Unfailing Love

"Many a man claims to have unfailing love, but a faithful man who can find?" Proverbs 20:6

During my bible reading the other day, I came upon this verse and it really hasn't left my mind. I keep thinking about this unfailing love. I try to imagine what it really, really means to possess unfailing love. For someone to never stop loving you no matter what decision, action, or situation you could be in. I don't know how God does it. Like no matter how badly I screw up, He still loves me unconditionally. I think about how right this verse is. It is extremely difficult to find someone that stays faithful to unfailing love. I myself can't say that I have demonstrated unfailing love through everything. I racked my brain for days trying to find someone that proved this. I continued to come back to the only logical answer that I could find. The only person in my life who has stayed completely true to having unfailing love for me. And that's my rock, my comforter, my number one confidant, my Snokums, my Rabbit, my mommacita, my beautiful mom, Jessica Jean Galloway. 

It's been a really crazy twenty years being my mom's daughter. If you know her, you know she's pretty hardheaded and incredibly fearless. And more often than not it is extremely difficult to keep up with her. She excels in everything that she puts her mind to. (Except golf, just kidding Momma, you're ten times better than me and have progressed tremendously.) I think back to the first time I went hunting with my tomboy of a mother. I was four or five. Laying a warm blanket on the ground, she told me to sit quietly and read while she looked over the Bulverde landscape. Softly she told me to cover my ears as I watched the spike walk into the open pasture, and then mom took the shot. Sure enough, the deer disappeared into the tall grass, and I impatiently waited for mom to calm down from her buck fever so we could go see it.  Tromping through grass that was about as tall as I was, I joyfully yelled that I had found a rabbit. Mom kept telling me that those were the deer's ears above the grass, and I insisted she was wrong and that I would catch that rabbit. Without surprise, I was incorrect. And so begins all the times my mother was right, and I was wrong. Which by now, is too many to count. 

Her love for me has made her someone that supports me like no one else. She has come to all my major events through my life. And she has come with her screaming voice ready to go. I remember how she coached my eighth grade softball team with my dad. At times, I hated being the coaches daughter, but other times it was the coolest thing ever. Seeing my mom in action has to be the best motivator ever. I don't know how she does what she does, but she handles a position of leadership excellently.

She's been my go-to since I was young. Through every best friend breakup, every boyfriend issue, and every major setback I have ever faced, she has heard about it first. My mom is the greatest problem-solver I know. She handles crazy situations with ease and confidence. It is so admirable. I knew that if I told her I needed help with something, she would fix it. She always did, and if she couldn't fix it right then, by goodness she was wiping my tears and telling me she was going to. That was something I could depend on. That was my rock through every wrong decision or action that I made. And believe me, there's been some two a.m. phone calls that only my mom could have gotten me through. 

She's also been my strength. Losing my dad is incredibly difficult, but I know that I would not be the person I am after all of this if it was not for my mom and her strength. She was the first person I could see, although incredibly blurred, when I was pulled out of the ambulance the day of the accident. She crawled in my hospital bed with me, and sang to me until I could drift off to some sort of sleep. She was the first person I saw when I woke up the next morning, and she was the only person who could reassure me that even if daddy didn't make it, everything was still going to be okay.  She has calmed me down from nightmares and anxiety attacks like no one else can. She tells me that I am her strength and her pillar through the craziness that we call life in the past eight months and nine days, but that is wrong. She makes me strong. 

It amazes me that even after the terrible wrongs that I have done, my mom still loves me. It has never been a different kind of love either. If anything I feel like her love for me is stronger and more connected than ever after I mess up. I don't know how she can do it. It is so difficult to possess unfailing love, but I am so grateful that she does. No matter how hard I fall, how badly I mess up, how mean or hurtful I am to my mom, her love never fails. If my mom can love me like this, I can't imagine how much it is that God loves me. I don't understand how he can love us unconditionally and unfailingly, but I am grateful. 

Thank you for showing me how to be a great mother. Thank you for teaching me to be strong, determined, and confidant. Thank you for wiping my tears, singing me to sleep, and playing with my hair. Thank you for teaching me to do my makeup, walk in heels, and whip up a meal out of the oddest ingredients. Thank you for showing me how a wife should handle unexpected situations, how to love her husband, and how to follow her faith. Thank you, Momma, for unfailingly loving me. 

Two walks/Two hearts: One God/One Sisterhood

"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective." James 5: 16. I first read this when I was in the ninth grade. I remember looking at it and thinking why in the world would I want to tell people about the terrible sins I have committed. Why would I want to drag anyone else into what I had done. And why would confessing to each other, rather than to God alone, be something I needed to do. I probably thought about this for ten-fifteen seconds and moved on. I have never been so wrong in my life.

Just two months ago, my life was changed again. Except this was in an exceedingly positive way. I acquired an accountability partner that has stuck by my side since the day we started holding each other accountable on January 19th. I had never really thought about having an accountability partner before the opportunity presented itself. The idea had crossed my mind, but it was certainly never something that had stuck. Yet, I've never been more thankful that it finally did.

One evening in the middle of January, I was enjoying a sleepover with one of my dear friends, and I became incredibly emotional. As I started to sob my eyes out, I distinctly remember crying out for her help. I felt as if I couldn't live anymore. I hadn't given up on God or my faith but it was becoming exceedingly difficult to cope with the boat accident. My flashbacks were increasing, my nightmares were back, and I missed my daddy's guidance and heartfelt hugs more than ever before. I had tried to find distractions, but they were sinful and not aligning with my faith. I was dealing with survivor's guilt which made me angry at myself for living; even more so, I was angry that I was having difficulties. I loved God and wanted to follow Him, but I didn't feel like I could anymore. My thoughts and actions had transformed me into damaged goods and the feelings of unworthiness were too much for me to handle. I confessed that I didn't know how I was going to start over this semester, I didn't know how to get through another six months without him. I certainly had no idea how I was going to do it as a broken, undeserving sinner. Without interrupting she listened to me pour out my heart and suggested a lifestyle change. She told me about something she had learned over the Christmas break, about "quiet time", how she wanted to incorporate it into her life this spring semester, and how she needed an accountability partner with it. She still doesn't realize that it was not her who needed someone to hold her accountable, it was, in fact, I who needed someone to hold me accountable.

Interestingly enough, my accountability partner and I grew up on different continents. Literally. We grew up 6,080 miles apart. One in Old River, Texas the other in Abidjan, the capital of a small country in Africa called Cote d'Ivoire. I say this, because I truly realize there is absolutely no handle on God. If He wants something to happen, by goodness, He will make it happen. This was the first amazing thing I realized when I decided to incorporate "quiet time" into my life.

The second awesome thing I realized about having an accountability partner is the fact that it's NOT someone you report to like a parole officer or someone you tattle to like a small child. It's someone you share your heart with. It's someone you turn to and say, "This is what my heart is feeling. This is what I think I need help on. What do you think? What does the bible say about this?" And as she picks up her bible she says, "Let 's find out together." Having an accountability partner is about growing spiritually with the Lord, about confessing your woes, your troubles, your struggles, your fears, your questions, your sins, and together finding a solution within God's Word. It's not an agenda you have to fulfill each day. It's not a checklist of making sure we are upholding a Christian appearance. It's a lifestyle of pursuing the Lord's Will.

The third uplifting aspect of having an accountability partner is the way in which we have changed our everyday lives to create actions that would be edifying to God. We call it "quiet time" or "Jesus time." It's the time we devote to reading our bible, learning something from God's word, and sharing it with one another every morning. I look forward to sending and receiving these messages every single morning. It's an encouragement that I can count on. I have learned more in the past two months than I think I did in the last year of my own bible readings. I will admit that during the hustle and bustle of life I have often put my bible reading on the back burner. But that's the positive of having my accountability partner, it is something that I am dedicated to. I want to have these talks and discussions about what we each have learned. I find joy in the mornings as I sip my coffee, break open my bible, learn the teachings of my Faith, then share them with my lovely friend.

The fourth beauty I have come to realize of having my accountability partner is how much it reminds me of my dad. There was a daily routine that occurred every evening at the Galloway Household. Dad would come to each of our rooms to say goodnight. In high school, I studied a lot and many times I would be surrounded my tons of schools books, papers, and complete chaos when dad would come to say goodnight. He'd ask me about my classes, tell me he loved me, then he would remind me to say my prayers. Sometimes he would even ask if I'd read my bible that day. Nothing condemning or accusatory. Just a subtle reminder of where my focus should be. I often feel like my dad was my accountability partner growing up. I would share with him things I had learned in my bible readings. I definitely asked a ton of questions, and Dad would always turn to the bible to answer them. It's the same way in my current partnership.

Honestly, it makes me feel normal again to have these moments with my accountability partner. It brings feelings of security, affirmation, and love to share my thoughts, concerns, fears, and joys with someone who also wants to pursue the Lord. Having an accountability partner reminds me that if I am damaged goods, then we all are, because we are all unworthy of God's love and mercy. We are all struggling. None of us deserve Him, yet He still wants us. When we actively pursue Him, He illuminates our paths and leads us towards His goodness. God doesn't want us to be confused and lost. He gave us a Light and His name is Jesus. My accountability partner reminds me of this daily.

As you can tell, I'm very grateful for my accountability partner. I've only touched on a few of the major positives of having this sort of relationship, even though there are a million different, uplifting aspects of it. I'm not telling anyone that they have to have an accountability partner to be a Christian or that this is the only way to actively pursue your faith. I am just sharing a positive influence and lifestyle change in my life that has transformed my approach to bible study, quiet time, and dedicating my life to the Lord.

My accountability partner and I often call our relationship our "soul sisterhood" and I mean what else could you call it? When you grow up on separate continents, live two totally different lifestyles, have two totally dissimilar walks to Christ, yet come together because you are both Jesus-loving college students, you know that God had a plan. I'm thankful to my soul sister for showing me Christ-like love, giving me heartfelt biblical truths, and for always listening to my heart without judgment.

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Survivors Guilt: Taking and Receiving

I visited my dad today. Except instead of going to the shrimp boat, I actually went to the cemetery. It's weird that I have to go somewhere besides home to see him.
The past seven months haven't been easy to say the least. There's been a lot of bad things happen, some not preventable, others self-inflicted. It's been hard to write, because I just keep hearing the same thing over and over in my head. And I think I can finally get it out. I'm sitting graveside as I type this, because I don't feel like there's anywhere else I could write this.
Two Decembers ago, I was still at that angry and confused stage. We were all piled up in the suburban headed to my grandparents ranch. All four of us kids were just cutting a rug, like normal. We got close to downtown Houston, and I remember looking at the skyline as dad started talking. He had saw a distant friend at the processing plant that day when he was hauling in his shrimp. They were talking about nothing major, and I can't remember how the conversation turned, but Dad said they began to visit about his friend's daughter who had passed on. 21 years before on that day, his 19 year old daughter was in an automobile accident where her car was flipped into a canal and she drowned. Dad started crying at this point, and I did too. I was 19, and I couldn't imagine dying. Dad went on to say how his friend told him how angry he was at God for so long after his daughter passed. He said he was hurt that God could take the most important person, his only daughter, out of his life. And then he said one day he met this preacher who changed his life. The preacher knew he was angry and listened to his logic and backstory on why he was made at God, then he said, "God didn't take your daughter away, he received your daughter." I lost it and so did everyone else in the car. I just sobbed as I watched my dad try to gain enough composure to continue. He looked at me and said, "Brina, I just thought all day of you and how angry you are that God took your friends away, but baby girl, God didn't take them away. he received them. I don't want you to be angry anymore." As I continued to cry, I told Dad how much I loved him and watched as momma wiped dads tears away. Comforting him as she always did. I hear my dad telling me that every day. I hear his voice in my mind, reminding me not to become angry. I can't even be sad for him, because I know Jesus was standing there waiting to receive him. I'm not mad at God. But I'll be the first to say that I'm mad at myself. I have struggled with survivors guilt since day 1. A day doesn't go by that I don't see the accident, hear his voice telling us to come to the door, and then losing sight of him. I think back to how hard I tried to get everyone out of the boat. I have come to the reality that I did everything that I could. It's hard to live each day with the happy heart I had before when I feel this little nudge of, "you should have died too. You weren't suppose to make it." It's hard to listen to that voice and smile at your friends jokes. It's hard to go to class and listen to oh-so-boring geology lecture and think, "I'm not suppose to be in this class anyways. I should be in the cemetery next to my dad." But I've fought that dark, little voice of Satan. Because with every single part of my heart, I know I am alive for a reason. I've yet to figure out the why, and quite honestly I'm done trying to. I am going to live everyday with the assurance that God received my dad and that it just wasn't my time yet. Something's weren't meant to be understood. And that boat accident was one of them. 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding." Proverbs 3:5

Love

There has been a lot of ideas running around my mind lately. Considering Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, some of them have been about love. I remember last year’s Valentine’s Day. I was going to the Christian Conference for college students called Passion. I was excited, because I knew I was not in a good place with my walk with Jesus.

I will be the first to admit that God and I haven’t always been on the same page. After the deaths of four hometown friends, I felt myself develop an anger that I didn’t know how to control. I loved God. I wanted to live my life for Him. I wanted to spread His word and be a light for Him. But I was mad. How could He just keep taking all of my friends? How could He continue to allow all of these friends and families to go through such terrible pain? Why? Why? Why? I can say that I have never felt a gut-wrenching, never-ending anger like that before. From August 2013 until February of the following year I was a mess. Thankfully, the words of Beth Moore at Passion brought me to reality. God gave this life to me. It was the first thing He ever blessed me with. It also is the only thing I have to spread God’s word to others with. I needed to stop questioning why He did the things He did, and just focus on spreading His love. I would get my answers one day, but right now was the time for me to focus on Him.

Totally amazing message that Valentines Day; I was truly in awe. And then I checked my phone and I had a voicemail from my mom. “Hey Brina, just calling to tell you I love you! (Dad’s voice in the background—Daddy loves you too!) yes, Daddy loves you too. I hope you have a fantastic, amazing, phenomenal experience and know Mommy and Daddy love you baby, bye pumpkin!” I’ve listened to this voicemail four or five times just today. Mom and Dad must have been on their way to Valentines dinner and called just to tell me they love me. Wow, what an amazing love they have for me. I don’t know how to describe it, considering I have never been a parent. But neither one of my parents went crazy when the November before I had admitted to them how much anger I had, how depressed I felt, nor how potentially suicidal I was. Neither one of them doubted that God would lead me and I would find my way again, so they just continued to pour out their love to me.

As I contemplate this love between a parent and child, I think of all the other types of love. The love between friends who have been ‘besties’ for years, the love between new found friends, the love between siblings, the love between a husband and wife, God’s love for us, Jesus’s love for us, our love for our Lord and Savior. Each love different, but still strong, stable, and capable of withstanding any kind of battle.

I feel like anyone who hears Valentines Day and the word love thinks of romantic love. I agree, I do too. But I’ve been thinking about this a lot on my trip to West Texas. And I have this new idea about love.

I have always been taught that God is love. That used to be my favorite verse. 1 John 4:7-8 “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.  Anyone who does not love does not know God because God is love.” It’s a verse that is often taught during youth ministires, small groups, and in devotional books. However, if you skip just a few verses down it says “Beloved, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us,” 1 John 4:11-12.

When people ask why I am so nice, so sweet to everyone, so kind, I literally think of this verse and think of the love God gives us and wants us to give to others. As Christians we should have love for everyone. It’s hard to do, believe me, I know. But if God loves us so much, why can’t we love others the way that he loves? Unconditionally.

Valentine’s Day is a great day to celebrate the love within your romantic relationship. But it is even cooler if you can recognize the love within all of your relationships and remember God’s great love for us that can be seen in His son’s sacrifice. Don’t forget that we are all sinners, but God loves us anyway. Nothing we can do, can change God’s love for His children. So love everyone with the most edifying for Him, Christ-like way.

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.  Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.”  1 John 4:7-8  

“Beloved, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” 1 John 4:11-12

Sleeping With One Eye Open

Dolphins have always been a large part of my life. They were my favorite animal growing up; I mean literally, at birthdays and Christmas everyone always gave me dolphin themed memorabilia. I had the notepads, stickers, miniature desk see-saw with dolphins as the seats, posters, wall canvas’s, you name it, I probably had it. When I was really young, I can remember being out on the shrimp boat begging Dad to tell me when the dolphins came up to breathe so I could see them. I would sit on the bunk and just stare at the waves, hoping, wanting, yearning to just see one dorsal fin breakthrough the surface. I had never seen them before, just heard the fantastic stories at dinner. Of dolphins jumping the front waves of the colossal red tankers, of them swimming up to the boat when Dad was bringing in the net, of them soaring out of the water as they swam and played.

Interestingly enough, dolphins are the reason we found out that I needed glasses, that I really, really needed glasses! Dad and I were out on the boat, I was probably seven or eight. Dad got really excited, jumped up from his chair, and told me to watch the dolphins as he attempted to point them out for me. Standing inside the cabin, I couldn't make them out. So we walked out on the deck, and he tried pointing them out again. I struggled to see what he was talking about. Everywhere he pointed, I just saw water, nothing at all specific. He knelt down next to me and told me to look down his arm and right over his finger, right at the dolphins. Placing a hand over my forehead, I leaned forward, squinted really hard, and still saw nothing but water. Within a few short weeks, the school did their annual hearing and vision tests… low and behold I definitely needed glasses. Dad always stated that it was because of not being able to see the dolphins that he knew I needed glasses.

My parents always supported my love for dolphins. They even took all of us kids to the Natural Museum of Science, and we watched the IMAX documentary on dolphins. I was thrilled. It was the coolest thing I had ever watched. It was during this film that I learned that dolphins sleep with one eye open. They shut down one hemisphere of their brain and close the opposite eye. This enables them to watch out for predators that could harm their calves or themselves. Me being the infatuated child that I was (let us be real… I think I was like twelve at this time) tried for weeks to sleep with one eye open. Finally, I admitted failure and decided I would be the worst dolphin to every swim the face of the earth.

Just the other day, I was driving over the Fred Hartman bridge watching the Houston Ship Channel like the time I was watching for dolphins. I was instantly thrown back to those moments of trying so hard to sleep with one eye open. I thought about how I live my life now. How I feel like I am sleeping with one eye open. Waiting for the absolute unthinkable to happen again. To have my life ripped away from me in the most traumatic way. Or rather, not have my life taken, but to live again with the haunting of a casual day gone haywire. In that moment, I realized how faithless I was being. 

We shouldn't live our lives with one eye open, waiting for the improbable to occur. God says we will have trouble but to take heart for He has overcome the world. This life is so fleeting, therefore we should live it with the idea that everything comes and goes at some point. Happiness and sorrow. Joy and frustration. Love and hurt. Peace and turmoil.

As the New Year ensues, I encourage you to re-evaluate how you are living your life. How positive is your mindset? How uplifting to others and to yourself are you? Determine where the negativity is in your life, and eliminate it. Life is too short to focus on or wait for the bad things to occur, find the joy in every moment and remember to thank God for it.

“I have told you these things, so that in my you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Strongholds, Spaghetti, and a Savior

One white Christmas tree. That's all it takes for everything to hit in full force. It's been nearly 17 years since I had a white Christmas tree. The last one will forever hold a special place in my heart.

I was three years old and we had arrived home with our real tree (everyone is normally using artificial trees these days, including ours. Such a shame really). I was so excited, I loved our Christmas tree. Dad got it all set up: stand, skirt, water, all the fixings. Then he pulled these cans out of this white bag and asked if I like snow. It gets a little cloudy, but the next memory I have is of being really high up. Dad is holding me and I'm sitting almost on his shoulder. There is white snow everywhere, and our tree is beginning to be more white than green. My laughter and his laughter mixing is what I remember more than anything. His rich, boisterous laugh that would make anyone else laugh too. The head-rearing, beautiful laughter that only comes from true joy. That's all I remember from my man-made snow night. Love and laughter. 

Flash-forward to November 30, 2014. I am home with my little people, Lauren, Alexis, and Cody, my siblings. Mom's out visiting a friend. Its a Sunday night and everything is cozy and just feels like home. I'm in the kitchen making turkey spaghetti, Cody's sitting on the counter visiting with me about his weekend, the girls are cackling like two hens in the living room. It suddenly dawns on me. I remember the white Christmas tree that Mom and Dad had bought on clearance after last Christmas. I leave Cody to stirring the sauce, and I hustle my way outside to get the tree from the shed. Lugging it into the living room, I call for all my siblings to come help me. Before I know it, we are all trying to get this artificial, snow covered tree situated in our living room. I hurry to the kitchen to stir my sauce, and I hear it. That care-free, loving, happy laughter that only comes from total happiness. And it's coming straight from my three siblings. Lu, Lex, and Codyman are everything that Dad was. I hear the tone of his voice, the teasing jests, the love. I'm overwhelmed with the beauty of the moment. 

I won't lie to you. I miss my dad more than a simple blog post could ever describe. I miss the way the gold flecks in his eyes would dance when he was happy. I miss the casual way he would wink at me when I was getting a lecture form mom. I miss every single on of his, at-the-time, repetitive lectures. I miss the way we use to play phone-tag. I miss calling him about classes. I miss his loud boisterous laugh that made me feel like I actually could say something funny. I miss him telling me that my brown eyes were beautiful...with a tad bit of mascara. I miss the way he would hug me so tight that my jaw would pop. I miss how he would cover me up with a blanket when I feel asleep reading a novel. I miss him making me watch those tear-jerking classics. I miss him crying with me in them. I miss him telling me goodnight, every single night. 

There are countless things, situations, hugs that I miss, but in that one moment with my siblings I realized that there is a part of him in each one of us. Although he is physically gone, there is something about each one of his kids that will always be him. 

I know the holidays are going to be difficult for a lot of different people in a variety of ways. Thanksgiving was its own unusual day, and Christmas will be like that this year too. All of the firsts will be difficult, and that is okay. As Matthew West (singer, songwriter) says, "I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be, I give up. I'm not strong enough, hands of mercy won't you cover me. Lord right now, I'm asking you to be strong enough, strong enough, for both of us." And the beautiful part of that, is that God is completely and totally strong enough for everything. If we give our lives, our bodies, our minds, then we armed with everything that we need in Him. He'll bring us through to a better day. He'll bring light to the darkness. He'll bring love in the midst of anger. He'll bring faith in a day of doubt. I encourage everyone to give their moments of hardships, sadness, difficulties, and doubts to our Great Creator and let Him be strong enough for both of you.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2. 

Looking Around

Hi everyone! It's been a little difficult to write the next part of my story. Lets be honest, it has been a lot difficult considering I can't remember it very well. I can't remember the details of the three hour conversation that Steve and I had. I can't even remember the first words he said to me. I can't remember all of the different things the other men were saying. I can't remember what all they tried to do to get me out. 

But I can remember the feeling of safety. I can remember and to this day still feel the safety in Steve's voice. The safety I knew I was going to get to. I can remember the darkness.The darkness of the walls. The darkness of the water. The oil seeping into my skin, my hair, my lungs. I can remember the feelings. The hope. The tangible assurance in Steve's voice that God had provided a way of surviving. Of being rescued from my dark, watery compartment. I remember the cautionary way he warned me of all the noise once help had arrived. I can remember the screeching of the metal being cut. The tattoo on the left elbow of one of the fireman, the pendant on the others necklace. I can remember being lifted up, and breathing fresh air. 

So many hands holding me secure. Someone taking and saying they would hold onto my little piece of metal. With my legs pulled up to my chest, my eyes remained forward and I looked at our shrimp boat. As the men continued to talk and make whatever kind of transportation arrangements they needed, I watched the water lap over the white letters "Mr. Anthony." Looking up, I recognized the red, white, and blue colors of my grandfather's shrimp boat. Making out three silhouettes, I remember pointing and calling out, "Thats my pawpaw. There he is!" Then it hit me. 

The white clouds were gone. The rain had cleared. A deep, blue, the sky was a clear looking glass. The water was absolutely calm. Silently still. A lingering yellowy, orange light told me it was getting to be that perfect time of the day. My favorite time of the day. The moments of the day when the heat had dissipated and it had finally cooled off enough to go throw the softball around, or work on my swing in the backyard. The kind of summer weather where my hair didn't explode into a curly, frizzy mass--well not too badly anyway haha :)

My favorite memories with my dad happened during this perfect early evening stage of the the day. My first deer I shot was during an evening hunt. My first softball practice, game, tournament. Daddy was always one of my favorite and least favorite coach. He'd push me so hard, that I would end up beyond annoyed and ready to just swing my bat at him instead of the softball. Yet, even later when he wasn't coaching me, he was my biggest supporter. Sometimes he was the only parent in the stands, and my teammates loved him all the more for it. Anyways, back to looking around.

From the moment they put me on the next boat and strapped me into the protective seat, I can remember every single person's name. Steve said that my senses were extremely enhanced due to the accident, but even a month later, I feel like they still are. People say near-death experiences make you appreciate life more. Sure, that's true. But what those people really don't understand is what it means to look around more. To notice the things you never thought as relevant before. On the boat ride to the dock where the ambulance was waiting, I remember watching a lone seagull glide through the sky. Just a casual seagull. No big deal. Not like I hadn't seen THOUSANDS of seagulls before in my life. However, this was different. I noticed the way it turned its head from side to side as it was choosing a landing spot. As it settled itself down with poise on a tall piling. I will never forget that sight. 

And in the days since the accident. Walking on campus, driving around town, eating dinner with friends, watching the kids get ready for school in the mornings, laughing with my mom. All of the normal, everyday activities that I have done for years, all seem different now, I notice so much more. Details. My mind is often unfocused as it skims from one little detail to the next. Its as if all of my "spidey" senses are completely on point 24/7. I get lost in the scene of things. And I love it. I love thanking God for the little specific things. I love recognizing and giving God those little "I see what you did there, and I love it" moments. 

Yes, I appreciate life more. I am more than grateful for what I have been given. But I don't see it as just an appreciation that I have for the gift of life. I see it as a recognition of the life I have been given. Maybe its the fact that I was in almost total darkness for nearly four hours, that now my eyes have become so enraptured with the colors of the world we live in. Maybe its just my way of "appreciating." Maybe its just that I have always noticed nature, and I am more than grateful that I can continue to experience it. Maybe its a combination of these things. But even now, as I look around at the quiet study hall I am sitting in, I believe that the biggest thing I have learned from the accident, is that we should all look around more. Truly observe the world we live in. Recognize the life we have been give. And find your joy in it. Find a joy in everything. Find the joy that God meant for you to experience in this breathtaking world He has created. 

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15;13