Ok, this isn't fun anymore.

This "being an adult" thing.

I'm tired of getting up early after not enough sleep
going to work
going to another work
getting home at 11 at night
going to sleep later than I should
and doing it again
day
after day
after day.

I'm tired of bills
and money
and bills
and groceries
and money
and bills.

I'm tired of having coworkers
instead of friends.
I'm tired of working and sleeping
instead of having a social life.

I'm tired of being responsible.
I want to be reckless,
do something impulsive
and stupid
and bad for me.

I know that no one said
life is fun all the time,

But life has been pretty un-fun lately.
Stop the ride. I want to get off.

WHY ARE THEY FAMOUS??

That's right, friends. It's the grand return of

"Why Wednesday!"

I finally got my computer repaired last week.
And it's glorious.
A very nice man named Levi fixed it
in practically no time flat.
And I'm extremely grateful.

Back to the point.

The point IS...

WHY WEDNESDAY!

This week's topic:

People who are famous
Who shouldn't really be famous.

People such as:



These people are all famous by some freak accident of fate,
and have no marketable skills.
They have become famous for being famous.
(Which came first, the chicken or the egg?)

This really makes me angry.
People who have no talent at anything make
TONS
and
TONS
of money
for doing nothing,

while plenty of people all around the world
BUST. THEIR. ASSES.
to get even a fraction of what these people make.

So I'll ask the question:

Why?
Why?
WHY?
WHY ARE THEY FAMOUS?

things that make me fall in love with God

spectacular lightning storms
the way the grass looks greener after it rains
best friends
the miracle of new life
stars on a clear night
sunrises & sunsets
flowers
fresh snow

Bittersweet

Sorry for the absence, friends. My computer died a couple weeks ago. Sad, I know. I feel completely cut off from the world. But sometimes, that's not such a bad thing.

But here's what's been weighing on my mind and heart the most lately.

Weekend before last, I was blessed to make a trip to Texas with my dad, to see my Papa for his big 80th Birthday Bash. It was a real blessing.

This past Wednesday, at about 6:30pm, my Papa finished his battle with cancer, and went home to Jesus.

So we all trekked back to Texas for the funeral, which was Saturday. It was nice, a real celebration of his life.

But it's still difficult. I was Papa's girl. I've never had anyone in my life die who I've been this close to.

He was one of those people who seems invincible. A person who, even when you're older and you realize that death in an inevitabiliy, you'd swear they'll live forever. Untouchable.

So it's been really hard to watch his decline the past two years. It was also difficult to pray so hard for God to restore my grandfather (because I knew He could), that tears were streaming down my face, only to see the cancer steal more of him away.

Yesterday was hard. Yesterday me, my Dad, and my Stepmom stopped in Springfield to see my sister, and her new baby girl. My nephew, who's 5, calls my dad "Papa."

And it hit me that now my Dad is now Papa. He is to Matthew and Lily what my Papa was to me. And he's going to be great. He's going to seem larger than life, invincible, untouchable. Just like my Papa was.

I know that I'll always know how this hurt feels. And I know it'll creep up on me at unexpected moments. And I know that eventually, with time the details will fade.

I won't remember which gray skirt and cardigan I was wearing every time I put them on.
I won't remember precisely which pearl earrings and necklace I had on.
I won't remember that the people in the car with me on the way there were my Aunt, Uncle, cousin, and our good friend Ren.
I won't remember what the flower arrangements looked like.

I know I'm suppsed to cry, supposed to feel something, anything. Sadness at his absence. Joy at him going home to heaven. Anything. But just don't want to. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.