Adventures with Jesus

Evie1980 said:

Wow that sounds like fun! Can we try it? please? please pretty please? pretty please with sugar on top?

Please feel free to contribute whatever you like. Cynicism is a daily visitor to my house so I am not too concerned. I am not always the happiest person on the block and I don't always say the right thing! I am just good at editing here.... somedays! I even have my bad days here!

So anyway whatever you have to offer us please bring it. We are all just trying to survive as Christians in the middle of the jungle! We all have daily attacks from the bad guys, fears that are hard to overcome (if at all) and some weird situations to get overselves out of! Or maybe that is just me

God bless, Evie

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I concur.

Alright then, my next post will be a sample of the project that I'm working on, which just so happens to fit this perfectly.

It'll be a while, as I'm editing it to make it family-friendly.

As usual for a weekend, I couldn't remember my dreams. And, as usual for my weekend, it started on a Friday. Within a few minutes of waking up, I'd already decided that it was going to be an entirely useless waste of time. Or, in better words, it was time to study. Curling up with my textbooks and with Pandora Radio playing remixes of metal done by symphonic orchestras, I sunk into work for four hours. Tedious, boring, and completely needed for my academic success.


The remnant of the study session was spent staring blankly at my writer's notebook, which was high irony. We were writing creative non-fiction in class, and aside from this very story, I had no material. Why? Because it wasn't just any creative nonfiction, no. We had to base it off of an exercise in our book, or one we'd done in class. How splendid, because god forbid we do our own work.


A few hours of solid gaming later, my father's dwarven fighter and my human arcane archer stood at level eight, and I went off for a ten-hour stint in bed before waking up nice and late the next day a smile on my face-


“We're going to Home Depot.”


- a look of apathy on my face, ready to go right back to bed. It wasn't that I didn't want to go out, it was that I didn't want to go to Home Depot.



True, the wall needed to be fixed, but... ye gods. Home Depot was a place of dread, full of heavyset construction workers, various people in their forties, and horrendous customer service.


A shave and a shower later, I stood ready to go. Half an hour after this, I sat in my car with the engine running, still waiting. After another five minutes, the family was off to a nice, happy outing at Home Depot, complete with my godawfully loud music – level seven out of thirty. I could barely hear it and my parents were complaining about the noise. It was off to a great start.


The thing about Home Depot I hated the most?


The smell. It reeked, awfully. There was stale sweat, fertilizer, paint, concrete, oil, rotting lumber, and the slightly lingering scent of some industrial cleaner that served only to keep grime off of everything. The three of us stood by redwood boards, studying the plans my mother drew for the new backyard structure. Personally, I'd thought the last binge of outdoor work where my mother literally poured a ton of concrete would do the trick. Some people drank, others shot heroin. My mother did exterior home design.


My mother was a blur of contained energy, an executive-type with a master's degree in project management, a contagious laugh, and a dance to her steps. At any given time, one could find her catching a three-footer on her longboard, lugging around sixty-pound bags of concrete to build a walkway, or half a dozen other things, almost always with a simple and profound joy to every action. It was hardly a surprise that she looked half her age, and with a slight accent to her English that most mistook for Irish, all of my friends had reached the unanimous conclusion that "your mom is pretty cool."


As I watched the cheerful debate continue, I could slowly feel my good mood that I'd lost this morning get picked up by a stranger with free candy and molested. I lost track of just how long it took to decide, but sooner or later, we found ourselves in the Garden section. It was one of the few tolerable spaces of the store – sure, it still exhibited the pungent odor of fish, chemical, smog, and failure, but at least it had plants – and I felt some leftover creativity from last night. It was flower time, and I indulged myself in some whorton caladium, american astilbe, black walnut gladiolus, and bicolor acidanthera to plant.


The trip back was splendid, consisting of yet another argument and my aged '86 Chevy Celebrity dying twice in the parking lot. The engine had cut out on me at least seven times in two months, but for such a small gas bill, I could deal with a broken fuel gage, a bumpy ride, and the occasional engine stall. Besides, it was a surfmobile, plastered with bumper stickers, window décor, and an overhead rack perfect for hauling longboards. And with the backseat being able to go down, it contributed highly to my odds of re-christening the station wagon.


Eventually, in the spirit of "[forget] this, I need a break” I meandered off to my room at four twenty exactly, packed it in, and lit up. Getting baked is always an interesting experience – or at least, it should be. There's the initial period of fire and air, filling your lungs to the brim with smoke and holding it until your body is pounding for air, followed by a gradual exhalation of white clouds around you, the familiar plant scent lingering in the air around you. Rinse, repeat, and wait. I'd been trying out some salvia recently, and my body had gotten used to the sage – given that it took about two minutes to kick in before you were laying on your back, staring off into the sky with disembodied voices swirling around your head, I was almost surprised at how long it took for Mary to get busy.


Instead of a sudden sledgehammer to the frontal lobes, it was a gradual relaxation of the body's tense muscles, a steady blurring between rational thought and emotive-guided mental processes, and then before you know it - you're stoned. About sixty percent of all stoners go through the stage of muttering “dude I'm so baked” for the first few minutes until your attention span drifts off towards the nearest cool thing. In my case, it was a book. When your brain is soaked in THC, read a book you know and love – everything will seem new, vivid, and at at least one point you will need to put the book down to simply marvel at just how well-written the book is.

With no dinner in sight, I decided to go outside to see just what was going on. As usual, my parents were enjoying the backyard, sitting on the far swing with cups of Diet Dr. Pepper.


“Do you want to cook dinner?”

“[Heck] no!”


“Not really, but I will. When do you want it?”


“Whenever you're ready.”


“It'll be about eight thirty. I'll just start cooking now.”


After some consultation with my parents as to the entree of choice, I'd decided to make good ol' stove-cooked BBQ chicken with mashed potatoes. A simple enough meal, but I felt creative and I had the munchies. In other words, it was time to cook.


Three chicken breasts boiled with a squirt of barbecue sauce and some red wine vinaigrette dressing later, I had already decided to make some caramelized pineapple garnish. Tossing a handful of slices into a microwave-safe dish, I cut some butter into chunks, tossed it in, and added brown sugar, giving it a minute in the microwave at the time. A dash of virgin olive oil and barbecue sauce to the drained chicken to brown it on simmer, and I started mixing up the mashed potatoes, complete with a liberal shaking of Parmesan cheese, a bit of chicken bullion, and a few tablespoons of ranch dressing for flavor. Before I knew it, I'd served dinner to everyone, tossing a small handful of cheddar and mozzarella on the heaps of potatoes. I'd made another great meal out of an experiment and I'd need to cook it again, especially given the praise I received for it.


I spent the rest of the evening simply talking with friends about a variety of subjects – school shootings, the stark ignorance of the Democrats, female idiosyncrasies, and the ever-popular subject of everybody's favorite, passion online. Why I – and my friends – continued to fall in love with people online was a total mystery to me. It never worked and for the most part was devoid of physical affection, but we did it anyway. I hadn't dated someone I hadn't met first online since high school.


Between MidwestNinja (who actually wasn't from the Midwest and entirely hated the area) and I, we'd come up with a great plan to get [female attention]: sympathy sex from school shootings. Get shot, play up the emotion, and boom, instant morphine-aided bow-chika-wow-wow. Our alternate plan involved being the friend of someone who died, but that was a bit macabre. Bros before [loose-moraled females], after all, and if you'd meet a chick who'd [have sex with] you for getting shot or losing a friend you'd need to [wear a lot of protection]. DarkFay and I spoke of her emotions, of the person online who'd dropped the L-bomb and given her butterflies over the phone before we turned on the subject of love itself.


“Yeah, don't do what I did.”


“Oh, agreed. DarkFay doesn't do that.”


“...is it sad that I still want to fall madly in love and want to elope with someone?”


“No. You're in love with the idea of being in love.”


There's a few people who you can trust with your emotions and actually appreciate their blunt honesty. It's the kind of thing that could ruin friendships, but DarkFay and I had drank together, crushed on each other, shared cigarettes, shared a kitten, and cooked for each other back in Spokane when it was just two poverty-struck couples chilling together to save money. A little honesty wouldn't kill it and hell, we both valued the opinions of the other. It was like a breath of fresh air.


“I can live with being single. Hell, I'm writing again now. I just... want to be in love.”


“Yeah, I get that myself too.”


As I signed off and went to bed, it occurred to me that strictly speaking, it wasn't really an urge to get married. I just wanted to fall asleep with a warm body nestled against mine, the familiar scent of hair and well-worn sheets lulling me to dreams. I wanted to wake up next to someone beautiful, to be able to reverently and passionately run the tips of my fingers over her skin.


I wanted to cuddle, dangit.

Wow Evie, it sounds like you have had quite the adventure too. You know you'd always be welcome back here in Korea!

Evie1980 said:

Today I went for my job interview. I left home and had to drive over an hour to the airport. It is a nice drive and as it was only a day trip down to Sydney, I left my car in carpark and went alone. Yes, I went to another city alone. So far this year I have been in Seoul, Perth, Brisbane, Melbourne, Sydney. And I live south of Brisbane by about 3 hours. It is so tiring...

Anyway I left the Gold Coast with a beautiful sunny day and get to Sydney and it is raining. I don't have an umbrella so I get wet going to the interview. I then get to wait an hour after my interview appointment and fill in more paperwork before I have a mediocre interview. I was so tired by this point (and cold) that my mind was not working as well as I wanted and all the words seemed to get stuck in my throat. I was dying for a drink of water but that was not on offer so I had to wait. I survived (I am glad it wasn't the Spanish inquisition otherwise I may not have been so lucky). Anyway I leave and it is pouring rain and I had to walk back to the train station. I found a quicker way to go but was still drenched by the time I got on a train (which was nicely just pulling into the station as I arrived, thank the Lord ). So I sit in the train and I got to see coat hanger (Sydney Harbour Bridge) at night which was awesome. So I finally got back to the airport and had dinner, went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror and realised I looked like a giant panada . It was actually quite amusing! So I fixed my self up, got a coffee and sat and though. I thought about the good things in the interview, the bad things, and the things I needed to work on/pray about. Of course if I had had more time before the interview I would have been more prepared (I would have had my lawyer present) but the truth is I just felt weird about the whole thing.

So I caught my flight and headed home. It was very dark and foggy so not the best driving alone type of weather (it is about 95 km or just under 60 miles). So I am driving home in a bad mood as I was tired, cranky and confused. I am caught in a dilemma. I just had an interview in one of the best Sydney colleges for girls and I am not happy. My dad thinks I am nuts and my mum concurs. I just would prefer to use my skills to help people who need a better education not for those who are already getting a good education. I feel that there are students that are more in need of a proper education than the girls at a Sydney private school. I wanted to teach in a Christian setting but I am not sure how Christian they are and ...

So my life is turning around again and I am not sure where to go from here. I know that the Lord will bless me in all that I do. I know that He will enable me to overcome every hurdle that I could possibly face but what if my own worst enemy is me? How do I overcome myself? All I remember is sitting there, waiting for the interview and realising the walls were painted very nicely and everything was just right. Looking at the other applicants who were equally as nice and exeptionally well dressed, I realised I was out of place. I don't work neatly. I am chaos (though I am well organised in it!) I want to make the impossible possible in children's lives not the possible possible (does that make sense?) I am also scared that I would get called up to the Principal's office frequently. There is a choice I will have to make soon - whether I try to be normal or be crazy (on a side note one of the teachers that I worked with in London would constantly ask me that! Maybe she was trying to tell me something...)

Anyway we will see. They said they will can about it at the end of next week which means I may have a totally different plan by the time that I find out! All in all it was a good trip. As my mum said it was a learning experience if nothing else and she is right. I have learnt a lot through this experience and I also have some things that I want to focus on. Tomorrow I will get back to writing my story and we will go from there. Thank you for all your prayers and God bless, Evie

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Evie,

I swear that sometimes I think we must be soul sisters. I understand exactly those feelings you are talking about and I've been going through the same thing with feeling like I want to be with kids who actually need me, not ones who already have what they need. Thanks for posting. Still pryaing that God will just get you in the right place. Oh yeah, everyone thinks I'm crazy, too.

Evie,

This is one of the reasons I admire you so much, I love seeing how you follow God's will in your life, and how your are willing to go without question wherever you feel led. I'm certain that through this life you are going to experience so many adventures and do some really amazing things! God's blessed you with such a kind and loving spirit. You're so insightful. I know that wherever he brings you next, you will be a blessing to the people around you and that you will touch their hearts and changes their lives. I pray that God continues to bless you and work through you.

RosaVernal said:

As usual for a weekend, I couldn't remember my dreams. And, as usual for my weekend, it started on a Friday. Within a few minutes of waking up, I'd already decided that it was going to be an entirely useless waste of time. Or, in better words, it was time to study. Curling up with my textbooks and with Pandora Radio playing remixes of metal done by symphonic orchestras, I sunk into work for four hours. Tedious, boring, and completely needed for my academic success.


The remnant of the study session was spent staring blankly at my writer's notebook, which was high irony. We were writing creative non-fiction in class, and aside from this very story, I had no material. Why? Because it wasn't just any creative nonfiction, no. We had to base it off of an exercise in our book, or one we'd done in class. How splendid, because god forbid we do our own work.


A few hours of solid gaming later, my father's dwarven fighter and my human arcane archer stood at level eight, and I went off for a ten-hour stint in bed before waking up nice and late the next day a smile on my face-


“We're going to Home Depot.”


- a look of apathy on my face, ready to go right back to bed. It wasn't that I didn't want to go out, it was that I didn't want to go to Home Depot.



True, the wall needed to be fixed, but... ye gods. Home Depot was a place of dread, full of heavyset construction workers, various people in their forties, and horrendous customer service.


A shave and a shower later, I stood ready to go. Half an hour after this, I sat in my car with the engine running, still waiting. After another five minutes, the family was off to a nice, happy outing at Home Depot, complete with my godawfully loud music – level seven out of thirty. I could barely hear it and my parents were complaining about the noise. It was off to a great start.


The thing about Home Depot I hated the most?


The smell. It reeked, awfully. There was stale sweat, fertilizer, paint, concrete, oil, rotting lumber, and the slightly lingering scent of some industrial cleaner that served only to keep grime off of everything. The three of us stood by redwood boards, studying the plans my mother drew for the new backyard structure. Personally, I'd thought the last binge of outdoor work where my mother literally poured a ton of concrete would do the trick. Some people drank, others shot heroin. My mother did exterior home design.


My mother was a blur of contained energy, an executive-type with a master's degree in project management, a contagious laugh, and a dance to her steps. At any given time, one could find her catching a three-footer on her longboard, lugging around sixty-pound bags of concrete to build a walkway, or half a dozen other things, almost always with a simple and profound joy to every action. It was hardly a surprise that she looked half her age, and with a slight accent to her English that most mistook for Irish, all of my friends had reached the unanimous conclusion that "your mom is pretty cool."


As I watched the cheerful debate continue, I could slowly feel my good mood that I'd lost this morning get picked up by a stranger with free candy and molested. I lost track of just how long it took to decide, but sooner or later, we found ourselves in the Garden section. It was one of the few tolerable spaces of the store – sure, it still exhibited the pungent odor of fish, chemical, smog, and failure, but at least it had plants – and I felt some leftover creativity from last night. It was flower time, and I indulged myself in some whorton caladium, american astilbe, black walnut gladiolus, and bicolor acidanthera to plant.


The trip back was splendid, consisting of yet another argument and my aged '86 Chevy Celebrity dying twice in the parking lot. The engine had cut out on me at least seven times in two months, but for such a small gas bill, I could deal with a broken fuel gage, a bumpy ride, and the occasional engine stall. Besides, it was a surfmobile, plastered with bumper stickers, window décor, and an overhead rack perfect for hauling longboards. And with the backseat being able to go down, it contributed highly to my odds of re-christening the station wagon.


Eventually, in the spirit of "[forget] this, I need a break” I meandered off to my room at four twenty exactly, packed it in, and lit up. Getting baked is always an interesting experience – or at least, it should be. There's the initial period of fire and air, filling your lungs to the brim with smoke and holding it until your body is pounding for air, followed by a gradual exhalation of white clouds around you, the familiar plant scent lingering in the air around you. Rinse, repeat, and wait. I'd been trying out some salvia recently, and my body had gotten used to the sage – given that it took about two minutes to kick in before you were laying on your back, staring off into the sky with disembodied voices swirling around your head, I was almost surprised at how long it took for Mary to get busy.


Instead of a sudden sledgehammer to the frontal lobes, it was a gradual relaxation of the body's tense muscles, a steady blurring between rational thought and emotive-guided mental processes, and then before you know it - you're stoned. About sixty percent of all stoners go through the stage of muttering “dude I'm so baked” for the first few minutes until your attention span drifts off towards the nearest cool thing. In my case, it was a book. When your brain is soaked in THC, read a book you know and love – everything will seem new, vivid, and at at least one point you will need to put the book down to simply marvel at just how well-written the book is.

With no dinner in sight, I decided to go outside to see just what was going on. As usual, my parents were enjoying the backyard, sitting on the far swing with cups of Diet Dr. Pepper.


“Do you want to cook dinner?”

“[Heck] no!”


“Not really, but I will. When do you want it?”


“Whenever you're ready.”


“It'll be about eight thirty. I'll just start cooking now.”


After some consultation with my parents as to the entree of choice, I'd decided to make good ol' stove-cooked BBQ chicken with mashed potatoes. A simple enough meal, but I felt creative and I had the munchies. In other words, it was time to cook.


Three chicken breasts boiled with a squirt of barbecue sauce and some red wine vinaigrette dressing later, I had already decided to make some caramelized pineapple garnish. Tossing a handful of slices into a microwave-safe dish, I cut some butter into chunks, tossed it in, and added brown sugar, giving it a minute in the microwave at the time. A dash of virgin olive oil and barbecue sauce to the drained chicken to brown it on simmer, and I started mixing up the mashed potatoes, complete with a liberal shaking of Parmesan cheese, a bit of chicken bullion, and a few tablespoons of ranch dressing for flavor. Before I knew it, I'd served dinner to everyone, tossing a small handful of cheddar and mozzarella on the heaps of potatoes. I'd made another great meal out of an experiment and I'd need to cook it again, especially given the praise I received for it.


I spent the rest of the evening simply talking with friends about a variety of subjects – school shootings, the stark ignorance of the Democrats, female idiosyncrasies, and the ever-popular subject of everybody's favorite, passion online. Why I – and my friends – continued to fall in love with people online was a total mystery to me. It never worked and for the most part was devoid of physical affection, but we did it anyway. I hadn't dated someone I hadn't met first online since high school.


Between MidwestNinja (who actually wasn't from the Midwest and entirely hated the area) and I, we'd come up with a great plan to get [female attention]: sympathy sex from school shootings. Get shot, play up the emotion, and boom, instant morphine-aided bow-chika-wow-wow. Our alternate plan involved being the friend of someone who died, but that was a bit macabre. Bros before [loose-moraled females], after all, and if you'd meet a chick who'd [have sex with] you for getting shot or losing a friend you'd need to [wear a lot of protection]. DarkFay and I spoke of her emotions, of the person online who'd dropped the L-bomb and given her butterflies over the phone before we turned on the subject of love itself.


“Yeah, don't do what I did.”


“Oh, agreed. DarkFay doesn't do that.”


“...is it sad that I still want to fall madly in love and want to elope with someone?”


“No. You're in love with the idea of being in love.”


There's a few people who you can trust with your emotions and actually appreciate their blunt honesty. It's the kind of thing that could ruin friendships, but DarkFay and I had drank together, crushed on each other, shared cigarettes, shared a kitten, and cooked for each other back in Spokane when it was just two poverty-struck couples chilling together to save money. A little honesty wouldn't kill it and hell, we both valued the opinions of the other. It was like a breath of fresh air.


“I can live with being single. Hell, I'm writing again now. I just... want to be in love.”


“Yeah, I get that myself too.”


As I signed off and went to bed, it occurred to me that strictly speaking, it wasn't really an urge to get married. I just wanted to fall asleep with a warm body nestled against mine, the familiar scent of hair and well-worn sheets lulling me to dreams. I wanted to wake up next to someone beautiful, to be able to reverently and passionately run the tips of my fingers over her skin.


I wanted to cuddle, dangit.

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You're a very talented writer.

Evie1980 said:

Sweet - I not the only one

Yeah, I know that the Lord is calling me for different things but it is trying to get rid of what everyone else thinks I should be doing. But there are some jobs in the Territory (NT) in outback, remote communities working with Indigenous people which I am going to apply for. They have one term trial periods so if I don't like I have lost nothing and if I do then I can stay... My father is not that keen on it but that is cause he is my father and he is meant to worry about the things that I don't care for

Hoping the Lord gives us both the oportunity to fulfill the amazing things He has called us to!

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Go to the outback, Evie! Can I come, too?

Evie1980 said:

So my day has been as complicated as ever. I have applied for some more jobs and at the moment my life is in limbo. I have applied for a job in China and the Northern Territory. I will have to call about the Northern Territory tomorrow as they emailed me asking me to. I was going to but my brother need to buy some lottery tickets (it is $50 million) and I went for the drive (no I didn't buy any tickets - it was way too expensive!) Anyway after talking to my brother he told me to forget about NT and move O/S again! I love my older brother dearly so I am thinking that I may follow his advice. I don't know yet. I guess I need to pray about it more.

However, today my niece Risheena was sick and wanted a lot of attention! She is 2 and decided the safest place to be was in my arms and hence the morning was spent holding her and trying to do many other things. I loved it! She was so cute but at times it was hard especially when I was trying to make coffee for everyone and hold her as she didn't want to stay on the ground.

Anyway it got me thinking 2 things -

Firstly when we are sick we always want to be in the arms of others. It was so nice to hold on to her and I enjoyed every minute of it just as she did. I imagine the same is with God. I think He enjoys us being in His arms as much as we enjoy being there. It is always nice to know He is happy just holding us.

Secondly that sometimes we can stay a little too long in His arms. At the moment I am battling against my own thoughts and doubts. I am so uncertain and all I want to do is held all the time. Just like Risheena I don't want to be put down until I am ready. Though it would been in her best interest to be standing on her own at some times (especially when I was making coffee - espresso machines are not easy to use one handed!) she didn't want to let go. True, she is a 2 yo but I am 28 now and there are times when God is tellling me that for my own good it is better to stand on my own for a minute. And then He will pick me back up, just as I would have picked up my niece once I had made the coffee. But she didn't trust me to pick her back up or that she could be happy on her own - just like me!

God bless, Evie

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I think this goes along with yours.

So, I had my job interview today with Kendrick High School. They will have a new priciple for this next year and I interviewed with her. During my hour commute, I just focused on God and prayed that He would use me to be His light wherever I went and that included this job interview. As usual, I was 45 minutes early, so I sat in the car for about 15 mintes until I get antsy and I headed inside to the school.

I rang the bell, but no one buzzed me in, so I walked the perimeter seeing if I could find a door open or anyone to open one for me. I thought well, this must have been why I was so early and cheerfully enjoyed the mild morning weather. I got slightly anxious before I made it back to the door to try the buzzer again. This time the door popped open with a few seconds, so I entered and looked to my left where I was surprised to see that there was no main office there. I made my way down the hall feeling kind of creeped out at the empty hallway and lack of office. About halfway down the hallway, I saw the sign on the door stating that this was th entry to the main office and everything rushed upon me as I saw the words.

I wondered if I would be good enough. What kind of person this woman was, and should I have prepared something besides what I had. I really wanted to get a job soon, so I could settle in for the summer and start preparing lessons for the year while I helped my mom with her recovery from a hysterectomy she will have in a few weeks, and what if I blew this interview and didn’t even know how I managed to do it. As I entered the office, I felt God strengthen me and I just said to myself, “Whatever happens? I know that God will take care of me.” So I relaxed as I greeted the secretary, but still felt slightly uncomfortable. I contemplated my red shoes as I waited and thought I looked pretty powerful in them, then I laughed at myself for thinking that.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in Dr. Cleo Griswould’s office. She asked if I had a resume or anything, so I handed over a packet I had put together for her and my portfolio. I was impressed that she took time to look over every single thing, making comments about what she thought was exceptional and how I really put a lot of work and effort into it. That made me feel good, but I was still uncertain about how things would go. Then, she said that she usually starts with having someone tell about themselves and then asks some general questions and then would allow me to ask anything. She said she felt like she already knew me from my resume and materials, so that upped my confidence. I proceeded with a short monologue about professional writing and how it had stoked my passion for English. As we got into more of a discussion, she suddenly said something that stuck with me.

We were discussing her new position at Kendrick, she said, “It is someplace that I know I belong. I know that I can make a difference there and change things. I don’t want people to work for, but with me.”

I was stunned and overjoyed, because it all of a sudden occurred to me that it really isn’t important where I get a job or what I do. It is not a matter of having a great job, but a matter of where I belong. Because God has a position picked out for me and it has nothing to do with my credentials or my education, but everything to do with my willingness to serve Him wholeheartedly. He may use my credentials and education for my benefit and that of others, but ultimately it is His will that guides all things.

And how can I doubt that He will get me to the place that I belong, even if I don’t know where it is, yet.

Evie1980 said:

That is awesome. I do hope that you find where you belong.

As for me I am stuck between a rock and a hard place - there is the job that I really wanted in Canberra and a job in the NT.

I applied for a Christian school down in Canberra but hadn't heard anything so today I called back about the NT. Anyway I got offered a job pretty much straight away as an ESL consultant for many schools. I will be based in Alice Springs and then head out to individual schools on a weekly basis to help them teach and plan. So I will be camping a lot (I even get my own kit coutesy of the Australian Federal Government. Yay!) but then I got a call about the job I wanted down in Canberra. I have a job interview next week on Thurs! They are both terrific opportunities but totally different (and neither where I planned to go lol).

So umm.... praying that I have the ability to know where God wants me to be!

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You will make the right decision and everything will be fine. I'm going to pray that GOD will close any doors that He doesn't want you to walk through. You have a place where you belong, too and God knows how to get you there. I'm excited for you.

Evie1980 said:

PS I loved the bit about the red shoes. I remember sitting in my job interview wet and tired thinking there is no way that this could possibly work as I don't look like I belong here and then I had to laugh for I knew that my God is bigger than all that. If He wanted me to have this job then He would make it for me. All I had to do was try my hardest and He would fill in the missing bits. My God makes the impossible possible so yeah... red shoes! lol

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I never had a pair of red shoes until this year, and now I am in love with them

Evie it sounds like you are really being blessed by God right now with a lot of opportunities. I hope that he will continue to bless you and that he will guide you as you make your choice about where you will go next. Enjoy your time with your family this weekend! I hope it'll be a great weekend.