Moving The Blog

Hey Readers,

      I have been working ever since I got done with school (with a couple breaks) to move my blog from Blogspot to Wordpress! Wordpress is cleaner, and more efficient, so I thought I'd do that instead. I really like it so far.

      Don't worry, all my old posts have been moved to Wordpress, and you can find me there at: New Home! Hope to see you there.

Thanks!

~Rubix

Why I Want To Hear More "Boring" Testimonies

Hey Readers,

         You've all heard the classic redemption stories, the ones that make your heart burn and your soul go "Thank God for saving them. Thank God." We hear the stories about people who have been saved from drugs, immorality, prison, and all of these awful, awful things. But they've come back, and they're living for our Heavenly Father. And that's amazing. And that is so, so powerful, don't get me wrong. I love those exciting testimonies.

         But when I was younger, I was so scared that was going to become my testimony. I added apologies for "if I do bad things in college" or "please, God, don't let me stray. I don't want to stray. Keep me safe from the world." to my talks with God. I was so scared and insecure of my own strength, because I knew, that if left to my own vices, I'd pick the world over my God. That broke my little ten year old heart into bits.

         I brought up my fears once to my cousin, and she also related to this, and she prayed with me, read me some Bible verses and gave me a hug. Love her to death, she is an amazing person to go to with problems like that. It quieted me for a time, but then I was worried again. So worried about what might happen to my relationship with God. I didn't want to wander. I wanted to stay with him forever, and only begin to stray, but for Him to catch me and bring me back before it got bad.

         My testimony is simple and short. There is no major sin, no major falling and coming out of the dark. I was six, and my parents taught me to love their God, but this was the first time He became my God. I was outside playing and it just... clicked. I knew and loved Him. And I ran inside, grinning and told my parents, "I was a sheep and I was lost. And Jesus came and brought me home." And He's been bringing me back home ever since.

         I've heard the testimonies of the kids who's parents are leaders in the church who never really got it. I've heard the ones about people who grew up in that atmosphere and rebelled, going wild in their college years before coming back. I've heard the stories about the people who have sinned and lied and thieved and gone to jail multiple times before loving and accepting my Jesus as theirs. I've heard the stories of people who have tried every other religion but mine. I've heard so, so many stories of going from the dark to the light.

         But where's the stories of the kids who grew up, loving and respecting their parents, and taking Jesus as their savior and meaning that first sinner's prayer with all of their soul. Where is the stories of the people who listened to the Gospel on their grandparent's knees, and still live by it. Where is the stories of the families who all worked in the church together and loved it, and meant it?

        Because these stories are there. Because that is my story. That is my mom's story. That is my aunt and uncle's story. My grandparent's story. My cousins' story.

          I want to know that there is hope. Hope that we can stay on the straight path. That we can not wander too far. Because all we hear are the broken stories, so we forgot how to be whole.

         We know how to be broken. We know how to fake it. We can be plastic broken people because that is all we know.

          But there are real whole people out there. Those who aren't faking it, that mean every word they pray with their entire being, that have been meaning it since the time they were old enough to understand.

        My dad tells this story of when he went on a trip with a bunch of teenagers as a leader, and they took turns sharing their testimonies, and it's this girl's turn.

        She stands up and says, "I was saved from drugs, from sexual immorality, from going to prison..." and she goes on and lists all these awful things, and she's only thirteen, and my dad is thinking "Oh no, I'm going to have to tell her to stop lying, because how on earth is she saved from all of this? I know her. She's a good kid."

      But then she says, "I was saved from all of these things, because I was blessed by God with parents who have taught me to walk in His ways."

       That makes me want to cry every time he tells this story. Because we can be whole. We don't have to stray, we don't need to wander. We can remain in God's care for all of our lives.

         Isn't that amazing?

         We don't have to fall so far into the darkness to see the light. We can live in the light. We can live in the light. We can live in the light of our God. 

        For all of our lives until he calls us home.

         Sometimes people will say they have been "re-saved", they'll say things such as "I didn't mean it. I was too young to understand."

           It was seven years ago when I was first saved. And I know so much more about God now, yes, but it all goes back to that first statement of faith. Everything, do you understand, everything, goes back to this one statement.

"I was a sheep, and I was lost, and Jesus found me and brought me home."

          I didn't understand everything I know now seven years ago, I don't understand everything now that I will in seven years, and in seven years, I still won't know it all. And that does not matter. At all. Because all I have to know, is that I was lost, and now I'm found, and I am Jesus's now. That is all that matters.

       And I will be his. For the rest of my life. And I will be whole and I will be real and I will tell everyone without shame the day the six year old me realized who God was.

       I am not ashamed of my "boring" testimony. I will never be ashamed of my testimony. I will share it in the same room as the ex-drug addicts and people who have been saved from a life of darkness. My testimony has the same power as theirs.

          Do not be ashamed of your testimony. For it is yours, and it is amazing and special and will change someone's life.

        It doesn't need to be big or impressive, or extremely touching. Because it is the day God changed your life, and it is meaningful. So, so meaningful. Hold your head up high and tell it with joy.

         I was a sheep. 
         I was lost.
         I knew I was a sinful human.
        And then I knew. And now I know.
        The Creator of the Galaxies is holding my hand. 
        And he's brought me home time and time again.
        I'm not leaving his side. 

~Rubix
   

Chronicles of Jetlag and How Much I Slept

Hey there, Readers!

        As most of you know, I was in the States for three months, but now I am back home, which is good but kinda sad at the same time. We'll have a longer blog post about that later.

         The flight was good, everything went smoothly, it was just sooooo lonnnnggggg. Seriously. Like... over 12 hours of traveling with four siblings under 12. It was interesting, to say the least. Also, for some reason, the thought of airplane food makes me nauseous right now.

          But we got home in one piece! Nobody got sick or puked or injured themselves. Luggage went smoothly, security checks went smoothly, honestly, it was the best we've had so far.

          But it took aaaaaaaagggggggggggeeeeeeeesssssssss. I don't think I was ever so happy in my life to see my room. But then we couldn't sleep until at least 6, because we'd get messed up with the time even more. So I fell asleep before the rest of my siblings around 6:40-7 and was like a rock.

          Until 3 in the morning.

          For some reason, my body was like ":D :D Sun's up, morning's here! Up and at 'em! :D :D". And it also thought it was breakfast time for some odd reason. So I'm awake at three, super hungry, and tired but unable to sleep because my body is all messed up. What did I do?

          What any human does, faced with this. I lay in bed for the next three hours. And then I fell asleep again. Until 8. Then I was up for maybe 30 minutes? And then I fell asleep. Until 10. And finally, at 10, I then fell asleep until one.

       Yes. One in the afternoon. Don't judge.

        Next night was better. I caught my dad in the kitchen eating Reese's at four in the morning, but I got one, so it was all good. And then I woke up completely at... 10:30?

      Today I got up at 9:30. I think I have made good progress.

      Hope you all enjoyed that.

      So now I'm back in my house, in Africa, with my family and my dog (super happy to see him!!) and my friends.

        Which is nice. Good to be back.

         I miss my family and friends in the States, obviously. I miss them a lot. But I'm back in my house, with friends I left, and a place I'm used to. Life is full of goodbyes, we can't change that, and if we can't change our circumstances, then we should adapt to them and be joyful, because sitting and being depressed won't change a thing.

         So yes, I will miss them, and yes, I will shed tears and need chocolate and hugs, but I'm not going to let that rule me.

         I'm excited for what this season of my life is going to look like.

          I don't want to act depressed and lonely, because I am not. I'm not immune to feeling sad, either, I just don't want to let it rule my life.

            And now I need to go take a shower, cause it's one in the afternoon and I still haven't brushed my hair and probably look like a hobo.

~Rubix

       

       

A (Very) Short Thought

Hello Readers,

      I love moonlight. So, so much. I love sunlight, but it's hot and leaves so many shadows. There's something almost magical about moonlight and how it reaches into all the cracks and crevices.

        It's a softer, quieter kind of light, smiling down on us. The light for the night travelers, the globe trotters. A quiet guide breaking through the night to illuminate paths for the weary wanderer.

        If moonlight had a sound, I think it would be the sound of a lone wind chime singing out through the wind. Singing a song without words that we all somehow understand.

       If moonlight had a tangible feeling, I think it would be like silk. A wispy soft silk grey shawl. Light and airy.

       If moonlight had a taste, I think it would be like the sea in the air. Barely there, a little salty, and hardly noticeable at all.

       If moonlight had a smell, I think it would be a perfume. A light, rose petal perfume. Not overpowering or filling the room, but there all the same, and just as lovely.

~Rubix

A Conversation With Myself/Christmas Post

Dear Readers,

     Well, I feel like I should write something. I've been lazy, lately. Haven't written a word... No poems, none of my book, not even cruddy fan fictions. I really should be scared. I really should write.

     But...

    I don't waaaaannnnnnnnaaaaaa!

     I can't churn out any awe-inducing poems, write any emotionally charged scenes, can't write a blog post about Christmas, for Durin's sakes. I am a writer who isn't writing. And as one of my favorite quotes says...

"A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity."

  Therefore, I need to write something.

   But what to write?

   I could write a long blog post about the deep meanings in the last season of Doctor Who, I could write about how making a ginger bread house with my family is an old, old tradition and it feels good to have a tradition to hold on to, I could write a poem about Christmas, and it might not even be that corny...

    But there's no magic in my fingers. No spark in my mind. No twinkle in my eye or spring in my step. My feet drag on the floor to my computer and I give it a disinterested look. No, this writer does not want to write. Not at all.

     This writer says "Bah humbug!" and refuses to write a nice inspiring blog post about Christmas that you all could use.

      Honestly, this writer needs to get over herself.

      I need to write.

      Cause that's what I am, isn't it? A writer?

      Ah, but I think another reason why I don't want to write is because I am scared. Scared? Yes, I'm scared.

      I'm scared that whatever I write won't be good enough, because I want to write about Christmas. (Well, we're getting somewhere, at least I want to write now!)

   Christmas? Christmas isn't scary, is it?

    When you want to write about it, it is. Yes, yes it is.

     When you want everyone to know how you feel, how this one day changed your life, not just your life, but everyone ever to live has been changed by this date.

    No pressure, right?

    I'm scared I won't be able to do Christmas justice.

    Actually, I know I won't be able to do it justice.

    Because I can not put into words or thoughts how much Jesus loves me.

     I can't describe this all encompassing feeling of peace and love and joy. And yes, we are celebrating his birth in a little bit, but we also know that this baby who was born on this date died, oh how painfully he died, for a bunch of people who were as disgusting as the filth on the streets he walked upon.

      We celebrate life, joy, and peace. But there is, at least for me, a small foreshadowing feeling. When you realize just how small you are. How unworthy of this little crying baby's life.

      Oh, but you get it anyway. You get to be clean and pure because this little baby, Jesus, Emmanuel, He was born to die.

      For a bunch of low life sinners.

      And no matter what we say or do, we don't deserve that.

      But He doesn't care. He loves us. He loves the filthy humans we are and loves to forgive us.

      It doesn't end. This love, this all encompassing love does not end for us. It is new every day, it does not wane, does not fade, and it loves more than you can believe.

      There is no condemnation in him. While we don't deserve this precious gift, he gives it to us, and he does not want us to blame ourselves, or beat ourselves up. We are human. We make mistakes. We hurt and are hurt.

       And this baby came to love us, and to die for us.

        And that one gift changed my life. Forever.

      And this is why I am not going to write a series of posts about Christmas. I only had one of these in me, only one chance to tell you about this Jesus.

      Because I could write novels and novels and not even scratch the surface of how much he loves me.

      How do you fit that into a blog post? This love and peace and this joy! Oh, this joy. It has made the lame walk, the blind see, the deaf hear, and the stone hearted love. This joy has carried me through this earth, and it will carry me out again.

Glory to God!

~Rubix


 

A Basket of Random Poems

Readers,

    So, first I tried to write a blog post. Then I tried to work on my novel. Then I tried to edit my blog's picture, which just ended up with me wanting to throw my computer out a window. Then back to novel again, then blog post. So I ended up trying to write some poems.

    Which actually went pretty good. So here's some of my efforts, and hopefully you can enjoy them.

A Questionare

They said to describe me in a sentence
I tried to find the right words
They floated out of my brain to pay penitence
To the queens and kings of other worlds.

They told me to describe my feelings
That was easy as telling a blind man about the color blue
Or a deaf man, the sound of words reeling
My emotions run deep and bright, well known to precious few.

They told me to write my heart on a page.
I filled up novels and still wasn’t done with my goal.
So many things I want to say, things of pain and joy and of love and rage.
I wrote until I had no paper, so I wrote on my walls in dark black coal

They told me to sum up my existence
What I did with my time on this earth
I stared at them like they spouted nonsense
I can not tell all the days, all the time, all for what it’s really worth.

They told me to tell what I want in the future
I shook my head dumbly, too frightened to speak
What I want is not material, not a house or computer

What I want is a feeling, to sow good that I will reap.

A Detour In My Mind

They dance along the paper, running through my head

Words read, words heard, the words we leave unsaid

Penned onto my paper, stuck in my brain

Coal black ink runs rampant through the lanes

Of my mind.

Singing through the air, tugging heartstrings to the beat

Grabbing my arm and taking me far away from the reality of neat

Wild colors jumping, and beautiful messes running by the lake

Ink blots stand up and dance with the snowflakes

In my mind.

The song slows, the pages turn with a mighty roar

The world turns to what it was before

I set off on this odd misadventure

To cities and places I’d never have ventured

But this was in my mind.

But then my heart calms, I don’t feel so wild

I look over to see a mother and child

The night wasn’t so silent, but he was staring at me

And I felt all the love that could ever be

In the quiet manger scene in my mind.

Alright. So, I only had two for you instead of a basket... Oops. Pretend it's a small basket, alright? Comment below with your thoughts!

~Rubix

Lovely Lonely People

Hey Readers,

      Now, to ease your worries before we start this blog post, I want to make a couple things clear. No, I am not depressed. No, I am not mentally unstable. I am not desperately lonely with no friends in the world. I am not angry, tired, or upset at my life.

      I love my life, I love my friends, I am more emotionally stable than a lot of the population of the world. I am not depressed or anxious. I am quite happy with my life, and I love the Lord.

    Alright. Now we may begin.

     I've been noticing lately, a pattern to movies, TV shows, and books that I'm attracted to. I love stories about lonely people. Here, I'll give you a brief overview.

The Search for Wondla: A girl tries to find humanity on a planet that turns out to be much different than it seems. She has two friends, an alien and a robot, to aid her. But they aren't like her. So while she is happy and she loves them, she is really alone on that world. The only remaining human.

BBC's Sherlock: A genius who no one understands, a brilliant lonely guy who everyone labels as a 'psychopath' because they don't get it. And then he meets this guy, John Watson. John becomes his friend, and he sticks by him through everything. When everyone has given up on Sherlock, John is there standing by him and shouting back at them that they're wrong, and that his friend is brilliant.

Harry Potter: Harry doesn't fit in in the human world, as he uses magic, but nor does he fit in the wizardry world, as he is also very, very human. He has two friends who also stick by him through thick and thin. But one's nearly all human, and the other is all wizard.

See the pattern?

And now for my favorite:

Doctor Who: The last of his kind, a Time Lord, the Doctor travels through space and time, saving people and preventing what happened to him happening to others. He takes his human (or alien) companions along for the ride, showing them the stars.

Oh, I love this story so much. Because while a lot of people would become bitter, the Doctor just dives in and saves people. He never hesitates to sacrifice himself for anyone. And as he's immortal, as soon as he says hello to someone, he knows, oh how he knows, that he's going to have to say bye to them.

Does he hole himself up? Never invest in people, never let himself love?

Oh no.

He dives in. He loves people, they love him back. He has best friends, and he falls in love, and he says goodbye. And it hurts. But he does it. Cause he knows it was worth it.

And that has really helped me, I know it sounds weird, to be helped by Doctor Who. But that show has spoke to me, because in some ways, in a lot of ways, I can relate to the Doctor.

The life I lead, I'm always saying hellos, and I'm always saying goodbyes. And I love my life. But it hurts sometimes. You miss people. And you know what? I wouldn't trade it for the world. I travel, not in a blue box, but in airplanes and cars and trains. I've never lived somewhere for more than four years.

I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's.

Even though it hurts sometimes. And it can get a little lonely.

Because, like the Doctor, I also have companions. I have friends. And I know them better than they know themselves, sometimes. And I know, deep down, that I'll have to say bye one day. Because I move all over. That's what God has called me to do.

And it's okay. It's honestly okay to hurt and have it not be fixed. I wouldn't trade it. It was worth it. People. The right people, that is. Are always worth it.

If you hurt when you say goodbye, that means it meant something. That means it impacted you and changed you and made you better and more whole.

You move on eventually. You miss them, you text them, you talk over the phone, but it won't be the same. And you know what?

That's okay.

Because you'll get a new companion. You'll get new friends. It is okay to move on. You aren't betraying someone or dishonoring their memory by moving on. By making new friends. By being happy.

I am a happy person.

I am an optimist.

I love people. I love where I live. I love where I have lived. And I love where I will live one day.

And you know what? If I have a little ache for those places, those people, that means I lived a life worth living.

I was impacted. I felt. I felt pain and anger and love. That's what I want to be able to say when I die.

When I die, I want to be able to smile and say that over the course of my life, that I really lived. That I felt. That I made my God proud. That I made my parents proud. That I lifted up my siblings, I taught my children. That I loved my husband and my friends were close. I want to be able to say that.

What's a little hurt compared to that?

I know, just like The Doctor, as soon as I say hi to someone, I'll also say bye, I hope that I'll still go forward, that I'll let myself be open and be their friend, and let them be mine back.

Some of you might be rolling your eyes, because yes, I am talking mostly about a science fiction British show.

But it's helped me.

Because I travel. Because I say good bye more than most people ever will. Because I am a deep person and if you become my friend, you get in close and deep. Because I miss people. Because I feel everything deeply. Because I'm cheerful.

I want to be able to smile and say hello, even as I know, that a couple years down the road, I'll be saying goodbye.

That is my goal.

~Rubix

P.S Please read the beginning paragraphs if you feel sorry for me after you read this post. Because I don't. Don't feel sorry for me. I love my life. I love what God's doing in my life, and I love what He's teaching me.