Author: Angela Dawne

Anyone Can-

~ Angela Dawne ~ Leave a comment

Anyone who can claim to “know me” knows I have a weird obsession with rewatching movies- In particular the Pixar classic, Ratatouille.

Okay, yes, I get that a cooking rat (meaning the rat is cooking, not the rat is being cooked. . . you’d be surprised how many people would misunderstand that) isn’t the most. . . pleasing thing to watch, but the rest of the movie is just *flails*. The aesthetic of it all. The expressions. The music. The random deep thoughts.

Yes, I’m watching it right now in my living room as I type this. AND I HAVE NO SHAME IN IT.

Growing up, my favourite part about the movie was easily the “soups up!” scene where Remy, the main character, corrects Linguini’s, the main erhm human character’s, soup mistakes. He dances around and throws various things into the soup and VOILA! perfection.

I still love that scene, but now that I’m old enough to not get bored during Ego’s monologue, I’m realising how much deeper the movie is. There’s an ongoing theme throughout the movie that’s summed up in the quote, “Anyone can cook”- coined by the great food artist Gusteau.

The critic, Ego, scoffs at the phrase, until at the end when he says-

In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.

Anton Ego, Ratatouille

Why am I writing a blog post based off a quote from a children’s movie? Because I think it’s completely relevant to us in the 21st century.

Anyone can be “successful” in what they want. Wanna be a good guitarist? You can! Wanna be a straight-A student? You can! Wanna be a self-published author? You can!

(*cringes* wow that sounded like an ad for something)

I think a lot. Probably too much for my own good. Anywho, the other day I was thinking about just different hobbies. My attention span is very short, and I tend to jump from hobby to hobbies. Music, cardistry, cooking, rock climbing- Yup, I’ve dabbled in them.

Basically, I tend to stick to something until I become proficient, and the “challenge” is lost to me. Am I a pro at them? Stars no. Far from it.

In order to be an expert at any one of those things, I’d have to stick to it for an extended period of time. I’d have to bore myself to tears, then find my love of them all over again. And quite frankly, my attention span- as previously mentioned- is virtually nonexistent.

I think that anyone can be good at something if they give it time.

Usually people say “oh, you have to do something you like in order to become good at it”. But I think if you’re going to the trouble to become good at it, you probably like it- Sooo I skip that step. (I’m a huge fan at skipping meaningless or given steps)

In Ratatouille, one of the characters, Colette (love her), tells Linguini how hard it is for women to get into “haute cuisine”. As Linguini stammers for an answer to how he thinks she managed to get into the business, she shouts-

Because I am the toughest cook in this kitchen! I have worked too hard for too long to get here, and I am *not* going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky! Got it?

Colette Tatou, Ratatouille

See? Even the characters in my beloved movie get it. You got to put in the work.

So whatever resolutions or goals or tasks you have set for 2021, or just in general (to my friends who think New Year’s resolutions are pointless- I see you), just keep in mind that you CAN do this. I know you see this message from everywhere, but for real- Keep your chin up.

You can do anything you put your mind to.

[disclaimer: “anything” within human bounds. . . you got me?]

Now if you’ll excuse me, Remy just fell into the sink, and this blog post has started to get cliche and bore me.

’til next time, mes amies!

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Just A Wish

~ Angela Dawne ~ Leave a comment

[inspired by All I Really Want, by Steven Curtis Chapman]

The moonlight cut through the thin window panes and lit the piece of paper on the small wooden desk. A pencil moved and began to form words.

Dear Santa,

Ryan paused and glanced around nervously. The other boys in the room were sleeping soundly, and the pencil scratching had only alerted the mouse in the corner, who paused to watch the young lad.

Sticking his tongue out, the boy leaned forward and continued.

I’ve been really good this year.

He paused.

I’ve been really good this year. I’ve tried really hard to be good this year.

Yes. Yes, that was better.

I didn’t mean to laugh when Benji ran into the door, but it was so funny! I admit I shouldn’t have closed the door, but I just felt an urge. You know what an urge is, don’t you Santa? Mr. Wright says it’s something all little boys have. You must have been a little boy at one time.

Johnny stirred slightly and mumbled under his breath, causing Ryan to pause.

But anyway, I just wanted to write you this letter. You probably don’t remember me.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? Of course Santa knew him. Santa knew everyone.

I’ve tried this letter writing before, but it hasn’t really worked. Thought I’d try again though.

He breathed in deeply. Surely Santa would be able to predict his wish. It was the exact same thing he’d wanted for the past, he counted, four? five years? Ever since he’d learned that Santa gave good boys and girls gifts.

But he’d never gotten what he asked for. Even on years when he tried extra hard to be good, so why should this year be any different.

Oh well, he’d come this far.

I want someone who will pick me up when I fall off my bike. I want someone who will make me cookies and laugh when I put the frosting on my face instead of yelling at me. I want someone who will drive me to all my games when I get big enough to play on a team.

He touched the scar on his forehead gently and winced.

I know that sometimes I’m bad and get into fights, but maybe if I had a dad to roughhouse with, I’d get it out of my system.

The moon was slipping behind the clouds, and Ryan knew he only had seconds to finish the letter before the orphanage plunged into darkness. Again.

And from what Tommy told me when he visited here last week, a mommy would be the best thing in the world.

I want a family, please.

Signed,

Ryan

Carefully, the redheaded little boy folded his letter and stuffed it in an old envelop he’d found earlier in the afternoon. Flipping it around, he wrote one word and before running back to bed barefoot. He’d have to remember to put it in the mailbox the day.

The envelop held one word for the address: Santa.

+ ~ + ~ +

Christmas is a time of giving and remembering why we give. But it’s also a time of love and family.

For a lot of kids who are either in foster care or orphanages though, it’s just another day that reminds them that they don’t have those two special people. I’m an adoptee, and I’m beyond blessed to have people I can call Mom and Dad.

I understand a lot of us can’t afford to bring people into our homes, or maybe we’re not old enough. But think of all the other ways you can bring joy to a child or teenager who has very little.

Angel Tree, Samaritan’s Purse, and Operation Christmas Child are all ways you can help out- Even though I’m not sure when the deadline is, and it might have already passed. . . details.

Just remember the blessing of family and friends this Christmas, ‘ey?

Stay warm, friends (:

Even the Snowflakes

~ Angela Dawne ~ 1 Comment

[faith references]

*pterodactyl screech*

(ooh, have you heard my theory on pink and fluffy dinosaurs? eh, another story for another time. . .)

Y’ALL, IT SNOWED. Honest to goodness fluffy white flakes of happiness.

(that quickly turned into slush and ice and not-a-fun-time, but that’s beside the point)

It can officially be winter/Christmas-time now. The snow has put me in the warm and fuzzy mood, so now I’m huddled up at my laptop typing dutifully. The background music of coffeeshop Christmas music will have to suffice though, because no way am I braving the snow, ice, and slush to go to a legit shop.

Driving to church today, I was rather stunned by the fluffy white flakes. Suffice to say we don’t get snow a lot, and I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve woken up to fluffy snowfall.

My brother was the epitome of patience as I managed to call out a dozen times during the drive- OHMYWORD THAT LOOKS SO PRETTY, QUICK, GET A PICTURE!

Priorities, folks.

As I was saying, the heavy (okay, not *heavy*, but heavy by my standers, ‘kay?) snowfall got my gears turning. I realised how much snow was actually falling. On top of that- I realised how much snow was melting.

I concluded that at the rate the snow was falling, stacking, and melting, there had to be [insert extremely accurate physics equation explaining the very accurate end result] millions of little snowflakes.

I remembered from my elementary days (we’ve all been there, don’t try to deny it) when in science I was taught that there are no two snowflakes that are exactly the same. Naturally, I thought that was pretty cool. Seeing as how I’d only seen a handful of snow, it never really struck me as that amazing.

Until today.

*glances outside at the melting slush*

. . .

*re-imagines this morning when it was all fluffy*

That’s better.

I mean, think about it. Even if this world was created entirely by chance, and the snow just happens to have trillions of billions of different designs- Wait, what am I saying??

How can this much beauty and precision be chance?

But let me take it a step farther.

The snowflakes are all designed differently, with unique features that will never be seen on another snowflake. Looking outside though, I can tell you that the lifespan of the snowflake post-the-great-fall-from-the-skies is approximately. . . a cup of cocoa (like how long a cup of cocoa lasts. . . you get me).

So if, say perhaps, there is indeed a Creator who has planned out the small detail of the appearance of a snowflake (the details of which a majority of people will never see, and no one will ever see with the naked eye), why are we so worried and stressed about ourselves or our lives? We live WAY more cups of cocoa than a snowflake. We are seen by so many more people, and we (hopefully) affect so many more people than a snowflake.

Earlier this month, my mother challenged (or nicely prompted) me to read a chapter of the gospel of Luke every day. I’ve been doing it with a friend, and the other day when I was going through a tough moment, I ran across a verse that I ended up sending to said friend.

Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?

Luke 12:24-25 [ESV]

Yeah, I know. It’s a pretty commonly used verse. But just because something is commonly used, does that mean it should be ignored? Pfft, no. There’s a reason it’s commonly used.

In this passage, He’s talking about birds.

But what about the snowflakes?

If God puts so much energy and time into creating a snowflake. And He decides where it will land and how long it will last.

Why do we have any reason to believe He doesn’t do the same for us?

You, my friend, are so much more valuable than a snowflake.

Remember that 😉

Rocky Limits

~ Angela Dawne ~ Leave a comment

Recently, I’ve gotten back into indoor rock climbing. (No, I’m not going to bore you or make you cringe with the “climbing to new heights” analogy *cringes*)

I want to talk about comfort zones though. The first few times I went climbing this year, I climbed cautiously. Nothing wrong with this, but Saturday when I went climbing, I realised where I’d gone wrong.

There’s a difference between cautious and safe.

Cautious was when I was climbing with the intent to not get callouses or blisters (a futile thing to attempt, as any climber will tell you). Safe was when I was climbing to the point where my hands hurt but didn’t hurt enough to affect my drive home.

The first few times I climbed, I stayed around the same level and attempted the same routes several times because I was comfortable with them. I balked at hard boulders and didn’t even look at the levels above me.

But like. Here’s the deal- You don’t challenge yourself, you don’t progress. Not exactly rocket science, but quite frankly it takes several times of hearing it for it to sink in.

On Saturday, I’d spent the whole week hyping myself up for the session and decided to challenge myself.

I did several things that night.

I got blisters (they really aren’t that bad after the first 24 hours, especially if you stop before they pop.)

I top roped a level higher than the previous session (first try too.)

AND. Most importantly- I bouldered a route set at a 45 or so degree angle. Like- It was slanted to where you’re basically climbing the ceiling. Wild.

This isn’t to give myself a shoutout about my climbing (I’m specifically not saying the level because it’s embarrassingly low, and Saturday was the only climb I was honestly proud of), but rather because it taught me something interesting.

Friends.

(or enemies, if you want to be legalistic about it)

It’s almost the end of 2020. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s hard to actively grow while sitting around in quarantine or while social distancing, but there’s still little things. Learning patience when *that* sibling decides to ask you for the upteenth time to go play with them while you’re trying to finish up a paper. Learning peace when you’re listening to an argument between your roommates. Learning joy when you get shoved at the grocery store while reaching for the last piece of gold- Erhm, I mean toilet paper.

For most of us, it’s so much easier to lock ourselves up in our rooms with our phones than it is to go out and interact with family members when everyone’s in a bad mood. But you won’t grow that way.

When I went climbing on Saturday, I didn’t climb recklessly. I knew my limits, and I tried to push them a bit. Instead of pushing my comfort zone, I pushed my limit.

You are more capable than you think. So be confident, not reckless.

You still have almost a month left of December. Make it count.

And pray forgive this very random and splattered post *apologises*

The Three F’s

~ Angela Dawne ~ Leave a comment

Okay, I get it. In a season of “What are you grateful for?” the answer of “friends, family, and food” is easy to spew out. Since most things fit under those categories, it’s pretty nice to use when you want people to quit bothering you about it.

Do you actually think about the question though? What does thankfulness really mean to you? Is it just naming things you’re priviledged to have?

I have a theory that the less a person has, the more they have to be grateful for. Why? Because what you lack in material things, you gain in other ways.

Lacking a permanent house? It makes family and home so much more important.

Having an autoimmune disease that doesn’t allow you to eat certain foods? Suddenly all the food you can eat gets a lot more appetizing.

I think if we can turn our thoughts of “I don’t have this. Sadness.” to “Because I don’t have this, it makes me grateful for [whatever it is that I ought to be grateful for]”, we’d be a lot happier on a whole.

Not to say I’m perfect. Goodness knows I’ve done my fair share of complaining (ask anyone. . . I literally complained to my mom this morning about taking vitamins instead of being grateful that I had the means to obtain them in the first place.)

Next time you’re approached with the question of “What are you thankful for?”, whether it’s a person asking or a sign at a store, see if you can’t change the complaint of the day to the gratefulness starter of the day.

And you can start with being grateful that this post is short enough for you to go on about your day with minimal interruption *winks*

All Things Coffee

~ Angela Dawne ~ 7 Comments

(yes, it’s late in the day. bear with me, m’kay? honestly- Isn’t this when all the students start guzzling caffeine? don’t look so innocent. . .)

IN HONOUR OF TODAY (or yesterday) BEING NATIONAL COFFEE DAY, I HAVE DECIDED TO TAKE IT UPON MYSELF TO WRITE A POST ALL THINGS COFFEE

Never would have guessed that was what the post was about, ‘ey?

I’ve been a barista for about 1.5 months, and it’s been a blast. I am by no means an expert (someone actually ordered something today that I’d never heard of. A “red eye”.), but I like to think I’ve been taught a few things.

And now, I shall pass it on to you so that next time you stare at a list of foreign coffee terms at a shop, you might be able to identify something and not order an iced vanilla latte (if you’re a barista, you’ll get the joke.)

COFFEE LINGO

“Pull a shot” -> make a shot (or double shot) of espresso

Espresso -> highly caffeinated coffee

And uh, I think that’s all. . . you probably knew those, so let me know if there are any terms you don’t know that Google doesn’t help with.

TYPES OF COFFEE DRINKS

Okay, if you’re a diehard coffee drinker, you’ll probably turn up your nose on this section, but bear with the rest of us false coffee drinkers, m’kay?

Espresso: Just a straight shot of intense coffee. It’s generally less than two ounces, and I’m not joking when I say it’s intense.

Latte: A shot of espresso with milk to top it off (or more like- a cup of milk with a couple ounces of intense coffee.) Typically, people order this with a couple pumps of flavoured syrups, like the well known pumpkin spice latte. Or the fall-back “iced vanilla latte” that literally everyone orders.

Americano: A shot of espresso + hot water to top it off.

Cappuccino: A shot of espresso with milk that is half foamy and half just hot. A “real” cappuccino is apparently less than 8 ounces, but if you go to some big name coffeeshops I won’t name, you can get it in bigger sizes. It’s basically just a latte at that point.

Cortado: A shot of espresso with a wee bit of milk in it. Essentially a less complicated cappuccino.

Pour Over: It’s like drip coffee, but more technical. It’s easier to get different types of blends, because they’re ground specifically for your cup of coffee. Though at home you would generally do this by hand, most coffeeshops are equipped with helpful machines that pour at just the right speed to produce delectable coffee.

Dirty Chai: Okay, this isn’t technically a coffee. . . but neither is a bunch of those things *points up at the list*. A dirty chai is just a chai latte with a shot of espresso. Yes, I know. That caffeine shows you’re living on edge. . . but so does the fact that you totally procrastinated on studying for that 8am exam tomorrow.

What’s the difference between iced coffee and cold brew?

Honestly, they really do seem to be the same thing.

However.

Iced coffee is typically the house blend- But iced. Whereas cold brew is legit brewed cold (surpriseeeee.)

Some places do it fast, other places do it overnight. It takes a special kind of filter and container that holds the cold brew blend and is filled with water. It’s typically a notch higher/better than iced coffee- Or at least, so I’ve heard.

On a personal note. . .

So, to commemorate National Coffee Day, I did something for my coffee loving friends.

I’m talking legit coffee drinkers. The kind who drink three espresso shots with nothing in them. The kind who drink the cold brew straight.

Yeah. Those people.

(i love them so much)

I told said friends that if there happened to be any extra espress, I would drink it straight. I did this a couple weeks ago and nearly died (if you don’t know, I’m not a huge fan of straight black coffee. . . yes, I know I work at a coffeeshop. Problem?)

Well.

There happened to be a shot left.

(half a shot, to be precise, but that’s technically a full shot since a normal shot is a double shot and just- Okay, enough math)

So.

I drank it straight and videoed myself.

*coughs*

I nearly made a dozen faces in the span of two seconds, but then I noticed people off to my left so I cut the video, spun around, dropped the empty espresso shot glass into the sink, and tried not to vocally express my extreme displeasure.

Then I turned around and took the next person’s order. Let’s just say I was extremely grateful for the required mask.

The end. Hopefully you enjoyed this slightly informational post on that thing that has become a staple to millions if not billions of people world wide.

Talk about bandwagon!

Scripture Memory

~ Angela Dawne ~ Leave a comment

My friends think I’m ADD.

Honestly, I can see it. My brain is constantly going, and if I’m not moving around it speeds up. I do everything fast- Whether it be that late night last minute paper or an exam that was supposed to take four times longer than the time it took me (yes, I probably flunked it today, but that’s beside the point.)

It’s kinda nice, actually. I finish my homework really fast (kinda scares me honestly, because I always think I’m doing something wrong), and the quick pace of rush hour at the coffeeshop (yeah, I work at a coffeeshop and yes, it’s epic) is kind of my thing.

But. . . it’s also a bad thing. Because my brain is going so fast it can go from super happy about fluffy clouds in the distance, to super depressed because the barista didn’t put whip cream in my hot chocolate.

I also have a slightly ridiculous memory. I can remember things in sharp detail. . . however, this never seems to be the case for memorising study guide questions. . . weird.

This memory can get me into trouble though.

When I get bored, I tend to find something in my memory (subconsciously), and my supposedly ADD brain takes it and runs with it, dragging me in the mud (rude, I know.)

I’m not saying I’m ADD. Pretty sure my parents don’t think I am. My friends still do, though, poor souls. They gotta put up with me.

And my tangents

(*whispers* sine over cosine)

(*whispers* x cubed graph)

(*whispers* Rubik’s cube)

*coughs*

Where was I? Oh yes. ADD. That.

So here’s the deal. I can dwell on things like how I accidentally put normal milk in someone’s latte and how they’re probably halfway home and having to call a friend because they’re lactose intolerant and are now stranded on a sidewalk with no energy to move-

The whole scenario is just messy, and I won’t benefit from thinking about it.

Likewise, it’s easy for my mind to go to other dark or bad places if I don’t keep a close eye on it (although, I must say- My eye is pretty close to the brain *cackles*.)

Recently, at a retreat I went to, I heard someone talk about Scripture Memory. Yeah, I’d heard him talk about it a lot, and yes, I’d heard this particular speech given several times. But for some reason or another, it actually stuck (I know, shocking), and I decided to do something about it.

Like I said, memorising for me isn’t that hard (thankfully). What’s hard to actually setting aside time to intentionally do it. And y’know. Practice.

So I decided that I would start to take my verse pack* to work.

This coincided very nicely with a week where I was mostly working by myself. Let me just say- Pacing back and forth while reciting verses out loud through a mask is a STRUGGLE, and if you have asthma I would not suggest it. But y’know, you gotta push through, so somehow I kept going.

Scripture memory used to be a big deal in my life. My mother used to have our family memorise different verses or passages or passages a lot, and we’d review together and work on new ones.

But then when we got older, my parents kind of stopped enforcing it- Wanting us to figure it out for ourselves. And I’m ashamed to say that Scripture memory hasn’t been as high a priority to me as it should be.

ANYWHO THAT WAS A TANGENT

*coughs* I won’t follow that with the train of thought I’m thinking.

Memorising scripture has been ridiculously beneficial in ways I hadn’t predicted. I started with verses I’d already memorised in NIV and tried to work on getting them down in ESV. So most of the verses weren’t necessarily new, though I tried to through in a couple ones that had hit me in quiet times.

I thought I’d just work on them behind the coffeebar, and that would be that.

But oh.

God is so much bigger than that, y’all. You can’t confine Him or His Word to a small area or a time slot.

I’ve found myself being constantly reminded of the verses throughout my day. I’m hiding it in my heart, not just so I can combat sin, but also so I can meditate on them day and night.

I really do think Scripture memory can change your life if you just give it a shot and do it on your own accord.

Because let’s be honest.

If someone else has you do it, you’re doing it for them- Not you. You gotta do it yourself. You gotta make the decision.

Like I said, I’m not perfect. I don’t know if I’ll be able to last long, but I sure am going to try because it’s worth it. I’ve been able to meditate without trying, because now my ADD brain just constantly runs the verses through my brain trying to dissect them.

It’s pretty rad.

[* a verse pack is about half the size of a normal folding wallet. It has four sleeves that hold custom made cards that are slightly smaller than average business cards. Usually people write their verses on these cards as an easy way to work on Scripture Memory. Let me know if you want a more in-depth explanation/description of this! I don’t want to turn this blog into a Christian lifestyle, or just any lifestyle kind of blog though, so I won’t fill it with a lot of Christian walk tips and such]

My Father

~ Angela Dawne ~ 3 Comments

When I was about twelve years old, we moved.

Nothing fancy, just another flat in the same city. What was exciting about this place, though, was the fact that I wouldn’t be sharing a room- For the first time in my life.

Yeah, I was pretty stoked.

I loved my room.

Until my brother got a loft bed in his room. Yeahhh, let’s just say jealousy really is a thing- Especially amongst siblings.

I like to think that I hide my emotions and thoughts well, but uh, apparently I don’t (though honestly- Who can really hide anything from their parents?)

In under a month, my father had built me a loft bed out of an old bunk bed.

Like

Whoa

My dad’s pretty great.

Not a lot of guys will hold a shaking little girl late at night who’s scared of the bullfrog from a Hermie and Friends episode. Not everyone thinks to grab those extra free business cards at stores to bring home to their kids. Not a lot of guys randomly bring home gifts from Walmart “just because”.

He’s the man who fills up the car, even if I completely forgot to tell him it was on E, and he can only hope it doesn’t run out on the way to the station.

He’s the man who will give me a hug in the car in the middle of the night when I’m crying my eyes out without giving me any of the much-deserved judgement.

He’s the one I know I can rely on if I was two states away with a flat tire (even though he’d probably be internally facepalming that I’d forgotten how to change a flat.)

All this to say- My dad is pretty great.

That’s not to say he’s perfect though, and he’d be ready to admit it (humility- Another good trait.)

He makes mistakes, just like everyone else. He gets angry. He did and does things he regrets.

But he’s working on it. Of course, being mortal, I generally don’t see the changes- I only see the faults.

But if I look at things more objectively, I realise how he’s getting better at things he used to struggle with. And I start to realise that he does certain things because he loves me- No matter how annoyed with those things I might be.

I don’t wanna have to text every thirty minutes while I’m out with my friends. But my parents make me do it because they care about me and want me to be safe.

So I do it.

(with a hopefully good attitude)

My dad is servant hearted- Pretty sure that’s his spiritual gift, but honestly he’s so talented it’s hard to pin down just one.

This means he tends to show his love in service, which is uh not my love language really. And it took me so many years to realise this. I regret that it took me so long, but I’m glad I realise it now.

Sometimes I just sit around and think (shocker, right?)

My dad’s pretty great.

What if there was someone exactly like my dad, but minus any form of human flaw, and plus a lot of supernatural things like knowing everything there is to know ever.

Yeah, that’d be pretty cool.

And fun fact-

He is everyone’s father.

I have a physical father here on earth who’s pretty amazing. But my Father in Heaven is straight up awesome. You should get to know Him sometime.

John 3:16 + Matthew 20:28 + 1 Corinthians 8:5 + Psalm 68:5

Rest

~ Angela Dawne ~ 2 Comments

And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. 

Genesis 2:2 [ESV]

Believe me- I get it.

In a world that’s going 24/7 no matter where you look, the concept of “rest” seems foreign.

I’m talking serious rest. Not just- Oh let’s plop down on the couch and binge Netflix (which, I actually don’t have, but y’know. it’s the aesthetic that counts.) It’s not even “Okay, everyone leave me alone I’m going to stare blankly at this wall.”

There is no “right way” to rest. It’s subjective.

I live by a college campus where my parents do college ministry. Yeah, it’s pretty epic- I get to use that as an excuse to hang out with all the cool college kids *cue sunglasses*.

I’ve noticed something though. Everyone else on staff or helping serve are literally going twenty-four/seven. Yeah, not exactly 24/7, but close enough. During the first week of school during the freshman outreach events, most of the staff didn’t get home until 2am, and had to be back on campus before 10:00am.

Yeah.

My whole family is extroverted. Most of the people I see around the ministry building are extroverted.

But I. . . heh, yeah no. I am a little introvert who has been THRIVING in quarantine.

So being around extroverts and around people going hard all the time, I’ve not really been taught the practice of rest.

Most people are told to rest on Sunday, right? Well. . . when you’re in a ministry family, Sunday is preeeetttyyyy busy. So, there’s that.

PLUS

A lot of time, alone time/rest sounds selfish.

And okay, I’ll give you that. Too much alone time = overthinking = self-analysis = depression = yeahnothanks.

However, neglecting yourself isn’t the answer either. ESPECIALLY if you’re constantly pouring into other people.

This past week, I’ve had the opportunity to meet one-on-one with three women I really admire.

One is a college girl who is where I wanna be one day (hey- I can dream, can’t I?)

Another is the wife of a staff member who has a ton of GREAT advice that I’m still trying to fully grasp

And the last was a someone my parents knew from way back when. She has some kids my age, and they’re in the mission field (where I wanna be one day, even if it’s not this specific country)

I admire all of them for different reasons, but they all have a couple things in common.

A solid quiet time, and the ability to rest.

I won’t go into quiet times, because that’s a whole ‘nother post, but there’s something to be said about rest.

One of them mentioned occasionally going to a coffeeshop to get away and just read her Bible and journal. It’s not much, but it’s “enough” to keep her going and thriving.

Another mentioned just being able to sleep in, and hang out with her husband and just relax.

There’s not right way, it’s all subjective. But it is important.

Today, I went to Chick-fil-a (they gave me two extra nuggets, but do we expect anything less?), got a coffee at the coffeeshop I work at, and am currently writing this on the large patio at our ministry building.

I got a chance (after I wrote that English paper I’d been dreading) to chill, eat, read a book, text some friends, and write this scatterbrained post.

For me- That was rest. Just being able to breathe and not think about the million things that are coming next week or even later today (*instantly starts thinking about the million things that are coming*).

I know this was kinda all over the place, but hopefully you got something out of it.

It’s okay to rest.

I mean.

Come on.

If the Creator of the Universe rested, the least you can do is take thirty minutes to journal and regenerate, yeh?

(the end.)

(Keep an eye out for more posts though, because I have started having lotsa thoughts. . . they just have to marinate in my head for a hot minute before I can type them out semi-coherantly. I’m working on coherency. . . it’ll come. . . or so they say.)

Surprise- The Sun Still Rises

~ Angela Dawne ~ 8 Comments

You now what’s weird? No matter how miserable I feel or how many tears I cry or how put-off I am with the world- The sun still rises.

The audacity.

Not only that, but y’know that paper that’s always inconveniently due within four hours from now? (yes, we all know it was technically due two weeks from now but then something happened and suddenly it’s due in literally four hours and nothing is on the document) Well, I’ve discovered that no matter how long I stare at the computer, the thing doesn’t write itself!

Honestly, it’s rather rude of it to assume I’m going to do all the work.

Okay, for real though. No matter what my emotions “in the moment” might be, they don’t change my situation. They only change my mindset and approach.

When I come home from work and have way too much physics homework to work on (me? procrastinate until the last few days? pfffffft. . . you know me too well), and the dishwasher is still not unloaded, I have a couple choices.

I can yell at my brother to please come help me.

I can leave it to see if someone else will empty it in the next twenty-four hours.

Or I can do it myself.

Let’s say I decide to do it myself. Well, now I have even more options. I can either do it with the mindset of- Blast it, I have to clean out the dishwasher AGAIN. No one in this family EVER does anything (I’m a melodramatic teenager, what can I say?)

Or

Or

Or

I can think- My father’s been working hard all day going to and fro and helping other people. My mother’s been helping other people, and she went out of her way today to run an errand with me, hang out with my brother, and make me supper early so I wouldn’t starve at work. My brother’s been doing great at school and work, and he deserves a chance to just chill before Lyfe starts back up.

And get the dishwasher emptied.

Because the truth of the matter is- That dishwasher is going to be emptied eventually (or so we hoped), and my mindset isn’t going to change what other people think about it, or what happens to it.

It will only make the job more enjoyable or unenjoyable (that’s a word, isn’t it?)

And here’s the deal: This mindset applies to a LOT of things.

I can think- I HAVE to walk to class in the rain then go home and clean the bathrooms. Or I can think- I GET to walk in this beautiful rain (and hope it doesn’t drench my laptop, heh) then I get to go clean and blare some music and relax that way.

It really is about mindset.

This isn’t to say I’m perfect (literally anyone who knows me will hastily assure you otherwise), and I CERTAINLY don’t always have the right mindset.

I’m just saying that in the moments of epiphanies, I attempt this mindset, and it works out pretty well. Nothing is going to be affected by my emotions (unless I have a really bad attitude, and I’m around other people. Or, y’know, positive attitudes affect other people too. . . try it sometime), therefore I shouldn’t be so self-centred as to think that my annoyance will change anything.

‘Cuz, folks.

That sun’s gonna rise whether we want it to or not. Might as well greet it with a smile, ‘ey?