Because of Rachel and Tawni…

Other than my family, I have lived with 17 people. 17 roommates. Om, that’s a lot. And it’s not over. More are coming. Soon.

The very first one was Rachel Reed (now Keys). We moved into our dorm room during CBU’s New Student Orientation week and became instant friends. I think what solidified our friendship was the bonding we had on our first trip to Target. I walked straight into a pole because I was talking (probably way too much) and looking at her instead of at where I was going. She stalled her manual car she had JUST learned to drive while getting on to the freeway (and made me think I was going to die). Awesome start. Awesome friendship. We became like sisters. She had a real one, but I never did. So, I learned a lot from this relationship. We drove each other crazy sometimes… I couldn’t stand her seriously annoying alarm clock that she never turned off quick enough. (It seriously sounded like dying birds in static – though apparently it was supposed to be a peaceful ocean sound.) She hated the way I opened wrappers to my favorite chocolate candies while she was trying to sleep. BUT we loved each other anyway. We loved borrowing each other’s clothes and going to Disneyland on “roommate dates” as often as possible… We had almost all of our classes together and even slept through a final together. Woopsy! AND we were terribly proud of the fact that we lived in the boys dorms and had a room that GLOWED pink all the way to the street. :)

Across the hall was Tawni Leigh (now Webster). Tawni and Rachel grew up together and had been best friends for a long time, but Rachel had moved away. They were DELIGHTED to be reunited and were instantly best friends again. Somehow, they let me instantly enter into that friendship… not as a third wheel, but as an equal… the third best friend. I’m not sure how I earned that privilege but, I must say… it was one of the biggest blessings of my life.

The next year, Rachel became an RA (on OUR wing) and Tawni and I were roommates. Tawni rolled right along with the obsession I had at the time for the color pink! We decorated our room in all pink and purple and had matching bedspreads and flowers and girly pictures. Tawni had to learn how to deal with my grouchy morning attitude problem and I had to learn to deal with her cheerful morning bubbliness. It was a challenge, but we worked through it… she quickly learned maybe she should wait to talk to me until I’d had a shower and I slowly learned to become a little less grouchy.

Sophomore year my heart began stirring for the first time about going overseas. Tawni caught me looking at a website about a particular summer program teaching in Asia. She asked what I was doing. I said, “I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about this. But I would never do this. But I kind of think…” I couldn’t even say the rest. She said, “Shanda. If you are thinking about this, God must be working in your heart. You should do it. I think you’d be great at it.” I thought I was crazy for thinking about it, but Tawni saw in me what I was not confident was there… and reminded me that if I was willing, God would equip me. And that gave me the courage to try. So I went.

After we all graduated, Rachel was working at CBU. An email was sent to all staff and faculty about applying to lead teams overseas the following summer. She forwarded it to me and said, “You should do this.” She had seen a passion developing in me and knew I needed to further develop it. I told her I couldn’t apply. It was only for faculty and staff. She insisted that I was perfect for the job and that I needed to at least ask if it was possible. So, I did and they said yes and I went overseas for the 3rd time.

And THAT solidified it. This was not just something I did a couple times in college for an experience. This is what I was made for.

Rachel and Tawni stood behind me and PUSHED me forward to places I wouldn’t  have mustered up the courage to go on my own. I would love them forever no matter what. But I love them in such a special way because of this fact.

You two gave me the courage to do what I do.  I love what I do. I can’t say thank you enough for helping me get here.

Also, I’m pretty sure that the 15 other people I have lived with should send you thank you cards. You put up with the hardest parts of living with me and helped me to work out a lot of my kinks so that those to follow would not have to deal with them.

Oh… and… girls, I LOVE watching you grow as wives and mommies. I love seeing your passion for your jobs. I love how you show your love for Jesus in all of those things. I want to be like you when I grow up. Thanks for letting me play with and hold your little boys this week. It delights me.

Because of my 8th grade Advisory teacher…

When I was in 8th grade I went to Standley Middle School.  We had a Zero Period Advisory Class.  It was 20 minutes long.  We heard announcements and discussed various topics.  Sometimes we had time to do homework.  I’m honestly not sure what the point of this class was. I had a teacher whose name I can not remember for the life of me. I remember her face. I remember where the classroom was. I remember how the room was arranged and where I sat.

But most importantly…

I also remember that one day the entire class vented to this now nameless teacher about how terrible the lines were in the cafeteria, and how sometimes we barely got our lunch in time to eat it before class.  Her response was, “Well, what can we do to change this?”  She had us brainstorm and write up a proposal. Then we presented this proposal to the school’s administration. THEN we started working in the cafeteria (hair nets and all) as volunteers to make the lines go faster. The whole school was grateful. People thought we were cool for causing a change.

It was a small thing. But I learned some valuable lessons:

1. When you’re unhappy with a situation… stop complaining and think of ways to make a difference.

2. If you want to see a change, you’re probably going to have to roll up your sleeves and put a hair net on.  (Or ya know… do SOMETHING out of the norm of your life.)

3. No matter who you are and how “small” you may feel, you have the potential to make a difference in the world around you… but only if you DO something and are willing to WORK for it… (and maybe wear a hair net).

Because of my 8th grade Advisory teacher, I learned to dream about ways I could change the world!!!  I learned to stop complaining and DO something!  :) (Okay, sometimes I still complain… and sometimes I don’t do anything… but I learned that I SHOULD stop complaining and DO something!)

I love teachers who take the time to teach valuable lessons about life.  So, whatever your name is – Thanks for teaching me such a valuable lesson!!!

Because of Jessica…

I remember a Sunday morning when I was maybe four years old… I went to church and heard a sermon about hell.  I was absolutely terrified.  After church I was filled with fear… and liquids!  I really needed to go potty.  :) I remember that the women’s bathroom was locked for some reason and I could not wait… so I had to use the men’s.  While I sat on the toilet in the men’s bathroom I prayed for Jesus to save me from my sins.  I had a basic grasp of the facts of sin and the need for salvation but I really didn’t know what I was doing and I just knew I was supposed to pray for forgiveness if I didn’t want to spend eternity in hell.  I never told anyone about my prayer that day because I was insanely shy and kept most everything inside.

The years went on and I understood more and more… I realized that the Sunday I prayed in the men’s bathroom I had not actually made a decision… but simply had a fear reaction.  I knew I had to figure things out and make a choice, but as my understanding grew so did my confusion.  There were a lot of issues that played into that confusion.  One of them was my pride issue.  Ugh.  Stinkin pride.  My friends always just assumed I knew Jesus from birth or something because of who my family was… and I let them believe it.  I remember one Sunday morning having a discussion when everyone talked about the day they were baptized.  They said, “did you get a bible for your baptism Shanda?”  and rather than telling them I had not been baptized and that I didn’t have a true relationship with the Lord, I simply said, “no.”  I was actually really quite embarrassed about the whole situation: my unbelief/confusion, my refusal to humble myself in obedience, etc.

Then when I was 11, my dad’s ministry at one church ended and we went to my grandparent’s church for a while.  That church was probably the most consistent place in my childhood.  My mom grew up there… we went there to visit multiple times a year… and whenever my dad was not on staff at a church, that’s where we went.  So I had lots of friends, including Jessica, who I had known since we were 2 and our mom’s started hanging out.  So, at age 11 we again became the inseparable pair.

One Sunday morning I sat by Jessica in church.  It was a Lord’s Supper day.  In the past, I’d always avoided sitting near friends on such days because I didn’t want them to see that I didn’t participate but for some reason I felt safer now.  After church that day, Jessica told me that she had noticed I didn’t take the Lord’s Supper and asked if I had ever made the decision to follow Jesus/become a Christian.  For the first time in my life, I felt permission to not be perfect in front of a friend.  I told her I hadn’t made that decision.  Her response was not one of judgement but one of care and love.  She told me she would pray for me because it was a big decision, and one that would change my life.

I can not even describe the weight that was lifted off of my shoulders that day.  No more pretending!  It wasn’t an overnight decision… but that began a process that would lead me into a life of following Jesus.

The words she said were so simple… but the impact they had was so profound.  Because of Jessica, I felt free to admit my imperfections and to recognize my NEED for a Savior.

Moral of the story… Show people you care.  It might change their world!

Because of a thief, a fire starter, and a drunk man…

The following includes a story I do not tell often.  I don’t think I’ve ever told my family about all of it actually… But, if I’m talking about moments that have caused me to become who I am… This is one of them…

I think I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.  It was Christmas time.  My family lived in a tiny little house with very little storage, so we had a storage unit.  We went to said storage unit to pick up our Christmas decorations.  We were on our way home to decorate and, because we HAVE to drink eggnog when we decorate our tree, we stopped at the grocery store to get some… AND because my family travels as a herd, we ALL went in to the grocery store to buy it, leaving our Christmas ornaments unattended in the back of our Volvo station wagon.  Someone apparently thought that the boxes looked to be filled with great treasures so they broke a window and stole them.  Dandy.

We did not have extra money to fix car windows so it was boarded up with cardboard and duct tape.  A few days (or weeks?) later my brother (I only had one back then) and I pulled out our sleeping bags, as we did every Friday night, and watched movies in the livingroom until we fell asleep.  A couple hours into our asleepness (yep, that’s a word) I woke up to banging on the front door, glowing out the window, my dad RUNNING in the room and opening the door to a fire man and then frantically running down the porch stairs towards the glow.  I stood up and walked to the doorway and stared as our car and tree went up  in flames.  They stopped the fire, but the car was no longer a car… just a frame of a car.  The fireman suspected that either someone purposefully set fire to the car or they just dropped a cigarette in it and POOF!  We will never know.

Our minimal insurance did not cover car fires… and if we didn’t have money to fix the window, we certainly didn’t have money to buy another car.  So, we went without one for a really long time… a couple years maybe?  The timing of things is a blur.  In that long carless period, we road the bus everywhere and walked places that were close enough.  Public transportation is an adventure, let me just say.  I learned so much about people through these adventures.  My parents, especially my overly talkative father, were constantly “making friends” with all kinds of people.  I learned a lot from that.  I also learned a lot about flexibility and endurance despite challenges.

Another challenge came during this carless period when our washing machine broke… and, shocker, we didn’t have money to get that replaced either… but that is what laundromats are for.  However, going to a laundromat with all of your laundry can be a challenge when you do not have a car.  Have no fear though.  There is always a way.  My mom packed up all our laundry in the hamper and pillow cases.  The hamper went inside our “little red wagon” and we were each handed something to carry.  We walked up the big hill by our house and down the street to the shopping center where there was a laundromat.  I’m not going to lie, my prideful little self found the whole situation rather humiliating, but I acted tough.  I didn’t want my parents to know it bothered me because I was sure it wasn’t exactly a picnic for them either.

I walked slower than everyone else… on purpose… I wanted to lag behind because well, I just wasn’t happy with the situation… We walked the back way through the shopping center, behind Vien Dong (the vietnamese grocery store we shopped at).  Three men sat on the brick wall drinking from paper bags, like most people do on a Saturday morning.  They were snickering about the little family with laundry in a wagon.  My family was several yards in front of me at this point.  They may have even been around the corner.  One of the men hopped off the wall and started walking towards me.  He turned to his little drinking pals and said, “they look too clean to be homeless” and then… he sniffed me… and said, “smells clean too.  I don’t know.”  Then, laughing, he found his way back to his wall.

I felt worthless.  Honestly.  I did.  I walked into the laundromat, handed my mom my pillowcase full of laundry and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”  I walked into the not so clean public restroom, locked the door, sunk down to the floor, and wept.  In those few minutes I remember being angry with God for allowing me to be born.  Maybe a dramatic reaction to a stupid drunk man behind a grocery store… but I felt it… and for so many reasons, that day I really felt like things would be better if I had just never existed.

Depressing story?  Sure.  Maybe.  But… They meant it for evil, God meant it for good. What good?  Well, for one… I learned to have a heart of compassion.

Experiences and moments like these, God used to shape my heart.  I eventually learned that my life was VALUABLE and BEAUTIFUL to Him, but I will never forget what it felt like to not know that wonderful truth… and because of that, I will spend the rest of my life teaching others about the God who loves them in the midst of that brokenness and who wants to bring them through it, like He did for me.  Those days, I was in a pit… and I now can sit with others who are in pits of their own and say,  “Let me tell you about my Savior…  He climbed into the pit I lived in and carried me out… and He wants to do that for you.”

Because of a thief, a fire starter, and drunk man… I am where I am today.  If I knew who they were, I’d tell them “what you did for evil, God has used for good… and I am so grateful.”

Because of my mom…

I feel like stories about my dad appear more on my blog than stories about my mom… I guess that just happens when you miss someone… but because I think my mom is equally awesome and influential, my first “Because of ____” post is going to be about her.

I’m a pastor’s kid.  You’ve all heard stories about those.  Things don’t always turn out well.  There are many reasons for that.  I experienced many of the negative aspects of such a life myself.  Trust me.  And yet, I think it all turned out pretty well.  Both of my parents had something to do with that… but today I will tell one particular story about one particular moment.

I was in elementary school.  I don’t recall exactly how old I was.  I would guess it was about 2nd grade.  It was a Wednesday night.  Our church had prayer meeting, Bible study, and choir practice.  After Bible study, all the kids whose parents were in choir went to the playground.  I wasn’t supposed to because I had a responsibility… but I didn’t want responsibility.  I wanted to have fun.

See… my dad was the Minister of Music and Education.  He led choir practice.  At this particular time in our church, volunteers were sparse and NO one was willing to hang out on Wednesday nights and run the sound system for the choir.  So, my dad taught me how to work all the dials on the sound board and I had to sit up in the balcony and listen and adjust accordingly… push play on the cassette tapes… rewind… etc.  But suddenly, this particular day… I HATED that.

I snuck off and my mom came and found me.  I said, “I’m not going to do it.”  She said, “Shanda, you have to.  There is no one else who can.”  I said, “Why?  I just want to be like all the other kids and go play.”  She said something like this: “Well, I’m really sorry to tell you this Shanda… but you are not just like all the other kids.  You have a Dad that God called to be in ministry… and that is not a mistake.  God put YOU in this family because he wants YOU to live a life that is different from all the other kids.  I know it is not easy… but this is not just your dad’s job… this is our whole family’s life and ministry.  We do it together.  We will try to let you be a kid and enjoy life like the other kids do, but you will also have responsibilities that they do not and it isn’t just because WE give them to you.  It’s because God put you in this position.”  

I cried… and then I went up into the sound booth… and I did what I had to do… but I told God I was mad at him for not letting me be normal.

And today I think… If my mom hadn’t taught me that I was made for something other than a normal life, I might have settled for a normal life… whatever that is… and I would probably not be where I am today.  So thanks Mom.  I didn’t like it then… but I love it now.

Because of my mom, I am where I am.