plus, the first half of the run was straight into the wind, so I was sucking air big time.

Also, I decided to run on Mortensen instead of around the neighborhood. Again, why? Running along that road means other people on the bike path and cars passing you. Most would think not a big deal, right? Well, there must be something about me because it goes without fail that if I run in a very public area, I will be talked to, yelled at, or honked at. All three occurred this morning. What is the deal--it must be my sexy hips and thunder thighs, people just can't help but to comment. Or at least that's what I tell myself!

Anyways, all in all... Week 1 was completed with flying colors, and week 2 is off to a (okay) start!

Road freakin Trip: the overnight

2010-05-15T20:45:00.006-05:00

Just when I thought the road trip couldn't get any worse, it did. As I write this, I'm running on 3 hours of sleep, so bear with me if it is short, confusing, or otherwise poorly written.

My night ended (or, did it ever really end?) in the following sequence. Once again, everything you read is in no way made up or exaggerated. All of the following is true.

I finished up the first blog, "Road freakin Trip" around 10pm using the hotel computer in the lobby. Before heading to the room, one of my best friends who goes to school in IC, Mandy, called me one last time to see if she could come get me.Unfortunately, by this point I was in such a bad mood and so exhausted, I refused to tell her where we were staying and to have her drive 35 minutes to come get me. My first mistake.

I hung up the phone with her, published my post, and went to the hotel room. Washed my face, took out my contacts, brushed my teeth, got my pj's on, and got into bed--a full to be shared with my 90-year old Grandmother. After about 20 minutes, things got ugly.

Unfortunately for my mom, she has sleep-apnea. Normally, she uses a "breathing machine" which allows her to take in air and stay alive through the night, and also therefore keeps her from snoring--which means we all get a restful sleep. This weekend, however, mom apparently forgot an important part of the machine. So, rather than the rhythmic sound of the machine, a ripping, gasping, terrifying sound pierced the silence around me. Her snoring.

After 25 minutes of trying to sleep, I got up and moved to the furthest corner of the room--under the sink. I was armed with a bath towel as a pillow, nothing more. Well, that lasted about five minutes until I started shivering to freakin death.

Option two instead, I grabbed my cell phone and searched in the pitch dark for the car keys. After a ten minute search, I made my way to our Impala--a night in the backseat would be totally doable, right? Wrong.

After about ten minutes in the car, my mind would not stop and I couldn't help but convince myself that A) Someone would see me and call the cops--as far as I know, it's illegal to sleep overnight in a car or B) Someone would see me, break in, and rape me. Needless to say, I refused to stay and went back inside.

Option three, I used my cell phone again and found my iPod. Normally, I can't listen to music because it stimulates my thinking, and I end up remaining awake...but, in the past my headphones have acted as earplugs, which was the hope this time around. I popped them in my ears, got back into bed with granny, and prayed I wouldn't dwell on the snoring (which, by the way, now included my father, too).

Sleep came--for 30 minutes.

Suddenly, my shoulder was being tapped repeatedly, and with some strength. I took out a headphone, and heard my grandmother whispering urgently, "I don't think your mom has her breathing machine!!" I tried, as calmly as possible, to explain: "No, she doesn't have it tonight. It's okay." Well, apparently that wasn't helpful because she said the same thing, again, followed by, "And there is chirping!" What? Chirping, what is she tal--CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP--Oh, that chirping. The battery of the fire alarm was dying, causing a loud, irritating chirp. The only way to stop it: Call the front desk.

By this time, the chirp somehow broke through the snoring and woke up both of my parents. Mom called down to the front desk, and the woman said she would be right down.

So, at approximately 11:48pm a woman in her 50's came into our hotel room with an extra set of batteries. Next thing I know, all the lights are on in our room, and she is crawling on top of my bed, trying to keep her balance while changing the battery.

As she does, my dad chooses to sit up and say, "I thought my daughter had started smoking in the room and set off the alarm." Mortified, I cried, "Just so you know, I have never smoked in my entire life, and he thinks he's being funny." She nervously laughed (I mean, what kind of person can calmly stand on the bed of guests at midnight, try to keep her balance, and quickly change a battery?) and continued to work. Then, granny decided to start telling stories about her apartment and the fire alarms there--okay?

She finished, left, and I went to lock the door. As it closed, my mom made her way to the bathroom and I, unfortunately, said something about her snoring. This caused a bit of an uproar, as dad claimed, "No, no, she's not snoring! I haven't heard her, it must be me. I'll go sleep in the car." In my head I'm thinking, Uh, try both of you are snoring...!!!

**To all people who have been that you snore: BELIEVE IT. You are sleeping when the sound erupts from your nose, so trust that when someone who clearly has good hearing tells you that you snore, do not question it**

Anyways, dad gathered his things and made his way to the Impala--I bet he probably didn't think twice about being arrested or raped. I put my headphones back in, turned the music on this time, and tried to get to sleep. This time around, though, the snoring escalated a level and made its way past my music.

So, back to the carpet under the sink I went--this time I grabbed my jacket, zipped it all the way up, my pillow, and TWO towels to use as blankets. As I tried to get somewhat comfortable, that sick throw-up feeling washed over me. You know the kind--when you're tired beyond anything and your body is trying to cope. Ew, what a horrible feeling!

For the next 3 hours I woke up every hour at the :05, fell asleep about 35 minutes later, and woke up again. A repeated cycle. Until about 3am, when my mom stumbled over my feet on her way to the bathroom. Once she realized why I was sleeping there, she felt horrible :( and apologized profusely. Not only that, but she grabbed her jacket and "tucked" me in. Thank goodness because I actually slept through the next two and a half hours. Until I was tapped again on the shoulder.

My dear old granny was leaning over me and asking, "Should we wake your mom up?" It was 5:45am and we didn't have to leave for graduation until 7:30am. "No, granny, she is fine. You can go ahead and get ready if you like." As she grabbed her things, I realized my sleeping area was quickly being taken over and I needed to move. Instead of listening to the uproar coming from my mom's nose, I left for breakfast.

Best decision I made all night.

I decided I deserved a HUGE breakfast since all I had had for dinner the night before was s chicken breast, and I knew lunch for my Auntie wouldn't happen until about noon or 1--hours away. So, I filled my plate full of eggs, a muffin, yogurt, and a waffle with peanut butter on it. Can you say delicious? That is the only way to start off a day after a night like that!

I made my way back to our room to find my dad scrambling around and grabbing his suitcase. "Where are you going?"
"To shower," he said.
"Uh....where?"
"In my room."
"Your room?"
"Yes."
"What does that even mean?"
"Last night, the lady gave me my own room. I was on my way to the car, but because of the fire alarm, she gave me a room."
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME. YOU HAD YOUR OWN ROOM, AND I WAS FREAKIN SLEEPING UNDER THE SINK ALL NIGHT WITH TWO TOWELS AND HEADPHONES IN MY EAR, ONLY TO BE WOKEN UP EVERY HOUR, AND THEN BY BOTH MOM AND GRANDMA?!!!!"

Okay, so, as good as the waffle was... It didn't turn my frown completely upside down because my response to the news that my dad had gotten an entire room to snore in, alone, while I was left in a room as a train made its way through all night long, was mind boggling.

Here's the kicker.

I come to find out through conversation that mom had tried (keyword: tried) to stay awake all night to keep from snoring. Well, hate to break it to you, mom, but I think that didn't quite happen.... Then, my 90 year old grandmother slept only a few hours, too, because she was convinced that my mom was dying and gasping for air all night since she had no breathing machine.

Wow.
What.
A.
Horrible.
Freakin.
Overnight.

Now, you may be wondering--can she get any more negative? Well, honestly, yes, I'm sure I could; however, I won't... Because the rest of the day was awesome. I got to watch my Auntie J walk across the stage and receive her diploma with highest honors, spend time with two of my favorite cousins and laugh hysterically throughout the entire graduation, and then follow it all up with a wonderful lunch with the rest of our extended family to celebrate with my aunt.

I'm not sure if I will go as far to say the whole thing was worth it, but I will say I couldn't be prouder of my aunt and despite a horrible drive, a crappy night, and a ridiculously long ceremony, I am so stinking glad I was there today!!

Road freakin Trip

2010-05-14T20:30:00.009-05:00

Family vacations are always an interesting experience. Typically, anytime a group of people are squished together in a single vehicle for many hours, attitudes are tested and emotions run high. Now, one may think that a family of 3 would be immune to any such experiences. Let me go ahead and set that straight: WRONG WRONG WRONG. For the last 4-ish hours, I have been on a trip to Hades...and not come back. Yet.

First of all, I should mention that this road trip was A) Not a family vacation--simply an overnight in IC before my Auntie J's graduation Saturday morning, B) Not just my immediate family--Granny & Aunt Jackie were along for the ride, and C) Not something I was dreading, I was actually really looking forward to the whole thing. Until we left the gas station a block from home in Ames, IA.

*Note: None of these people, circumstances, or situations are in any way made-up or created. Everything you are about to read is true.

Pulling away from Pump #6, Dad looks to Mom and says, "Now, which exit do I take once we're in Cedar Rapids?" Mom looks at my Dad, looks down between the seats, looks back up at Dad and says, "Shoot. I left them on my desk at home. Should we go back and get them?"

Now, in the grand scheme of things, not a big deal. It happens. The only problem is, things like this occur more and more often the older my parents get--the joys of aging. So, five blocks away from home, the Caravan turns back and heads in the direction it came.

With directions in hand, we hit the road. Personally, I find road trip to be the perfect time to look out the window and reflect, dream, imagine, and remember. As soon as my headphones sit nice and tight in my ears, the world around me fades away as my memory and imagination begin to take over. Often, the music carries me to another place and I drift off into a peaceful slumber. Halfway through this trip, however, I awoke as I felt my stomach larch backwards and my head was forced into the seat.

My life then flashed before my eyes.

Aunt Jackie and Grandma were both erect in their seats, heads cocked around the drivers and passenger seats in front of them, and gaping at the scene before them. First sign of trouble. To my left, I realized the corn was gone and instead replaced with metal--the side of a semi truck. Second sign of trouble. The tires below me felt as if they would roll of the van at any minute, and there was a loud pulling noice coming from a hardworking engine. Third sign of trouble. Spinning my head forward, I saw an uncoming car driving straight towards us. 100 yards. 80 yards. 60 yards. We hadn't passed the semi. 40 yards. Gas pedal to the floor, the van larched forward, pulling ahead of the semi in what seemed to be the last possible moment. Now, normally I work hard to keep my mouth shut; this particular moment was a failure.

"DAD," I gasped. Headphones went back in, coat up over my head, and I began praying to get there soon. I should have started praying earlier..or harder..or louder. Because God didn't seem to hear me.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. I pulled my headphones back out to realize something was very, very wrong with the car. Mom was pointing and saying, "Just pull over, just pull over, John, just pull over." (I wasn't sure at first, but I think she wanted Dad to just pull over...). So, he did. Into an abandoned gravel driveway with a trailer, truck, jeep, and old building surrounding us. Gotta love middle-of-nowhere, IA.

Dad popped the hood and got out. I realized he was sporting the extremely sexy cataract sunglasses--they are huge and cover 3/4 of his entire face. He dug his head into the hood, came around to the open drivers door to exclaim, "I think we need oil."

Well, this led to an "I told you so" kind of conversation between he and my mom. Apparently, as recently as last night she had asked him if it needed changing, but he had sworn No, it was fine. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Men.

As we sat there, my dear worrisome aunt and grandmother began making suggestions: Why not go over to that house, surely someone was home? Do you think we should call the number on that sign? Really, someone must live there, should you go over there? Maybe it's the radiator? And on and on it went.

Deciding we should just trek on after letting things cool down a bit, we got back on the road--for a couple of miles before BEEP BEEP BEEP. This time, we pulled off into the drive of what was clearly a farm home with living, breathing people somewhere near by (cars in the drive, garage door open).

My aging father with the cataract sunglasses made his way to the front door, knocked, waited, knocked, waited, nothing. As he came back towards the van, mom opened up the trunk and sat down. As she and I were talking, she realized Dad was on his phone--"Who are you calling? We dont' have triple A." He informed her in a lovely tone that he was calling information to get the number of the Casey's gas station in the last town we just passed through.

As this conversation was taking place, my dear aunt and grandmother continued on their string of suggestions and thoughts: Oh, someone has to be home--who leaves the garage door open like that? The trees are trimmed, so I bet someone lives here, don't you think? Well, they probably think we're going to hurt them, I wouldn't answer the door, you can't trust anyone these days. Where do you spose they are? Maybe Jenny should come get us? We could stay here and sleep haha. And on and on it went.

Eventually, Dad did work and got a hold of someone from town who would be coming with oil. As he was one the phone, he made his way towards the road to wave down the help. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman walking out of the garage. My mom walked towards her, "Hi! I'm so sorry, we had car trouble and needed a place to pull into!" She and the woman continue to converse while I sat in the back of the van listening to two different conversations--one in my left ear (aunt and grandma) and one in my right (mom and the home owner).

As I heard the woman tell my mom her husband is the local sheriff, I overheard grandma say, "Oh, bless her heart, she waited long enough to come out. She's a widow and didn't know what to think of us!"

Uh. A widow? Really? Huh.

Enter Tom.

A typical-Iowa-looking farmer (sunburned, worn shirt, jeans, and shoes, wearing a camoflauged cap), Tom poured oil into the van and became our saving grace. He also suggested we fill some other thing in the hood with water, which the nice homeowner with the sheriff husband kindly provided.

Continued questioning and worrisome sentences poured out of my aunt and granny. By this time, I was having a difficult time keeping it together and having an attitude worthy of recognition. Thank God for iPods and texting.

Hood closed, all passengers ready to move on, we hit the road. For .5 miles.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Pulling over onto a gravel drive, R38, we soon realized we were going nowhere fast and would need a tow. Dad called good ol' Tom back, and the good man he is, said he'd be out to give us a tow.

By this time, I needed air. Fresh, worry-free air.

As I stood by the van with mom and dad, a freakin ginormus truck (the kind I hate) rolled past us with three large young men inside. Mom noticed their young faces and said, "Jenn, maybe this could be your boyfriend?" They roared past, kicking up dust, and as they did, my wonderful, wonderful mother said, "Thanks for the help!"

No. Way.

The break lights came on, followed by the white reverse lights, and the truck came back towards us. "Y'all need some help?" the big guy in the middle asked. "Oh, no, we're just standing out here in the middle of nowhere," replied my mom. "The middle of nowhere? This here's my backyard!" he laughed. My parents--yes, not me--proceeded to converse with them, telling them the situation. One of them made a genius suggestion--"We got some vodka we could poor in that engine of yours." Oh, how lovely. I hope granny did not hear that. Eventually, they pulled away and as they did, like any mother would, Betty yelled, "Don't drink and drive!" The guy next to the window held up a brown beer bottle and said, "No, ma'am!!!!" Epic.

Right as they left, Tom pulled up in his tow truck.

LONG, LONG, LONG story short... A car dealer from the local town came in a Chevy Impala to pick us up, and Tom towed the van back into town to have it fixed tomorrow morning. At first, though, he suggested towing the van and taking it back into town--with my 90-year old granny STILL IN the van! Imagine that, a little old woman tilted backwards at a 45-degree angle in a towed vehicle, illegally making her way into town. That alone would have made this whole trip worth it.

This is a picture of Tom, getting the van all hitched up.

So, what began as a simple, 2-hour drive for an overnight trip to IC in a seven person van...became a 4-hour drive in a five person car. I don't care where we are going, what we are doing, how long it takes...........my family vacations are anything but ordinary and easy.

Our "loner" vehicle for the weekend. Smooth yet very, very squiched ride.

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

2010-05-14T10:22:00.006-05:00

Day 6 of training was a choice day: Run 2"/Walk 4" or Rest. I chose running. Kind of a big deal--I actually chose running. Hot dang, I'd say I'm making progress!

Today was a perfect day to run, too. After what felt like an eternity for the middle of May, it finally stopped raining and the sun came out! A heavenly temperature this morning, with a light breeze. I got to run in capri's and a long sleeve-T....Mmm mmm good! Not to mention many people were out on walks, jogs, with their children, and mowing. I love the sound of lawn mowers--it means summer has arrived!

Before I went out running, I was reading Psalm 89:1-13. David begins the Psalm saying, "I will sing of the steadfast love of the Lord, forever; with my mouth I will make known your faithfulness to all generations." Later, he writes "The heavens are yours; the earth is also yours; the world and all that is in it, you have founded them."

As I (easily!) breathed in and out along Hemingway and Clemens Blvd, I meditated on this verse. With each breath I couldn't help but think it is by Gods grace alone I'm alive, and he knows every single hair on my head, and the number of breaths I will take, and His love for me is steadfast and true. He is the same yesterday, today, tomorrow, and forever. Right now I'm in the midst of experiencing a lot of change in my life with many friends graduating, moving, etc....but God remains the same--and He is faithful. It is a faithfulness and love I want to speak about forever, making it known to all generations.

The mowers mowing, people picking weeds, leaves blowing in the wind, I recognized that it all belongs to Him. He designed and created all of Heaven and Earth, it all belongs to Him. And I get to enjoy his artwork every.day. Every!Day! The sun, sky, trees, grass, flowers, heck--my own body and it's ability to run and move and breathe...is a testimony to the loving, faithful, beautiful Creator I serve!

Oh, what a beautiful morning.

Huff & Puff No More!: Day 4 & 5

2010-05-13T10:20:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was a Rest Day, but that didn't stop me. I got down and dirty withP90X: Chest and Shoulders workout. Basically, I'm on my way to becoming the incredible Hulk, with muscles rippling through my shoulders and popping out of my arms.

Okay, maybe my body won't turn out quite like this--or at least I'm hoping I don't turn green! And I probably won't grow too many more inches, but fingers crossed the muscles appear.

This morning was day number 5--and shoot! Maybe it's just my mind playing games on me, but I'm pretty sure I don't huff and puff half as much as I did when I started running (officially, it's been two weeks since I started running, but just started this program a week ago).

Personally, I do not like running with headphones in--it's just me, myself, and I as I workout (although, sometimes I wish Keith Urban was along for the run!). This means I can hear my breathing quite well. When I started, it was embarrassing to hear how hard I was breathing, or gasping, rather. Now, I'm learning how to better control the airflow, and it comes much easier. Not to mention when I transition from running to walking, I can catch, or get under my breath, sooner than before. I think my body is beginning to get into shape!

Now, here's the interesting thing: despite working out and running more in the last two weeks than I probably have in my entire life, I am exhausted. I have always correlated working out with energy; however, this has not been the case. A couple of days ago, I was talking with my shoe salesman/triathlete, Tony, and he is the expert I needed to talk to!

According to him, it's completely natural to feel exhausted because my body is getting into this new habit of running (and probably hating me for it!). He said it will probably be a couple of weeks until I feel energized rather than as if I could sleep for hours at a time. I hope he's right, because for the last few nights I've literally slept 9-10 hour nights--whew!

Oh--and here's another interesting thing to go along with this new experience. For those of you that know me well, you are aware of past..."issues"...I've had with normal bodily functions *wink, wink* Well, good news is, running is acting like the best natural laxative in the world! Maybe I should become a spokesperson for running simply to encourage having a regular system. Just imagine that commercial....

All in all, I'm almost through Week 1 and ROCKIN' it! Until chaffing starts, I'm home free.

Runnin' in the Rain: Day 3

2010-05-11T09:00:00.002-05:00

NEVER in my life did I think the following sentence would come out of my mouth: "I love running in the rain." But, it just happened. Miracles really do happen!

This morning I got up bright and early--wait, wait...no, no. It was early, but it wasn't bright; it was gray and misty rain. However, I wasn't deterred! I got my big ol' booty up and out of that warm, delicious bed and headed outside.

I walked out the door only to realize it was also a bit chilly--so, do you know what I did? I actually walked back upstairs and got a SWEATSHIRT. Already it was shaping up to be a unique morning because my feelings about wearing a sweatshirt while running is like my current romantic status: less than appealing.

Throwing on the sweatshirt, I began Day 3 of training: Run 2"/Walk 4" x5, plus a 5" cool down. For 35 minutes I ran/walked in the rain...and I loved it. Why? 1) It kept me cool 2) I sweat, a lot, but with the rain, it's impossible to tell the difference! 3) I found it relaxing.

All in all, it was a good day #3

Thank You, R&R: Day 2

2010-05-10T11:47:00.003-05:00

This might be the best part about this running program: Rest day's are every other day! YES! I especially appreciate this today because it's currently 11:53a.m on a Monday, my first day of summer, and I just woke up about 45 minutes ago. Who knew finals week could be so exhausting? It sure takes it out of a girl! So, fyi blog readers, if I do not post every day, it is simply because I'm not running every day. Off days I plan on lifting, ab workouts, cycling, etc. However, in honor of the first day of summer and my first off day of the program, I will be participating in close to zero physical movement. Amen!

Cha-Ching! Day 1

2010-05-09T08:57:00.003-05:00

Day 1 of new training program: COMPLETED.
Run 2 min/Walk 4 min x 5, Warm-Up and Cool Down for a total of 36 minutes

So far so good--apparently I'm heeding the advice of tip #20, "Don't think too much or you won't do it" because this morning I woke up at 7:45am and got out of my bed and on to the paved road. And, the smile in the picture above is not fake. It's quite real. The run felt real, real good.

Granted, it's day 1 of a 10-week beginners program, but hey! It's a start. Before going to bed last night, I made up a chart, 10x7. It shows me what I'll be doing every day for the next 70 days. Crossing of Day 1 was a thrill! Boom boom boom, baby!

I Like to Move It, Move It: Day 0

2010-05-08T23:39:00.009-05:00

Okay, first of all, I might want to rethink the title of this post because I don't like to "move it, move it." Nope, not at all, never have. Although I grew up playing sports, especially falling in love with soccer by the age of five, I hated the running part of any game. Pumping my arms while quickly moving forward with high knees has never been appealing to me--the only reason I love soccer is because there is a round ball to kick around, keeping my mind off of the running aspect of the sport. A genius invention, that soccer ball.

However, due to some recent circumstances involving friends, roommates, boys at fitness stores (cough cough *BSM* cough cough), and a spiritual encounter with Jesus (who knew Romans 12:1 would be so motivating?), my mind, body, and yes, I think even my soul, is telling me to get into running. Seriously? Seriously.

This weekend has been a full one: I bought a new pair of Asics at Fitness Sports (which ROCK--see picture below! but what am I doing, spending that kind of money on running shoes? This must be serious); sports-bra shopped; spent time reading running tips and training plans; and had an actual conversation about running with my roommate--which included her taking my resting heart rate and then calculating what it needs to be while I'm exercising.

For months after reading "Julie and Julia," I kept thinking, I wish I had something to do to I could write about, to keep my readers (if you're out there!) up to date on, to go through with me. And then, shoot. Tonight while reading running tip #25 of 100, like the bottom of a running shoe slapping pavement, I was struck with this thought: I need to write a blog about my attempts at becoming a runner.

Perfect.

Getting in shape to then turn around and write about it here on this blog. I'm in. I mean, if the running is less than appealing, at least I'll have a reason to write more often.

So, as I begin my training program tomorrow, join me! Maybe you can find a program of your own, or continue to do work on something you've already started. Or, maybe you will simply find some enjoyment in reading all about my experiences--as much as an epic fail or pure success they may be!

I thought it would only be appropriate to share some of my favorite tips from this evening. They are as follows:

Wear spandex shorts under your regular running shorts so you don’t chafe “down there.” OUCH! I guess I need to invest in some spandex.
Ladies, do not skimp on a bra. Even if it costs more than your shoes it’s still a bargain. Ok, really...this is a no brainer!
Buy running clothes you look good in and that will motivate you to run. Can't you hear this conversation now? "Mom, Dad...you know you love me, and don't you want me around for years and years, and in great health to produce grandchildren? I thought so. In order to do that, I need new running clothes."
Don’t neglect and irritate your family and friends by spending all your time running and talking about running. Good thing I have a blog.
It gets easier. I will be clinging to this promise.
Accept and appreciate the fact that not every single run can be a good one. Good to know. Really, really good to know.
Don’t expect every run to be better than the last one; some of them will hurt. Some will hurt? Ok, I think all will hurt.
Even a bad run is better then no run at all. This tip? I LOVE this tip.
Running is not an excuse to triple your intake of doughnuts because runners gain weight too. One word: Shoot.
On long runs eat something every hour—whether you feel like it or not. So, I can eat more?
Guys: Band-Aids before the long runs. Your nipples will thank you in the shower afterwards. Thank goodness I don't have to worry about this one!
Don’t stretch before a run. Warm up by walking briskly or jogging slowly for several minutes. I actually had no idea about this--a legitimate helpful tip.
Always carry I.D. because you just never know. Ok, but what about Mase?
Try shoes on in the afternoon when your feet are bigger. Is that a joke? My feet grow by the afternoon? What?
Get assessed for the right kind of running shoes. Tony White, I hope you know what you're talking about!
Keep a training diary. Check! You're reading it!
There’s no shame in walking. Halle-freakin-lujah!!!!!
Forgive yourself. Over-ambitious goals usually lead to frustration and giving up on your fitness plan. If you miss a goal or milestone let it go and focus on the next opportunity to get it. Ok, people. I have a gift of mercy--take a hint from yours truly and bear with this beginner.
Dress as if it is 10 degrees warmer than the temperature on the thermometer. So run in sweatshirts?! No, thank you!
Don’t think too much about it or you won’t do it. This might be a problem.

These are just 20 of 100 running tips--a good start, I'd say! As I sign off for the night, I'll be dreaming the line from a favorite childhood book of mine: "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..."

Brand new, Asics, baby! Work it, move it, shake it, lose it, run, run, run!

Son of Satan

2010-04-13T11:58:00.006-05:00

I tend to believe that most of the ideas that cross my mind are...well, awesome. In my head, everything comes together perfectly, falling into place just as I imagined it would. Rarely do I see my dreams as just that, dreams. The most current wish I came up has, yet again, turned into a reality which I was not prepared to deal with.

Marshall. That was supposed to be his name. He was going to be the absolute best dog in the entire world. Everyone would be jealous, complimenting me on what a catch he was. They would see how he unconditionally loved me, treated me like his best friend and princess, and simply couldn't get enough of me. Basically, Marshall was going to be the boyfriend I've always dreamed of--only he would have four legs, communicate with the voice of a bark, and play fetch.

See, the thing is, prince charming doesn't always exist, even in the form of a pup. No, Marshall was just another frog who I kissed and he remained a frog. I was not swept away in puppy love.

Instead, prince charming is now lovingly referred to as "Hell Boy," "Son of Satan," and "Luey" which is short for Lucifer, by my entire family. The little boy may be short and stocky, but shoot has he got an attitude and one heck of a bite! My friends don't comment on the sweet kisses he leaves me--there are none of those. Rather, the tiny bite marks up and down my arms and hands, the scab on my lip where he bit down and broke skin, or the torn cartilage of my right ear get all the comments. "He did that!? Did it bleed?" or maybe, "I've never seen a puppy bite like that before." Yeah, well people, you don't live with Son of Satan.

The only thing Hell Boy has going for him is the cuteness factor. It's hard to be mad at a dog when he is so stinking cute. I mean, look at this face:

The point is: I gotta be careful what I dream for. Cause the Bible says, "Immeasurably more than all I can ask or imagine for...." And Luey, er, I mean Marshall, is exactly that!

The Junk Song

2010-03-07T13:43:00.005-06:00

This past weekend TSC held its annual Spring Retreat 2010 at Embassy Suites. For those of you unfamiliar with TSC, it is a college ministry of Cornerstone Church and over 1,000 students are involved on Thursday night as well as weekly Connection Groups. It is a ministry in which God is clearly at work and has been a huge blessing in my own life. Throughout the weekend not only did God move in mighty ways by drawing hearts closer to Him, but fun was had by all--especially during the talent show.

TSC is full of some of the most talented people I have ever known. There is so much potential to be tapped into to ultimately glorify the Lord. The talent show is only a glimpse of the abilities of students throughout the ministry; whether it is music, drama/acting, or dancing...creativity is bursting!

This year Ben H., Jess H., and myself had the opportunity to be involved in a talent created by the genius of Audrey McG! As a senior, Audrey has been reflecting on the last four years of her time at ISU. What she came up with was awesome, funny, and carefully designed; in fact, it was so great that the tune of "My Humps" by Black Eyed Peas, a TSC service opportunity, and the enthusiasm of the four of us led to first place in the talent show!! AWE.SOME.

The following link will take you to YouTube to see the talent.
Below the link are the lyrics to the song...
Enjoy!
And major props to Drey--you rocked it, girl!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HU_rKbkO3U

The Junk Song
Whatcha gonna do with all that trash, all that trash inside those bags?
It's gonna make make make you gag,
Make you gag, gag, make you gag
This trash, this trash, this nasty, smelly trash
This peanut beer-filled trash, the stadium clean-up trash (Check it out)

You sign up at TSC
To get in the game free
You're not sure if we'll win
But you bring all of your friends
You head down to cluster up
And then you get your trusty gloves
Thinkin that they'll be thick
But really getting holy tips

Mark he keeps on askin'
If we'll bring the circle in for
Jesus Christ the true religion
We say yes and we're forgiven
So then we pray to Him
And ask for His blessing
The blowers go one way, we go the other way

To the grass, the upper, lower decks
And don't forget the concourse

The east, the west, the bathrooms
This trash it has you

Stan's going to yell now
"Make sure to get the popcorn, and get the seeds and peanuts.
Your bags getting fall now
Look at the bottom there's a, a giant hole in it

Whatcha gonna do with all those cans,
All those cans inside your hands?
I'm gonna make make make some dough
Make some dough for the Salt Co.

Whatcha gonna do with all this time,
All this time I thought was mine?
I'm gonna chat chat chat it up,
Chat it up, chat it up
Cause of my Jenn, my very chatty friend
Her talkin' never ends, with my very chatty friend (Check it Out)

I met a Ben down at the South Gate
He said Hey, hey, hey yea let's meet
I can be the holder, you can be my helper
Let's conquer this together
Put your trash in my plastic bag
Nasty smell trash
Put your trash with my plastic bag,
Nasty, smelly traaaash

So we move to the parking lot
Trying to get the best spot
Always wanting Cheney
To lead us in the waving

Tryin to make some new friends
With tailgatin patrons
Some are nice and some others really aren't so helpful
Some will, start some drama
We don't want yo drama
Or your cig butts, we don't want your cig butts

Don't throw us your trash, bud
We ain't yo bag, bud
We just tryin to clean up
And serve the Lord!

These trucks, these great, big trucks
There for the clean-up
Now run from bag to bag
The stadium clean-up (trash)
The stadium clean-up (trash)
The stadium clean-up (trash) in the zone and in the lot
This trash it has you

We're getting hungry
Quit your complain, buddy, and wait for Gumby's
Hey look what I found
A comb and a Starbust, baby, it must be my day

Whatcha gonna do with all that trash
All that trash inside those bags?
We're gonna make make make some cash
Make some cash from all this trash

Why you makin' all that cash
All that cash from all that trash?
Cause we want to make Salt last
It's a blast, blast, it's a blast

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

We're going to miss you
You might not get to do this after the games at Kinnick
We'll say goodbye now
Thank you for listening, but now we're finished

Whirl

2010-03-01T13:51:00.004-06:00

My girlfriends are the best gifts I have ever been given. The older I get, the more I sincerely appreciate everything each woman brings to my life. Whether it is advice, wisdom, correction, laughter, encouragement, or support, I'm grateful.

I recently came to the conclusion that I am in a season of life I love being single. I love devoting time to my girlfriends, investing in their lives as they do mine. I would not trade this time with them for the world! One day I may settle down with a man (maybe), but for now, I am beyond satisfied with my best friends.

And last Friday made me that much more confident that all my single ladies rock.

For one night only, myself and five of my closest friends here at ISU headed out of town to the middle of nowhere (sorry, BSM). We stayed in a beautiful home that smelled of farm, and we were treated like royalty.

As we sat down to a dinner of fresh salad and amazing homemade lasagna, we got down to some good chatty time. I can't tell you what the conversation consisted of--six girls at one table means a lot of words are being exchanged. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary or funny...until I opened my mouth to comment about the taste of the water. What followed is the ultimate hysterically funny story I've experienced in months. Below is a loose depiction of the scene:

Jenn: Does anyone else think this water tastes funny?

Mikaela: Tastes funny? Like what?

Jenn: It tastes like blood.

Haley and Mikaela (the farm girls) laughing.

Carrie (nods): Yeah, that's a good description of it.

Jenn: It's not a big deal, it just has that rusty taste to it.

Haley: Is it well water?

Mikaela: Yeah, I think so.

Haley: We just switched to well water, too--I hate it! We don't get cold showers, and the water pressure is like drip, drip, drip. Mom wants rural water back, but Dad won't do it!

Jess (listening to the story, looks at me): Whirl water?

Jenn: Yeah, rural water.

At this point, Haley continues talking about the rural water, and Mikaela, Annie and I are listening. On the other side of the table Jess and Carrie are carrying on a conversation--

Jess: Whirl water? How do you spell that?

Carrie: R-U-R-A-L

Jess is now falling off of her chair, laughing hysterically. I look over as she's falling, trying to figure out what's so funny. Carrie is starring down at her, also laughing. Jess gets back up on her chair.

Jess: (laughing through tears) Haley, what is whirl water?

Haley: I don't know. It comes from town?

Jess: How do you spell it?

Haley: W-H-I-R-L

Now, as the rest of us understand why Jess is dying laughing, proceed to bust a gut as well. Haley is sitting there laughing with us, but obviously unsure as to why we're laughing.

Jenn: Haley, you've been saying "Whirl" and not "Rural?"

Haley: Yeah, that's what it is!

Jenn: It's rural, not whirl!

Haley: No, I swear it's whirl! I'll call my mom and ask.

Haley calls her mom, no answer. She then calls her sister Ashley...

Haley: Ashley, what kind of water do we get at home?

Ashley: Rural!

Jenn: Ashley, can you spell that?

Ashley: R-U-R-A-L

Continued laughing on our end of the phone, everyone cracking up as Haley's reality comes crashing to a halt as she realizes after years and years that it's RURAL water, not WHIRL water. Out of all 5 of us, the only person who was hearing "whirl" was Jess--and thank goodness she did, it was a great moment to remember and a learning opportunity!

The best thing is, this is only a brief look into my life as a single woman and the joy that I get from my girlfriends. To be able to laugh so hard that we're falling off chairs, crying, and grabbing our aching sides is to love the life I'm blessed with and appreciate those treasures I get to call best friends.

My New Man

2010-02-28T18:47:00.003-06:00

I have a new man in my life!!!!!!!

I'm really excited about this one, I think he'll be around for quite awhile.

He's the cutest thing you've ever seen, I swear!
He's a really good listener--I talk to him a lot.
I think we'll really enjoy loooong walks when the weather gets nicer.
He's always full of affection--he likes kisses a lot.
Also, he's quite the cuddler.
Mom, dad, and granny love him, too.
It will be great too because he likes to be outside and hit around a tennis ball.

The only thing is...
When he communicates with me, he barks.
And he pees outside.
And has four legs.

HIS NAME IS MARSHALL!!! :)

I'm Official!

2010-01-31T16:58:00.003-06:00

I GOT PUBLISHED!!!!

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

I have a passion for writing, but beyond that I have a passion for my Savior. Out of the wonders of his love for me, he has chosen to bless me with a phenomenal opportunity to begin a legit writing career at the age of 21.

The community newspaper, The Tribune, also publishes a monthly magazine targeted towards women within the area, Facets. About a month ago the editor contacted me to see if I would do some freelance work for them. The first piece I wrote was for the February issue of the magazine, and it was a "fluff" piece about the top ten Valentines Day gifts. Two days ago the magazine came out and I got to see my name in print.

Officially, I Jennifer Boccella, am a published, freelance writer! I couldn't be happier and more pleased--what a way to kick off what I hope is a long-term career. May the Lord continue to bless me with opportunities to do what I love. It's my hope the gift I have for the written word ultimately leads to writing articles, books, and speaking events that will allow me to share about the love of Christ.

Check out the online version of the article, "A Little Bit of Lovin!" And keep an eye out for "Jennifer Boccella."

Facebook Status: Jenn Boccella will never be a "friend" on FB again

2010-01-18T08:08:00.003-06:00

Recently, I wrote a post about deactivating my Facebook account indefinitely. Well, that indefinitely became definite: not only have I deactivated, but I have officially deleted the entire account. I am sure there may be a collective "What?" after reading that sentence, simply because our generation relies so much on social networking sites. It is out of the ordinary to not have Facebook, let alone to have had one only to then delete it.

Also, I should mention that as a whole, I do not find Facebook to be a "bad" thing. Yes, it connects people on a certain level, pictures are fun, and who doesn't like to be poked? So, my reasoning for choosing to delete my account is by no means what I think the rest of my friends need to do; that is up to them. Personally, I felt the conviction to delete my account.

Essentially, the big deletion came after hearing a message last night given by a 73 year old phenomenal man of God with a very strong Southern accent. He talked about how every generation has certain characteristics, some good, some bad. One of my generations negative characteristics is that we are the"hang out" generation. We always have to be spending time with friends; rarely would it occur to us to spend a Friday night with the Lord. Throughout his message, he stressed the importance of getting in the Word every single day. Now is the time for me to develop those disciplines, to understand the utter importance of fellowship with my Father. Thinking about that, I had one thought on my brain: Facebook. There are days that I won't read my Bible because I'm "too busy," yet I always seem to somehow find the time to check my Facebook, write on someone's wall, and maybe stalk the mini-feed to find out what all my "friends" are up to.

How is it that I can find the time to devote to wall posts, pokes, and pictures, yet I can't find the time to read, speak to and hear from the Creator of the universe? There is something very, very wrong with that.

Instead, my hearts desire is to be a woman of discipline who wants to love, know, honor, and glorify God. In order for me to do that, choosing to delete my Facebook account is one step towards choosing what my priorities are going to be.

The Black Line

2010-01-13T16:59:00.007-06:00

This past week I applied to work for a company that requires a drug screening prior to the first day of work. In the past I have had to do the same thing--the company makes an appointment at the clinic, I go in for the drug test, it comes back negative, and I start work; in fact, one job required an entire physical before I could start. So, this morning I geared up for yet another opportunity to prove I am not a crackhead (as much as that may shock you).

Before my 1:00 appointment, I had about 2 hours to do with as I please. Well, unfortunately, my brain was not functioning properly (again, drugs had nothing to do with this). In that time I chose to do my P90X workout. Essentially, what that means is that my body was sucked dry of all hydration. Sweat after the workout soaked my "drying" towel--or, maybe I should say my "wet" towel. I thought it would be no problem--work up a sweat, get out of breath, and my body would demand water, actually making it easier for the drug test.

Sitting at the counter eating my turkey sandwich before leaving, I sucked down 24oz. worth of H2O out of my royal blue Camelback water bottle. I filled it back up to the brim, and made my way to the car. Driving across town to the clinic, I continued to drink up that wonderful, cold, clear stuff until I parked, and shut and locked my car door. I arrived, checked in, signed in, and sat down.

"Jennifer" was called, and I made my way back to the room. I was asked to show my ID, take off my jacket, and remove all items from my pockets. Then, I was given the clear plastic cup.

On it was a line drawn from a bold, thick, black permanent marker. The point in which my urine had to cross, about an inch up from the bottom of the cup. No problem after all that water. I would be finished with the whole procedure and walking to my car in 10 minutes.

According to Vicki, I had 4 minutes before the bathroom door was opened and the cup was in her hand. Oh, and I couldn't flush until she made she I hadn't "cheated" somehow, too. Check.

I went to the 3 by 4 sized bathroom, took a deep breath, and let it go.

Shoot.

If there was ever a moment I thought, "I wish I was a boy," quickly followed by, "I wish I had a GoGirl," (see I FUDally Found My Dream Come True!) it was then.

I sat there until was sure my 4 minutes was up, hoping I might get lucky and the black line would be reached, but it didn't happen. I opened the bathroom door to find Vicki there, waiting. I held the cup up and said, "I didn't make it."

She grabbed the cup from my hand with the confidence only someone who does this for a living could possibly have, and said, "Not even close. Looks like you're a shy bladder." Well, who knew being told you have a "shy bladder" could be such a hit against your pride? I hung my head a bit and asked what next.

"Well, I give you a cup (she holds up a red plastic cup) that you can fill up 3 times and drink while you wait in the waiting room. You have an hour to try again."

I slouched in that green waiting room seat as I chugged my three glasses. I was extremely frustrated because:
A) I hate wasting time. I had too much to do and waiting around for an hour until I had to pee was not a part of my schedule.
B) I'm a perfectionist plus I'd done this before. My bladder shouldn't be shy.
C) Things that are not planned are a struggle for me.

So, I sat there as I waited. And waited. And waited. I waited for an hour. Periodically Vicki would come out and see if I was "ready." I wasn't. Other patients came and went--most of them men who obviously had no problems aiming and could be in and out in 10 like I had wanted to be. Men.

Finally, I got my frustration under control and quit thinking about it so much and allowed my body to relax. I went up to the receptionist and said simply, "I'm ready." Okay, now that I think about it-I can't believe I said, "I'm ready," as if I was some kind of performer psyched up to get on stage and had completed voice warm-ups, or an athlete who had finished stretching and was ready to take the field. Please, all I was doing was peeing in a cup.

As I walked back to the room, I was tempted to tell the nurse, "I swear, I don't do drugs. Never done it, never thought about it. I don't even hardly drink--I had alcohol for the first time on my 21st, and had about 6 drinks my whole life. Just tell my company I passed!!" I knew that wouldn't fly, so I went back for round 2.

Let me just say.........after 3 cups of water and getting myself to relax, when it rains...it pours.

I could've filled up that whole cup for her, let alone to the black line! Owned. I don't have a shy bladder and I can aim (after a practice round).

All in all, through the frustration of a ruined "plan" for the day and irritation at myself for "failing," I was able to see the humor in the situation...and thought it would be just another good excuse for a blog!

Before I Die

2010-01-11T22:05:00.004-06:00

For most people, thoughts about death and dying is really morbid, scary, and sad. A lot of that comes from the fear of the unknown. Where will I go? Do heaven and hell really exist? Will my family and friends be there? What will I do for eternity? and on and on the questions go. It seems that if there is no assurance about where the end of life on earth will lead, it would indeed be a dark thing to dwell on.

As for me, I tend to think about dying quite often. Most of the time I am very good at worrying and carrying a lot of anxiety about things unknown; however, when it comes to the end of my life, this is one thing I have never worried about. With much confidence I can say I have no fear in death--simply because I know my life here is but a moment and I have an eternity in heaven to look forward to. A place in which I will be in the presence of Yahweh, LORD, El Hakkadosh, Holy God. How can I be frightened of something that will only be the sweetest homecoming I will ever experience? I am grateful God grants me each breath that He does, and by His grace I get to experience the joys of life--in all that God gives and in all that He takes away. It is a process I will never complete, this thing called living, but I am in it until Christ calls me Home.

Until then, though, there is one thing I will question and probably worry about while I take it day by day here: I consistently wonder whether or not I have been successful at things that matter. I think about when I stand before my Savior and I wonder if I will hear Him whisper, "Well done, good and faithful servant." Essentially, I have to ask myself how well I am using the talents, gifts, and abilities God has purposefully given me. Something within me tells me that if I pursue any or all of my passions with the intent of bringing Christ the glory, He will be well pleased. In fact, more than being pleased, I believe Adonai will get an absolute thrill from watching me make the most of the love He has poured out upon me.

Going forward with that mindset then, and attempting to glorify Christ through my passions and my gifts, I have a list of 100 things I would love to do before I die. Besides, crazy dreams* come true:

1. Get published
2. Speak at a conference
3. Write a full screenplay
4. Produce a documentary film
5. Act in a play or musical
6. Take dance lessons
7. Go to film school
8. Try skydiving
9. Visit my family roots in Ireland and Italy
10. Write a book
11. Paint a picture on a canvas
12. Sing karaoke
13. Be on a reality tv show
14. Star in a Hollywood movie
15. Learn how to rock climb
16. Get a six pack
17. Visit NYC
18. Sail across the seas...or take a cruise
19. Get married
20. Attend a World Cup game
21. Bet at a casino in Vegas
22. Become a caricature artist
23. Adopt children
24. Own a puppy or two
25. Stand as someone's Maid of Honor
26. Upload a video on to YouTube that takes me to Good Morning America
27. Go to the Olympics! (to watch, that is).
28. Lose the addiction to Facebook and stay off for life....?
29. Have "Spiderman" kiss in the rain
30. Meet Sandra Bullock
31. Take photography and photoshop classes
32. Get lasik
33. Introduce Maria to Keith
34. Live in Minneapolis, Chicago, or NYC while I'm young
35. Own an ice cream shop
36. Shave my arm hair (again)
37. Get a tatt (for the 3rd time)
38. Fall in love
39. Randomly give 1,000 to someone who needs it
40. Learn how to be silent for a day
41. Ride a mechanical bull
42. Go on a blind date
43. Give my parents the opportunity to go on a MONTH honeymoon
44. Donate something to someone who needs it
45. Design a cell phone
46. Buy my own Toyota Highlander
47. Bring a famous person to know the Lord--I'm thinking Oprah
48. Attempt cooking again and again and again...until I'm just like Paula Dean
49. Come up with a word that gets put in the Dictionary
50. Go ghost hunting
51. Attend a strangers wedding and act as though I know him/her
52. Make the front page of the paper
53. Play in a soccer tournament one more time
54. Learn how to snowboard
55. TP someone, anyone!
56. Flip a trick on a wakeboard
57. Stand up for someone
58. Be the matchmaker for a friend
59. Plan a wedding or two
60. Have something named after me
61. Try stand up comedy
62. Eat dinner with Denzel Washingtion
63. Buy colored contacts
64. Scoop a strangers driveway
65. Take ice skating lessons
66. Become a mascot
67. Own an incredible amount of books
68. Eat ice cream in every state
69. Learn how to speak Italian
70. Tell someone "I'm grateful for you" every day
71. Write, write, write, and write
72. Read the Bible in a year
73. Have faith a miracle can happen in _____'s life
74. Roller skate dressed 80's
75. Make a call to Delila, 104.1
76. Do something crazy with my hair
77. Become an Aunt
78. Stay overnight in Disney World
79. Wear a bikini
80. Walk down a red carpet
81. Take guitar lessons
82. Earn my coaches license
83. Run a half marathon
84. Learn the "Single Ladies" dance
85. Fly a plane
86. See a show on Broadway
87. Throw a bomb dance party
88. Slip-n-Slide....with wet mud
89. Become extremely good at jump-roping
90. Get my picture in a magazine
91. Donate blood
92. Do the 32-Flavor challenge at Baskin Robbins
93. Shoot a gun
94. Bachelorette Party consisting of paintball or laser tag
95. Be a guest on Regis and Kelly
96. Buy a lottery ticket
97. Put together a 1,000 piece puzzle with no help
98. Swim with dolphins
99. Kick a field goal
100. Wink at a stranger on the bus

*BOLD = Accomplished

be Italian. with Irish Dance Shoes.

2009-12-30T19:16:00.002-06:00

Upon waking up on Christmas morning, December 25, 2009, I opened a very unexpected Christmas present: Irish dance lessons. For years I have talked about so badly wanting to learn how to move as if I just stepped off the stage of Riverdance, a real dream of mine. In fact, it's one of the top items on my bucket list. Knowing this, my parents got the ball rolling with four private lessons plus authentic Irish dance shoes. I am on my way! That same morning, I also received a "Flip" camcorder--I love making short videos and editing them--which of course led to an impromptu display of my skills. Although it may look as if I have had lessons, I have not--please, hold your applause. Enjoy the first of what I hope is many Irish dance videos!

Dear Spritz Cookie Press Company

2009-12-30T17:34:00.001-06:00

Dear Spritz Cookie Press Company,

My mother and I just spent an afternoon in the warmth of our kitchen testing out a new Christmas gift. It was quite nice, baking together with music playing in the background while snow fell to the ground outside. A memory to cherish, I can assure you.

Not to mention the Christmas gift was wonderful--Spritz cookies may come to be a holiday tradition in this household!

However, we do have one concern which we would like to address.

Granted, the Spritz maker was extremely easy to use and created some darling looking cookies (I am very excited to attack those little things, although three sticks of butter cause my hips to shake with fear) with which we are well pleased! It seems, though, that the cookie press formed some shapes which may or may not have turned out as they were supposed to. According to the pictures on the back of the box, we were aiming for what appeared to be three circles squished together--I referred to it as the "Holy Trinity" spritz. The other picture looked like a heart shaped cookie.

Well, Spritz Cookie Press Company, we ended up with some cookies that resembled certain body parts. It is essential to acknowledge that, yes, it may be the bakers mistake and it was us who did something wrong; on the other hand, it may be a malfunction of the press and you need to be aware of the problem.

We have included some pictures within our letter so that you may see for yourselves the problem we ran into. Luckily, no children were around and thus the situation was controlled...although, my 90 year-old Grandmother was a bit disgusted by the whole thing, and my father felt it a tad inappropriate. We just pressed out the cookies, though, and they came out as they did.

The products you have developed are being well used here at our home, we thank you for that! We look forward to the next time three sticks of butter make their way to our hips!

Sincerely,

the Boccella women

Cleaning Out

2009-11-25T17:59:00.003-06:00

Holidays for me are typically a time I go home and find myself cleaning: cleaning the house in preparation for family to arrive in the next few days, cleaning my bathroom that has so many stray hairs on the floor one would think I'd be bald by now, cleaning out my closet full of old clothes that are never worn, too tight, or simply just too ugly to ever again be caught alive in. Some years I find myself in the "pit" of our basement storage room. At one time it was an organized mess my parents worked hard to keep organized, but life happens and next thing you know, it's not really organized so much as in a disarray.

For me, it can be frustrating to go in there on the basis I'm pretty particular in keeping things neat and orderly-if something is out of place, it has to be moved or thrown out. On the other hand, if I find myself in the storage room just because, I actually love it. It's like a legitimate, real-life walk down memory lane.

I open one box to find all of the books that covered shelf after shelf after shelf of my bookcase that sat in the room to the right at the top of the stairs, in the house that sat on the corner of 130 S. Riverside Dr., and could be reached at 515-232-3664. I pull out one of hundreds of books and read, "Number the Stars," the book that catapulted my obsession with the Holocaust. Next, I find, "There's a Boy in the Girls Bathroom," one of my all-time favorite books as a kid. In the box I also find an assignment I must have done when I was in the sixth or seventh grade. My passion of writing started early, and I must admit, I'm pretty impressed with what I came up with! One of them (a concrete poem) reads:

"Lightning is s powerful, lightning is so strong. When it splits into the sky, it shouts, it cracks, it screams. You can feel it in your bones when it crashes into the sky."

Another, a limerick, says:

"I once heard of a girl who lived in a box cause she had those red chicken pox. Her parents wouldn't let her come in Because of that red colored skin So now the front door is covered in locks!"

Not bad, for such a young girl! I tuck the assignment back into the box and continue to look at my childhood books. I see the first Bible I ever received-it was baby pink and from mom and dad, given to me at the Ames Christian Pre-School graduation. On the inside cover I'd written down, "Jennifer, John, Betty, Madison, Terry, Kelsey (Carpenter), and Cheerios." To me, these words clearly state the things that meant the most to me and that I first loved-my parents, my first dog, my mom's side of the family, Kelsey-who was my first best friend, and the beginning of a long love affair with cheerios that continues even into today!

In the next box are the books I had read to me before I could read, also mixed with my very, very first looks into the wonderful world of literature. Granted, although I appreciate and find I have some gifts in writing, I didn't start off reading things like "The Great Gatsby," or "Charles Dickens," or the "Iliad" (although I wish I could say these were my first reads-how cool would I be?!). Instead, I devoted myself to things like "The Berenstain Bears and the Week at Grandma's," "Arthur's Birthday," and an Amelia Bedilia book or two. Eventually I even made it to Berenstain Bear chapter books-"The New Girl in Town," "In the Freaky Funhouse," and "Queenie's Crazy Crush" to name a few.

The thing I find next brings on a rush of memories, flooding my mind so clearly it's as though I'm nine all over again. And it's the reason I'm writing this blog.

For one of my birthday's, my parents had gotten me a Lion King themed cake. On top of the cake sat a big, green, plastic mirror--yes, a mirror. On the bottom left of the mirror was a little button and when you pushed it, you would hear the voice of Simba's father say, "Remember who you are." At the time of my birthday, I thought it was pretty sweet and kept it. It stayed in my closet at 130 S. Riverside, never to see the light of day.

Then, a few years later, I was doing what I was tonight--cleaning out. I remember I had found this mirror, and that I had looked long and hard back at the reflection staring me in the eyes. I pushed the button. The unique voice rung out loud and clear, saying, "Remember who you are." Immediately, I had started bawling. I pushed the button over, and over again, listening to those four powerful words--remember who you are.

As I found that mirror again today, hidden inside one of those boxes, I could not at all remember why I had started crying those many years ago when I found it the first time buried in the back of my closet. I don't remember what kind of season of life I was in-I was in middle school, I do know that. Why those four words struck such a strong chord in me at that time, I can't tell you. All I know is that I do remember thinking that, in some way, I was audibly hearing God speak to me. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and acceptance. I guess, even at that young age, I was keenly aware of how easy it is to be swept up in what the world says I need to be, who I need to be. It can be an overwhelming battle to fight sometimes. But, if looking at my reflection and staring into my big brown eyes simply to tell myself, "Remember who you are," will somehow bring me back to Truth.....then those four words are a reminder I hope to cling to even years from now.

It's always worth it to take a walk down memory lane.

DP3 - Dance Party 3

2009-11-16T12:51:00.002-06:00

Friends, Laughing, Music, and Dancing

Oh, the Crap

2009-11-12T22:22:00.002-06:00

Coming upon my car tonight at approximately 9:30pm, I noticed all of the surrounding cars that had once been parked in front of and behind me were now parked on the opposite curb. My immediate thought was, "Crap, I must be on the wrong side and I probably have a parking ticket..awesome." Well, close, but not quite.

The first word to pop into my head, crap, that's more like what happened.

Unbeknown to me, but apparently known by every other vehicle owner parked on that curb, the birds occupying the trees stationed beside my car come out to relieve themselves in big ways after 9pm. I'm not talking a few spots here or there, no no. I'm thinking more along the lines of my perfectly beautiful black Toyota suddenly transformed itself into a white Toyota. Ok, ok, maybe I'm exaggerating just a bit there, but truly I had no idea birds had it in them.

I did a quick walk around only to realize it was a blatant attack from all sides. No door, window, or panel had been left untouched. The damage was done, and I was suddenly stuck with a reverse dalmatian-looking car. I knew if the poop was allowed time to sit and dry, things would only be worse and harder to clean off. Turning the wipers on full blast and letting windshield wiper fluid flow like rain, I did my best to uncover BamBam from the mess I'd let it become. It hardly seemed to make a difference. So, next stop: gas station.

Granted, if I wasn't a college student and felt like I had money to spend on things like car washes, I would've taken the easy way out; however, I'm currently unemployed and living below my means. Like, way below. So, I took plan B--the window squeegies. For twenty minutes, BamBam and I spent some quality time together and got down and dirty. I scraped. I squeegied. I wiped. Again, and again, and again. Honestly, after a time it got to a point that I was chuckling to myself. Not only was I finding myself stuck on Welch Avenue on a Thursday night in my yoga pants and PJ sweatshirt cleaning CRAP off my BLACK car, but I realized birds must get upset tummies, too. Typically, when I think bird poop I think white with black. Well, the white with some black must be the healthy stuff (also the easy stuff to clean off), but there are birds that have solid black poop. Others have the runny white with yellow (he must be the one w/ the upset tummy?), and still others dropped chunky gray. Who knew?

Although BamBam is still in recovery mode and will at some point probably need to go through a car washing, it was an unexpected yet appreciated crappy night turned humorous.

Slowing Down and Connecting, a Challenge

2009-10-18T10:34:00.005-05:00

Within the last few weeks I've come to the realization that I hate the speed at which my life has been moving: Fast. Most of the time I feel like I have a second (or less...) to catch my breath before the next thing is coming at me--there is no time to enjoy, to process, to grieve, etc. A whirlwind of events, all the time. Sometimes I wonder if life has always been like this, or if its changed over the last few decades. Personally, I think someone hit fast forward, changing the speed of life. I guarantee that when my 90 year old grandma was at age 21 she was probably not feeling like life was moving at light-year speed...the television had just been invented, nothing traveled fast. Even when my mom was 21 I'm willing to bet things were (no offense) a little bit easier and slower. However, if I'm going to be honest with myself, then I have to admit that I am a part of the reason for things moving at such a fast pace.

I come from a generation that wants information fast and wants it now. What ever happened to the art of being patient? Does patience even exist in our vocabulary anymore? I readily admit I struggle with waiting and not knowing what the future holds (it's a control issue, me and God are working on it). I call it "limbo land" and that period of time of the "unknown" causes a lot of anxiety for me. Yes, some of it is simply how I am wired, but I would like to take a risk and blame some of it on my generation, too. Like I said, we don't know how to wait--how would we when things like text messaging, the iPhone/internet on cell phones, web-cam, iPod and MP3's, etc. are everywhere, allowing for immediate access to information, friends, music, movies, whatever! Call us the "NOW" generation, because we want everything now, now, now. Waiting seems to be a lost art, or only for those "older" less "hip" folks. For us, we send a text message and freak out if we don't get a response within the next minute or two. All kinds of anticipation and, in a sense, a kind of stress finds us in simply having to wait a moment to receive a 150-character or less response. Ridiculous! Things like Facebook have become a main source for direct and quick information. Who broke up with who and when? How does she feel about losing her job? He gets to go where for an internship? Answers to questions like these can be answered in seconds by quickly logging on to Facebook, checking the Mini-Feed, and reading some wall-to-wall conversations. Instantaneous answers, zero waiting. Now, now, now.

Not only do I feel like a lot of us, myself included, have forgotten how to wait, but there is a loss of sincere connection with those around us. Let me paint a picture for you, something I see everyday walking across campus. Personally, I like to walk with my head up, keeping an eye out for someone I may know and can say hi to as I pass by. Well, more often than not, what meets my gaze are students with iPods stuck in their ears and thumbs glued to cell phones. Zero interaction is happening, but instead its you, yourself, and your iPod or cell. How many times I've seen someone yelling so-and-so's name only to realize the person isn't responding because their music is playing too loud. OR another picture I see way too often (and I've done it too) is a group of friends eating dinner and praying--gotcha. N0, no, they're not praying! All their heads are down because they're all texting! Rather than converse with the person sitting directly to their left, a text is being written to someone who is somewhere else doing something else with someone else. Granted, in the grand scheme of things that doesn't seem like a huge deal--but I beg to differ. More than ever, I think, people are needing to to feel connected, cared for, as if they matter to someone. The funny thing is, all this technology has been invented to make us feel like it's easier than ever to connect with someone, right? But it's empty because it's not real. A quick text from your best friend is nice...for a second. Then it's gone. That text can't, and never will, compare to getting 3-4 hours of quality one-on-one chatty time, face to face. Actually, scratch that. Even a quick 30-second conversation with a person, face to face, is enough to fill up your entire day! Writing on someones Facebook wall will not fill that need for connection.

These realizations about myself (zero patience, now, now, now, electronic relationships getting too much time over the real thing) caused me to stop for a minute. I think I can help myself and this sense of "too fast" by 1) simply getting off of Facebook and spending that time with actual people--face-to-face conversations instead of wall-to-wall conversations, 2) cutting down on the number of text messages I send, and 3) being WITH people when I'm WITH people, I don't need to concern myself with that someone else doing something else somewhere else. I can be and need to be fully in the present. It's a challenge, to say the least, but I am ready to meet it head on.

There is no better way to slow the moment down than to actually be and live in the moment.