I've moved!

After three years and 195 posts here in this little bloggy space, I have packed up my pile of rocks and moved to a brand-spanking new website!

Visit Cherise's new website HERE.

You guys, I can't even begin to tell you how fun it is to have my own space that is clean and fresh and new. I feel like a college girl who just got her first apartment, giddy over her first dishes.

The whole thing was a birthday gift from three of my favorite people in the world.

My husband bought the domain name and template, and our dear friends Kelsey and Avery camped out for hours on our living room floor, showing me the intricacies of widgets, email forwarding, backups, and installation.

To all three of you from the core of me--thank you for showing me love.

The new website has a sweet little email subscribe form so you can get my posts in your inbox--easy peasy.

Goodbye, Blogger! It's been fun.

Photo credit: http://www.prossersmoving.com/ 

The scary-ness of calling yourself a writer

Unless you’re Mariah Carey, it’s a intimidating to say “I’m a singer”. I mean, someone might ask you whether you’ve got an album. Or [horrors!] ask you to sing on the spot. Like, right now.

It can feel just as scary to say, “I’m a writer”.

We squirm, wondering what qualifies us to have the audacity to consider ourselves real writers.

Is it when we publish that first book? Is it when our blogs reach some magical number of followers or has a post that goes viral on Facebook?

In our capitalist society, the mark of legitimacy is often a paycheck. I mean, I may love to dabble in watercolor, but it’s hard to say “I’m a painter” unless someone is willing to plunk down cash for one of my pieces.

But technically, this describes an author.
A writer, when you distill the definition to its core, is simply one who writes.

I must diligently hack off the extra words that try to attach themselves like barnacles to this pure definition. Those extras turn “writer” into Professional Writer, Technical Writer, Popular Writer, Freelance Writer, or even Successful Writer. Descriptive? Maybe. But they can also set an impossible standard of success that can make me say, “oh no, not me. I’m not that.”

I must remind myself that no athlete began with a gold medal, and most never win one.

I remember that applause is often a fickle measure of worth.

I have to zero in on the fact that I like writing, and that the joy of doing something should be enough to keep doing it.

I am a writer, not because I am the best writer the world has seen (ha!), or the most profound, or the most well-known or prolific, but because I choose return and turn my insides out again on a page.

I am a writer, not because I do it perfectly, but because I do it.

And as I operate in the truth of who I am, I will become.

Original photography by Quinn Dombrowski

Today I'm actually joining a larger discussion over at Kate Motaung's blog about the book On Being a Writer by Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig. I stumbled on the conversation last week as I browsed through my feed on Bloglovin', and it scratched an itch I didn't realize I had. 

Lately, I've been doing some hard thinking about this writing thing. I've been asking myself some hard questions, like "why do I write anyway?", "what are my motivations?", and "what should my writing give you, the readers?"

More on that later. Thanks for coming along as I process. :)

Clubbin'. English Clubs, that is.

So I just realized that there is a gaping hole in the Italy trip posts.

In the past three years, I've written plenty about scavenger hunts, awesome conversations, coffee, gelato and the amazing things God taught me. However, I've never really explained the activity that attracts the students in the first place: English Clubs!

So here ya go--everything you ever wanted to know about the most happenin' club in Milan.

First of all, it's a club, not classroom instruction. We aren't licensed teachers, we're college students from another campus who are excited to help our friends practice English in a fun, relational setting.

Every day has a theme. We use idea books that are divided into themes like "family", "the outdoors", and "culture". Once we've picked a theme, we choose activities and games for that day that relate to the chosen topic. The American slang associated with each theme is especially fun. For example, when we talked about family, we taught them the meanings and uses of...

"mama's boy"

"brotha' from anotha' motha'"

"chip off the old block"

"spitting image"

"daddy's girl"

"rugrat"

"family feud"

Food day is a favorite! Each year we fill up one entire suitcase with American snack food for our new friends to try. Can you imagine living your whole life without beef jerky? They also don't have Sour Patch candy, Cheese-Whiz, or--brace yourselves--

PEANUT BUTTER.

 I KNOW.

We REALLY like Mafia. The card game, not the organized crime ring. It's a bit ironic, sitting in Italy, playing a game called "Mafia", but it's perfect for helping the whole group use their English to accuse their neighbors and defend their own alibi. :)

It's a cultural exchange. The culture of Italy and the culture of Aggieland may be very different, but both are beautiful, deeply traditional, and really fun to share and explain! This year, for example, we decided to teach our Italian friends how to line dance to "Copperhead Road", and they in turn taught us a line dance in Italian. (I really wish I could post the video clip! But I can't get it to work... :(  )

Movies help the discussions go deep. Although we reserve spiritual conversations for the times when we are off campus, meaningful discussions often begin in the classroom after watching a movie clip. All levels will gather in one room to watch part of a movie in English (with English subtitles). Afterward, in smaller groups, we work through prepared questions meant to stimulate thought and conversation.
Often, the answers that students give to these discussion questions reveal their attitudes toward their family, their dreams, and may even give clues about their current relationship with God.

Even though we're back in TX, these English Clubs are still going on! One of the girls on our team remained behind in Milan to continue ministry with the students and do a bi-weekly English Club at a local café. Please keep her in your prayers!

Getting Crafty: Wreath Edition

I got crafty last weekend! Having my mom and sister here always wakes the sleeping artist in me.

I used this tutorial as my inspiration.

After thanksgiving, I may add some red berries or simply remove the camel-colored rosettes to help it transition to the Christmas season.

Ok, more realistically, I'll probably just leave it until July next year. (Those are flowers, right? They could pass for spring...right?)

Our final wedding photo shoot! (no, I'm serious)

Guess what we did this summer? We took our final wedding photo shoot! Ta da!

Umm...yeah. Our wedding happened two years ago. We know. A little ridiculous.

We were touched that our photographer was willing to honor our package deal after such a wide time lapse. Yes, we have been finishing degrees, traipsing to Colorado for a summer, flying to Italy for mission trips, and other random things that make life busy, but two years? After this experience, I wouldn't be surprised if she put a new clause in her photography contracts. If you lovebirds are too busy (lazy) to schedule all included photo-ops within a reasonable six-month span of time, you will forfeit the unscheduled services.
I wouldn't blame her one iota.

I believe the "day after" photo shoot idea originated from the desire to have a good collection of romantic photos without making guests wait at the reception for hours. Couples usually don the wedding clothes again for a complete wedding day simulation.

As you'll see, we opted for comfortable jeans and t-shirts. This was due to the unbearable, sickly stickiness of Texas July heat...and the fact that all essential undergarments for my wedding dress were borrowed. But it gave me a chance to sport this fun t-shirt given to me by my sis at a bridal shower way back before the wedding! It says "I *heart* my hubby".

I was surprised by how little she had to coach us on natural-looking cuddliness! I guess we've learned a few things in the past two years. :)

If you want to see more, head on over to this album on my facebook page. And if you like her style, check out her other photos on Southern Charm Photography.

Sodom's Crime

Death is a taker, not a giver. The taking it has done this week in Boston, and last night in West, TX, have made me sit weeping in my car for the moms, the spouses, the kids who are reeling in the aftermath.

Always receiving, but never giving, salt seas are dead too.

Dead and briny, like the tears in Boston and West after the taking.

Salty and barren like a little ghost town once called Sodom.

Sodom. We always peg it for its sodomy. (Ever wonder where the name came from?) Yes, Sodom had sexual sin, but that was not the crime that fit them for destruction.

The crime was taking-without-giving.

They hoarded wealth like a salt sea hoards water.

Small-town Sodom was full of gluttons. It was full of excess, of waste, of shutting eyes to the poor and plugging ears against compassion that would cost them comfort.

I had never known this, never realized that this was why God destroyed it, but there it was, in the middle of a rant against Israel, (who apparently was worse than Sodom!):

"...this was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. ...So I removed them." (Ezekiel 16:48-50 ESV)

Sound like any place you know?

I'm not bringing this up so I can stand on my soapbox against America's wealth, her ease and prosperity, or her greed.  No, I'm bringing this up because I'm guilty.

I have shut my eyes. I have closed my ears. I have snapped my checkbook closed too many times when I knew He would have counted it as a personal gift to Him.

When I receive without giving, I am like like a salt sea: deader with every drop.

"Truly I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." (Matt 25:45) - Jesus

He, the Ultimate Giver, is supremely alive.

I received and began to live. Now when I give, His life is expressed sweet, full. I have life to the full.




As I was chewing on the passage in Ezekiel, I started journaling a prayer out of desperation and frustration with how similar I was to Sodom. This poem was the result.



Rescue me from wealth
the consuming
and grasping 
and wasting
of things
unnecessarily bought
and garaged
and shelved
while their bellies bloat.

Save me from success
the endless striving
comparing 
and lifting
of self
unconscionably proud 
discontent
and anxious
lest the accolades stop.

Ransom me from passion
for those worthless
and emptying
pursuits
unbearably hollow
preoccupying
distracting
from the Life that truly lives.

I like gardening on canvas too

It must have been Jesus' idea, because it hasn't crossed either of our minds until the moment before she said it:

"Would you wanna get together next weekend and paint?"

Ohhhhh girl, would I.

Painting is one of those elusive hobbies that never seems to materialize because I rely on the off-chance that I'll I have nothing more pressing to do. Annnnnnnd we all know that in this life, there is ALWAYS something that feels more urgent than dabbling in paint, be it cooking, shopping, laundry, work, returning a phone call, a meeting...you get the idea...and I don't even have kids yet!

But as a wise friend of mine recently blogged, "I'm too busy" is actually code for "Other things are higher on my priority list." In other words, we make time for whatever we value more. Tough but true. (Go read her blog here!)

Painting simply doesn't stack high on my priority list, which is why it had to piggyback on something that I DO fight to make priority: girl time with friends.

So we sat last Saturday night, yellow table and tea and tubes of paint between, and soaked in the sweetness of understanding that you find with a good friend. We worshiped to the sound of Meredith Andrews on Pandora, and Jesus was there, and the paint flowed.

I'm learning--slowly--to not drag a little bag of guilt into sweet times of rest like these. I'm sure some of you remember the book I mentioned last month?  I continue to chew on it, and it continues to challenge my ideas of simplicity, my motivations for busy-ness, and how I understand God's attitude toward rest and stillness. I'll have more about the book in another post, but the fact that I painted and enjoyed fully (sans guilt) is evidence to me that I'm learning how to rest!

Tomorrow night is the start of our women's retreat that Fellowship Church, and I'm praying that it will truly be a time of deep surrender-rest for my heart and the hearts of all the other ladies there. If you would take 30 seconds and pray with me, that would be awesome!

(My painting is a copy of a painting I pinned on Pinterest, by Ginnette Callaway.)

Post-makeover Pumpkins

Remember a few weeks ago before all the wedding craziness when I told you about my new orange canvas?
Well, here are some belated pictures of the finished product!

A pumpkin patch on a pumpkin. :)

 I even took some pictures of my co-workers pumpkins, just so you could see the incredible variety that half a dozen bank tellers could produce. 

An ombre creation, complete with colored glitter and spiders. 

I thought the dots looked like jelly beans. 

Definitely the scariest!

With sharpie-drawn face, this was the pumpkin version of Annie Oakley. 

The blind, purple LSU pumpkin. 

Minnie!

Currently, the cowgirl pumpkin (without her hat and gun) and the glittery pumpkin (sans spiders) are chillin on my front porch as interesting fall decor. I would have kept mine, but it got moldy. I guess that's what happens when you cover a pumpkin completely in paint?

Pumpkin Project Ahead

In the spirit of cooler weather and healthy competition, my boss handed each of us a pumpkin at yesterday's meeting.

"Get these decorated by next Monday--any way you like."

Ooooooooo. :)

As much as I've bucked all my life against forced creativity required for school projects, this is one time when I feel liberated by the mandate to make something pretty. No, I can't do laundry or cook right now. My boss told me to decorate this. 

Here are the links to my current sources of inspiration:

• A black and white design
• Finger-painted flowers
• Following the geometric trend
• A slew of cute ideas from Better Homes and Gardens

We will display them in the lobby until Christmas is more in style...and then I have a feeling hubby and I will be eating pumpkin pie. :) 

Pinteresting::Jewelry Board

Remember this project that I considered doing back in January?

This weekend, I made a simpler, more functional version that didn't involve lace or an expensive frame.

I began with JC's old corkboard. After I freed it from a 10-year layer of photos and push pins, I gathered these supplies:

• Leftover wall paint from the hallway
• paintbrush
• 1/2 yard of pretty fabric
• Wood or Elmer's glue
• One 1/4-inch wooden rod
• small package of hook screws
• hammer
• small nails

First I applied the paint, lavishly, since I knew the fabric would cover any mistakes. After measuring the face of the board within the frame, I cut the fabric to size and glued it down inside the edges of the frame.

The next phase was the fun part! I created racks for my hook earrings by inserting the hook screws as supports. Once the rods were threaded through the hooks, it looked like this:

I then hammered nails into the board for each necklace and bracelet, being careful that they didn't poke through the back. Voila!

Word Fun:: Kerfuffle!

Ever been in a kerfuffle?  

Say it: "ker-FUFF-ul". 

Say it again, faster. You're smiling, aren't you? I can't help but grin absurdly when I say kerfuffle. There are certain words in the English language that tickle the tongue, that come out Dr. Seuss-esque and make me feel like I'm five. 

The online Merriam-Webster dictionary defines kerfuffle as "a disturbance, a fuss." Something like an ado, a bother, a bluster, a ballyhoo, a furor, or hoopla. 

For example, "When my co-worker found out that they were out of Pumpkin Spice lattes, she raised quite a kerfuffle." (FYI, this is a true story from Wednesday.)

It's a chiefly British word, but the origin is probably Scottish Gaelic, a combination of cearr (wrong or awkward) and fuffle (to become disheveled). I am becoming increasingly convinced that the ancient Gaelic and Celtic languages might be the coolest on the planet. 

Apparently, I'm not the only person who thinks kerfuffle is a fun word. Google revealed that there is a website devoted to kerfuffles, a slew of rather cheesy memes, a musical band, and even a board game by that name!  Family game night, anyone?

But my favorite definition of kerfuffle comes from urbandictionary.com:

Kerfuffle: a cough that makes you fart. 

Long overdue post: Craft Shop Visit

Newsflash: Cherise is alive!  

I took a hiatus from the blog world for the past two weeks or so. It wasn't intentional; it simply got pushed into the back corners of life by...well, life. 

I flew back to Texas

I spent a weekend with my wonderful family

I applied to a slew of new jobs

I painted a picture

I spent some time to soul-search

And my part-time job has entered the yearly 50-hour per week phase of planning known as "Staff Retreat Season"

Whew! 

If life slows down, I might possibly be able to blog about these happenings sometime. But, now that she has received her present, here is a long-overdue post about the day I visited the YMCA craft shop in Colorado to make something special for my sister: 

_____________________________________________________________________________

The pathway to the door is a work of art! Green...

Blue...

Purple...

Pink...

It's something I'd love to do with my non-existent kids someday in our yard! 

Once inside, I faced a dazzling array of beads: two ten-foot tables simply LOADED with them. I chose my favorites, and this was the finished product:

I wish I had gone back at least once before I left. Oh well...maybe I'll have the chance someday. :)

Instagram-y fun

Ever since I first discovered the Instagram app on my smart phone, my photos have reached a new eschelon of coolness!  (Ok, well at least I think so.)  I love the daily deliberation between the Sutro, Lo-fi and Valencia filters, and the finished product seems to elevate everyday scenes to something I might see in a magazine. 

At the very least, I'm taking more pictures, which is always a good thing. 

Last Wednesday, I walked with a small group of thirty others into Chicago's, a cheerful hole in the wall that serves burgers, gyros, and pizza. The murals on the wall portrayed the Rocky Mountains in the best colors of every season, and the kitchen was only an arm's length away from where we stood. This man was fully absorbed in his work, brow furrowed with intensity as he mixed and poured and clanged dishes. I wondered how his day was going. 

A few days ago, hubby and I stole away from the YMCA for an afternoon date at a coffee shop. Like kids hiding away in a tree house, we took our drinks up the twisty stairs to a cluttered and cozy upper nook above the shop. They had checkers. We played four games, sipped our mochas, and let the world turn without us. I love that man so much. 

You know what else I love?  Skype!  Blessings on the inventor, whoever he or she was. I have missed my friends so much this summer, and last week I had a fabulous two hours chatting with this wonderful girl. Love you, Lissy!

Most cities have traffic jams, but I bet an ELK JAM is unique to this part of the country. This herd of thirty elk was leisurely crossing the road to Estes Park last Wednesday. 

Every once in a while, God gives me "valentines" through nature. Check out this fluorescent green lichen heart that I spotted on a rock the day we flew balloons. 

Tiny bits of colored glass and rock are sometimes as good as a canvas when I get the urge for self expression. (I can't show the finished product here because it's a birthday present for my sweet 22-year-old sister, but I promise--I will once she gets her package!)

And...I saved the best for last: the Trash & Tray Creature! The staff that work in the dining room will sometimes create odd structures out of fruit and send them through the tray conveyor to us. This one had quite the personality.

That's all for now! :)

Balloons over the Rockies

What weighs you down? 

So many things settle with undue weight into the corners of our hearts, puncturing our tank of joy and contentment with devastating precision: 

Worries about our families

Fears of an unknown, uncontrollable future

Hurts from words spoken years ago

Hurts from words that might have healed, but went unspoken

Secret shame

Insecurities that taunt us from the mirror or our GPA

Tight finances

In the desert with a complaining group of nomads, God used symbolism to seal the significance of deep truth in their hearts. Physical rituals like washing, celebrating, and sacrificing made unseen promises tangible, concrete, and less easily forgotten. 

So my life group leader got a great idea. 

We would write out the worries, fears, hurts, shames and insecurities in a letter to Jesus. Then, we would attach them to helium globes and literally release them to Him from a mountain top. 

When we found that our letters were too heavy for our little balloons, we took a marker and improvised. :)

We shared our burdens, gave them to Him as a group. As we let the plastic ribbons slip from our hands, we felt weightless in the freedom of surrender. 

We are spiritual beings, but we are also physical. These two aspects of our nature are so enmeshed that we cannot be wholly well if one is broken. Doctors and psychologists and ministers have long known that cheerful patients heal faster and that depression increases the risk of all kinds of life-threatening diseases. When we physically lift the edges of our mouths there is a corresponding glimmer of joy in our hearts. When we physically place our hands over our breast pockets and sing, we feel a soulful camaraderie with a nation of others doing the same. 

All that to say, I personally need physical reminders of spiritual truths. I need to kneel--it humbles me. I need to sing out--it reminds my heart of the reasons for singing. 

And sometimes I need to literally release my burdens to the Lord in a balloon.