Goodbye WordPress. You shall be missed— Updated URL

I am closing my WordPress account. 

Well, actually, the account is going to stay open. My blog is going to be up here, but I’m not posting in it anymore.

This morning (midnight…it’s 4 AM now) I was working on editing my blog when I remembered the one thing I hated most about WordPress. The templates are ugly. If I want a custom header, I am pretty much stuck with the boring grey backgrounds. 

I needed a change. 

So, I am moving back to Blogger. My old account is gone, but I made a new one in its place. I am still working on formatting the page, adding widgets, and creating my profile, but hopefully it will be up and running soon. 

I will keep a link to this blog on my new one…just for the memories.

Goodbye WordPress…hello Blogger!

-Lissa Kristine

http://www.honeylissabee.blospot.com

The King and the Queen Visit NYC

On Tuesday, my friend Alex and I decided to take a visit to New York City. The last few times, even we didn’t have anything too crazy happen to us. Actually, the only crazy thing was us being treated normally. Well, that certainly changed yesterday.

Hello Burger King!

The day started off with a trip to the Buger King Drive-thru to pick up Breakfast to eat on the train ride to the city. We were a little rushed because we got a late start, but we figured we would still have time to pick up something to eat. So, we ordered our food-french toast sticks, cheesy tots, and hash browns (we both wanted fries, but they don’t serve those for breakfast!) 

Then, we were told to drive to the front of the restaurant to wait for our food. So, we sat in the “no parking zone” and waited…and waited…and waited… Finally, we got our food and left.

Bye-Bye Burger King!

We got to Convent Station and bought our tickets. Then, we went back out to the car to get our stuff and take care of the whole parking permit thing. That’s when it happened. Alex moved the bag with our breakfast onto the floor of the car, and before we knew it the wind blew the entire bag of food out of the car. The boxes spilled open and we were left with no food-aside from a lone syrup dipping cup.

Burger King Tummy Troubles

We wanted Burger King. We really wanted Burger King. So, we figured our only option would be to make a pit stop for breakfast when

 we got to the city. So, we got our food and sat down to eat. I took a bite of my hash brown bites and noticed something was odd. There was an obvious bitter aftertaste-like the taste of earwax. Alex noticed the same thing, but this was the second time paying for the same meal so we were going to eat it. 

Until, we started to feel sick. My head started pounding, and the thought of eating more food made us even more nauseous than we already were. We didn’t care that we still had food left. One more bite, and we would have returned our meal to Burger King. So, we left and went to Walgreens for Jolly Ranchers to suck on to help our stomachs (it worked.)

Chased for the CD

We were walking around the city, when a black guy handed me a CD. I wasn’t planning on listening to it, but I didn’t have time to argue, so I just took it. Then, the guy continued to follow me. “Where are you from? Hey, babe…” I told him I was from Jersey, but when he continued, I started to feel uncomfortable. So, I told Alex to pick up the pace. Then, the guy started running after me and grabbed the CD out of my hand yelling at me to “give [him] back his ****.”

Accidental Emergency Elevator

Alex and I decided to take a trip to the Metropolitan Museum to look around and get lunch. We took a few elevator trips upstairs and downstairs before we decided we would eat in the cafeteria downstairs. During one of the trips in the elevator, we were alone until a man stopped the closing door. I pushed the button again-and apparently my overstuffed purse bumped the emergency call button in the process…oops. 

We got off the elevator before anything happened-of course that was not without being pushed by the man and woman in the elevator (even though we were not getting off at their floor).

Even the Italians think we are Fat!

We sat down with our food to eat in the Metropolitan Cafeteria. A little while later, a group of girls sat down at the table next to us. Alex recognized that they were speaking in Italian. Then, he realized that he two of them were talking about us-using Italian slang and calling us “fat Oompa Loompas.” Later, a couple of guys sat down with them and they continued to insult us. While Alex didn’t know enough Italian to fight back-he knew enough to know most of what we were being called-and even I could tell we were being insulted. They kept looking at us, laughing, pointing-yet they refused to make eye contact. We left half laughing at how they thought we did not know what they were saying, and half mad at how stuck-up and rude they were. 

HOLD UP!

It was getting dark, and Alex and I were walking around the city. We got to a crosswalk and started to cross the street. We were halfway across when the crossing guard stuck her arm out and yelled at us “HOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLDDDDDD UUUUUUUUPPPPPP!” So, we were forced to stand and wait-in the crosswalk because there was a crowd of people behind us. I’m not sure why we couldn’t just finish crossing the street since we were halfway across.

Molten Means Hot…Right?

So, we decided to end our day much like we end most days in Jersey-by visiting Barnes and Noble. That’s when we saw it-the Molten Chocolate Bundt. I went up to order one of the bundts and a broccoli cheddar strata. The cashier in the café asked if I wanted it warm, and I assumed she was talking about the strata. Nope. She was talking about the bundt. She actually had to ask if I wanted the molten chocolate bundt served warm. 

I told Alex about this, and we laughed at how silly it was. Then, a little while later, we overhead the three behind the counter laughing and mocking me. When I told them I could hear them, they continued. Then, Alex decided to get the name of the cashier who took the order. She walked away and completely ignored him. Fortunately, we were able to get her name and leave a complaint with the manager of the bookstore.

Beware of the Gap as you Jump Off the Moving Train

So, we got to Penn Station and onto the train back home to Jersey. Neither of us really wanted to go home, but we were both exausted and my feet were killing me. (I actually had some blisters on them and I was limping around on Wednesday). We were at least going to enjoy the sixty-minute chance to sit and relax. Unfortunately, unlike our previous trip, we were stuck on pretty crappy train on the way back. In November, we had a larger bench seat where we put our feet up and relaxed. This trip, we were cramped together in a very uncomfortable train with absolutely no room. (Much like the trip to the city in November when we were forced to sit with some lady who had all of her bags on the floor). 

So, we tried to relax to the best of our ability while laughing about the day’s events. We noticed it was strange that there was nobody announcing the stops, but we didn’t think too much of it. We finally reached our stop and stood up. I looked back one quick time to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. 

We got to the first door (the one on our car) but it was closed. A man told us to push the button and go to the next car. We, then, pushed the button to get off of the train. It closed immediately. We then rushed across to the next open door where a man was standing there holding the door open for (what appeared to be) his wife and daughter. Both Alex and I were afraid that the train would start moving as we were trying to get off. It’s not like the train was behind schedule; actually, it was early. 

But, I guess it would make a lot of sense for them to rush us off of the train. Especially after announcing at Penn Station to “watch the gap.” 

 

I wonder what those Italians would say about the Fat Oompa Loompas rolling off the moving train with their cold “molten” chocolate cake….

 

Reading Through my Journal

[She] told me that she tries to turn to God, but when things get rough, it’s hard- it feels like God has turned His back.

I replied that I know how that feels, but when God does not feel near [it] is when it is especially important to just pray. Sometimes, you need to ignore those feelings and not rely on them because feelings are not always accurate. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.”

When things get rough, it can be dangerous to rely on feelings, so with every ounce you MUST have faith. Pray, even if you feel as if you are praying to nobody-because God is there, and He IS listening. Maybe He has just taken a step back to make sure you really trust Him, or maybe He is teaching something. Regardless, God’s love is eternal and unconditional. God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He does NOT change with the seasons; His love does not change based on feelings.

“For it is by Grace you have been saved, through faith, and this not of yourselves, it is the gift of God so that no one can boast.” You did nothing to earn salvation, nor can you do anything to take it away.

“And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose…What then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?…Who can separate us from the love of Christ Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?…No, in all things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from he love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I’ve gone through many times where I don’t bother praying because I don’t feel God, but I’ve learned, and I am still learning that feelings are not trustworthy, and when it comes to this, there are no solid 100% scientific facts to prove that God exists and the Bible is true, but that just means you need to have faith.

This is what my Bible says about faith:

“Hebrews 11:

What is True Faith?: Even the Giants of Faith face Disappointment.

11:39-‘These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.’

Reading between the lines tells us a lot about the original readers of the book of Hebrews. Converting to Christ has brought much abuse…As the trials continue, however, some begin to loose heart.

The these discouraged people, Hebrews 11 presents a stirring reminder of true faith. It’s tempting to think of faith as a kind of magic formula…What are the signs of true faith?

…Life does not always follow a predictable patten of happy endings…

What is faith? And how can you be sure you’ve got it? The picture of faith that emerges here does not fit into a formula. Sometimes faith leads to victory and triumph. Sometimes it requires a gritty determination to hang on at any cost…Both rest on the belief that God is in ultimate control and will keep His promises-whether in this life or the next…

The faith described in Hebrews is not sugarcoated and does not guarantee a life of luxury and ease. It is a tough faith; a constant commitment to hang on and believe God is against all odds, no matter what.”

[Written Monday October 22, 2007]

Caring (or lack there of)

Like I do on a regular basis, I decided to go online and check out the Velocity website. This time, it was different. I figured the topic to Pastor Matt’s latest blog entry, and I wanted to see if my ideas were correct.

They were.

Pastor Matt is writing from the perspective of an adult who was desperate to fit in with others as a teen. I, however, am still a teenager. I am learning that I am looking into friendships with people who don’t want me around.

In middle school, it was obvious people didn’t want me around. I was called stupid and ugly on a daily basis. I have based some of my perceptions on the opinions of those pre-teens who told me that nobody liked me.

I did have a couple “friends,” but after they turned on me I was left hurt and terrified of going to school. I went through a period of time where I didn’t care if I was accepted or not. In fact, I was desperate not to get accepted into any group at school or church. I did everything I could to keep myself from trying to belong.

I never really saw that the people who I somewhat hang out with don’t want me around. I always blamed it on myself. I usually sit off alone (based on fears of people not wanting to sit near me that developed years ago). I don’t join in activities as much as I should. I figured maybe I was giving off vibes that I didn’t like to be around people.

I guess I should’ve trusted the vibes I had gotten before. There were things that were nagging at me-telling me that they didn’t care about me. Sitting alone on at least one occasion when I couldn’t really walk around (while they hung out away from me). The looks directed towards me from one girl in particular that screamed “I don’t like you.” Still, I figured that I needed to make more of an effort to get out of my shell a little bit. I needed to stop sitting alone and isolating myself.

So, for once I decided to change that. On Sunday I didn’t sit alone at youth or in the service in the morning. I spent the day talking with people, and not sitting off alone all night.

Everything was fine, until after the service. I was hanging out with a group of people, and they started making plans to hang out. Now, I wouldn’t be able to afford to go out to eat, but that doesn’t matter. I was there throughout their whole planning, but not once did anybody ask if I wanted to come along.

Does anybody remember elementary school when you had to mail out party invitations or invite everybody in the class so nobody was left out? I wish we still did things that way. It’s like when I was little and my mom was babysitting. If someone had some treat (like candy) they could only eat it if there was enough for everybody. That way nobody was left out.

Because being left out stinks. Feeling invisible is a terrible feeling. I told a friend that once. We were discussing favorite and least favorite superpowers to have, and I told her that the worst superpower is invisibility. Sure, you can play pranks on people and such, but feeling invisible is awful.

I tried to shrug being left out off. I didn’t have the money, so I wouldn’t have been able to go even if I was asked.

It got harder though. Especially after I mentioned that I was hurt by being completely left out.

They shrugged, and acted like it was no big deal.

It’s one thing to hurt someone’s feelings (intentional or not). Not caring is a completely different thing.

Feeling invisible is bad, but feeling like people don’t care about you is so much worse. I know of some of the unfortunate consequences of being treated like crap by people who don’t care they are hurting me. I don’t think people realize what that can do to a person.

I’m not going to treat people like crap. I’m not going to do what those people did to me. If I’m making plans to hang out when they are around, I’ll ask them if they want to come. They probably won’t want to, but I’ll at least make sure I don’t exclude them.

It’s a good thing the message on Sunday was on forgiveness. I am learning a lesson on forgiveness right now. I am learning to forgive people who hurt me. Not people who are sorry, but people who don’t even care I was hurt.

And I think those people are the hardest to forgive.

This message was brought to you by…

The Official Baby Bop Carrot Seed Protection Agency

“My Little Pony My Little Pony
Beautiful ponies for overcharged prices
My Little Pony will always love you
But they’ll make your parents poor!”

“The I Can’t Stand When Kids Are Mean To Each Other Foundation. (Friends don’t let friends become pompous jerks that treat people like garbage.)”

The letter L.

The number 2.4

And from contributions to your PBS Station by viewers like you.

Thank you.

Love,

Queen Lissa

Hiding Behind the Mask

It’s not easy being real. Sometimes, it’s just plain hard not to put on a phony smile and act like everything is good when the truth is you are completely broken.

I know.

I have not been real. I think that every day I hide part of who I am. A friend makes a joke about something that hits me hard, and I force a laugh so he doesn’t know. I’ll even joke around myself so that I can try to fool the world into thinking that I’m alright. It’s not just the laughing at jokes that I don’t think are funny. I’ve gone beyond that. I’m so afraid of revealing myself that I’ve completely lied. I’ve said “no” to a joking comment when the real answer was “yes.”

I’m not sure how much of this I can take. These fake smiles, and saying that I’m okay when I’m completely shattered inside. The show that I’m loving church and youth group when God is the furthest thing from my mind. Giving up on something I love, and pretending to hate it because I’m afraid of being hurt. It’s not easy putting on a show.

And I shouldn’t have to do it. I shouldn’t have to cover up who I am. I’m not the person some people think I am. If you just took one look inside my mind, you would know that I live a double life.

Unfortunately, sometimes I get too good at this act. There are times where I don’t even know who I really am. I don’t know what I am feeling. It’s weird to say this, but it’s true. I hide parts of myself from the rest of the world, and eventually I even cover them up from myself.

I also try to hide it from God. It’s stupid…I know. Why would I even think I can do something like that? I can’t hide who I am from God. He sees right through the mask I put on for everybody-whether it’s friends, family, or even myself. Still, I stop pouring out my heart, and I close it up. I try not to let my thoughts and feelings leak out-even at the cost of neglecting what I have claimed to be most important to me: my relationship with Christ.

I can’t do it anymore. The lies, the hiding who I really am. It’s tearing me apart-making me feel broken and numb inside. This mask I put on costs more than some of you know.

I’m not saying I’m going to reveal my deepest thoughts and secrets to the world. I’m not going to be somebody who opens up to everybody who comes near. At least, not now-and maybe not ever. I am only saying that I need to stop playing games with myself. I need to change, and be myself. I have considered things it may cost, but I also know that it will cost more to live this double life.

Foolish heart looks like we’re here again
Same old game of plastic smile
Don’t let anybody in
Hiding my heartache, will this glass house break
How much will they take before I’m empty
Do I let it show, does anybody know?

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I’m loosening my grasp
There’s no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Painted on, life is behind a mask
Self-inflicted circus clown
I’m tired of the song and dance
Living a Charade, always on parade
What a mess I’ve made of my existence
But you love me even now
And still I see somehow

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I’m loosening my grasp
There’s no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Wonderful, beautiful is what you see
When you look at me
You’re turning the tattered fabric of my life into
A perfect tapestry
I just wanna be me

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I’m loosening my grasp
There’s no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

And you love me just as I am

Wonderful, Beautiful is what you see
When you look at me

-Natalie Grant

Love,

Queen Lissa

Gosh! Such Bratty Lemons at the Carnival!

Trust me, the post tittle should make sense by the end of this post. If not, well too bad so sad. Don’t cry about it though.

So, for those of you who didn’t know about it (even though there are signs posted everywhere) the Montville Carnival started at 6:00 PM today. Finally, Alex and I would be taking our show out on the road, and away from the Barnes and Nibble and Rockawocken Shopping Mall. (There is nothing to do at Willowbrook so we only go when we want California Pizza Kitchen).

We got there around seven or so, and immediately noticed the cigarette “smell of death” and the “lines” which looked more like mobs of people. Alex’s mom had tried to hunt down the $20 wristbands for unlimitted rides, but they were all sold out at the library and 7-Eleven. Still, for an extra $5 we got our wristbands there and then went off to stand in the so-called lines.

There are some rides we liked…and a couple that we just hated. One of our least favorite, and funniest rides happened to be “Scat.” Alex and I immediately determined that we were too fat for the ride as we had no arm room . We could not hold on, which was fine until the ride started spinning. The speed of the ride, or the fact that we stood at an angle was not so much of a problem. Feeling like we were going to slide out of the loose safety belts and up out of the ride was though.

While Alex and I were trying to get our safety belts on, there was one girl at the end. (We later found out she was eleven-years-old.) Out of nowhere, she turned to Alex “Don’t touch me! I don’t like you!”

Alex turned to her and immediately responded: “Well, I hate you!”

If I said something like that girl did my parents would slap me and then make me wash my mouth out with soap. I’m sure Alex’s mom would have done the same.

One of our favorite rides happened to be the Gravitron. I’m sure most of you know that is the one where it spins and you get plastered onto the wall. It was my first (and second) time on the ride, and we both enjoyed it-especially the flatness of our stomachs during and right after the ride. Scrambler was alright, but deadly. The first ride, Alex got in first with me following, and the entire ride he slid over to my end of the ride and squished me against the side of the seat. The second ride it was in reverse-but we decided on going for a third time.

I think one of the most nauseating rides was (don’t laugh) the Berry Go Round. Who knew the “family friendly” ride could spin so freakin’ fast?! We were actually somewhat plastered to the ride…like the graviton. And we thought it would be a more gentle ride…we were wrong!

One of our favorite, and funniest rides at the Carnival was the Octopus. Apparently, it was everybody else’s favorite too. The line was ridiculously long! Fortunately, the King and Queen were there with a melody of quality diddys to entertain everybody waiting in line. Some were vocal, some were vocal with kazoo, and there were even some kazoo solos by yours truely.

1. When the Saints go Marching In
2. This Land is Your Land
3. Jesus Loves Me
4. Do You Hear What I Hear?
5. Let it Snow
6. We Wish You a Merry Christmas
7. Take it All
8. I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas
9. The Chicken Dance
10. A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
11. God Bless America
12. The Star Spangled Banner
13. My Country ’tis of Thee
14. America the Beautiful
15. This Little Light of Mine
16. How Great is Our God

Some people actually sang along!

So, while in line, Alex and I started having a pretend argument. We decided that after the ride we would go get something to eat, but I was more concerned about something to drink. Our argument started by screaming back and forth to each other about whether we wanted beverages or food, but it soon became “Food and Beverages!” “Beverages and Food!”

Some guy behind us in line spoke up “What about condiments?”

Somehow, this turned into an argument about whether a lemon is a condiment or not. Apparently, according to this guy, bread is one. Even later on that night, this group of people yelled at us about condiments and lemons.

Almost as soon as we got on the ride, Alex and I immediately said we regretted it. It was frightening! While we were waiting for the ride to start, Alex said something and when I repeated it back he half-screamed “I don’t want gosh! I want God!” Before the ride even started, Alex was praying. During the ride, we screamed out The Lord’s Prayer. It was a scary ride, but we ended up riding it twice afterwards.

Right now, I am eating cotton candy and hoping the world will stop spinning. Carnivals love rides that go round and round and round and round…

Now that I read over it…well you guys missed out on the show. Arguing with people about lemons is really a lot of fun, and you should try it some time.

So, what’s my little Biblical moral for the day? Well…I think Alex covered it on the Octopus. When you are afraid or in trouble…don’t just call for anybody around. You should want God.

Yes, I am aware of how cheesy that sounds, but I’m only 16 (17 on Sunday!). I have the right to be cheesy if I want to because…well…I CAN.

Until next time (which hopefully will not be as long as the wait last time),

Queen Lissa

My Medicine Cabinet Jesus

I’m pretty sure all of us have been asked what kind of Jesus we worship. Do we worship a “Cardboard Cutout Jesus?” One that isn’t active in our daily lives that we recite the same old tired prayers to at church, before meals, and at night? “Now I lay me down to sleep…” (which is just a morbid prayer for kids to say, but that’s another issue). Do we worship a “Holiday Jesus” that only comes twice a year for Christmas and Easter, but is never around for the rest of the year? Do we worship a “Vending Machine Jesus?” We ask Jesus for things when we want them, and try to use our good works and promises as payment.I think I’ve worshiped all of these at one point or another, but I think more than anything I worship a “Medicine Cabinet Jesus.”

I came to realize this the other day when I was checking my email. I have two email accounts that I check on a regular basis: one for personal emails (business emails and such are forwarded to that one as well) and the other for sites such as Myspace, Facebook, and Xanga to send notifications. I saw in my inbox that someone left me a comment on my “Worth It” Xanga entry (which is the blog post before this one for those who want to read it). One part of the comment stood out at me:

Why do you think we turn to God because we are weak? It is BECAUSE we are weak that we turn to him, we are insecure and longing for support no matter how disillusioned it is. When we are strong and self sustained we turn from God, because we are rightfully happy with ourselves. Faith is a stimulant, an addiction that we use to cope with the difficulties of life. Like any addiction, faith has the potential to ruin one’s life if it is misused.

I’m pretty sure all of us have done this at one point or another. When things are going well, we just live our lives as we want. However, as soon as something goes wrong we are on our knees praying. We use God like we would cold medicine. You don’t take it everyday, just when you start to feel sick (or in my case, when you are completely miserable and desperate). It’s like God is just a bottle of pills in our medicine cabinet that we take out when something is wrong, but we don’t touch it when things are good.

I can be especially stubborn with both my relationship with Christ and taking medicine. I usually wait until my throat is too sore to swallow, my sinuses are clogged, and my head is throbbing before I even look to see if there is anything in the medicine cabinet to relieve the pain. Often, I find that when things are bad, I try to handle things on my own. I don’t drop to my knees and pray until I feel completely overwhelmed.

That’s not how it is supposed to be. I wonder how things would be if I didn’t treat my relationship with God like a bottle of pills. What if no matter if I had a good day or a bad day I opened up my heart to God and worshiped Him every night? Maybe things would be different.

I still think I would be worshiping a “Medicine Cabinet Jesus,” but something would be different. Instead of a bottle of cold pills, maybe He will be a multi-vitamin. Part of my everyday life and someone I turn to when things are good or bad.

“Blessed be Your Name
when the sun’s shining down on me
when the world’s all that it should be
Blessed be Your Name.

Blessed be Your Name
on the road marked with suffering
though there’s pain in the offering
Blessed be Your Name”

Worth it

The week before Easter, we had a worship concert: “Facedown” at Velocity Reborn. I was somewhat annoyed at this because the previous Friday night I slowly lost my voice until, before the night was over, I could hardly speak above a whisper. Saturday my voice was nothing, and by Sunday I could speak with slightly more ease. However, when I attempted to sing, there was no sound.

So, I did what I could do. I mouthed the words, wrote in my journal, sat while reflecting on the lyrics, and attempted to sing.

Then, Pastor Matt started to talk about the cross. That Sunday was the once annually we took communion as a youth group. Unlike normal communion at Sunday service, a video was shown. Last year, when we were shown clips from “The Passion” I looked away. I knew there would be blood, and I didn’t want to see it. This year, I knew that I needed to watch. I held the wafer in one hand, and the plastic grape juice-filled cup in the other. As the scene from the movie played, I sat almost completely still except for my trembling hands. With each whip lash and with each time the hammer pounded the nail I told myself two things. “He did that for me.” and “I’m not worth it.”

For years, I’ve struggled with feelings of self-worth. I still do. There have been times where I’ve felt that I wasn’t really worth anything. I’ve grown up as a Christian, and I’ve memorized verses on my value and worth to God, but nothing ever really clicked. The head simply would not communicate this message to my heart.

When Pastor Matt asked us “who here is glad Jesus died on the cross?” my initial response was “I’m not.” I will admit it, I’ve messed up. I’ve been at points where I’ve felt that the dirt had more worth than I did. Why would the King of all sacrifice Himself for me? I’m not worth anything like that at all.

Thing is though, even though I didn’t deserve what God did, He still did it. Even though I feel worthless at times, and I tell myself I’m not worth that sacrifice, God doesn’t see it the way I see it. He sees me as beautiful, and He thinks I’m worth every drop of that precious blood that was shed on that cross.

Jesus didn’t make that sacrifice because I was worth it. I am worth it because Jesus made that sacrifice.

I’m starting to think there were fumes in my old school…

If only Shoprite would get back to me…not that I want to work, but I kinda want to earn money. Let me tell you that it stinks being sixteen. I don’t care if it’s “Sweet Sixteen” the job selection in the area is nothing decent (example: ShopWRONG). But of course, even mentioning that I have a diploma doesn’t do me any good in these places where you have to be at least 17. Well, maybe after my Birthday…when all of the other teens who are older than me have already filled up the open positions because they did not have to wait until the end of June to turn 17.

About two weeks ago, I realized why Facebook is so awesome (although, I still am on Myspace). I reunited with my best friend in second grade (who still has the stationary I gave her as a going away present about eight or nine years ago). Over the past week or so, I’ve realized how fast things are changing. It was only about seven or eight years ago (possibly not even that long ago though) that I was playing games involving unicorns, princesses, and even Telletubbies and Pokemon (hey! Telletubbies was cool when I was seven…we don’t need to mention me watching online episodes a few weeks ago, do we?).

Then it dawned on me…the girl my mom used to babysit when I was in fourth grade is now a freshman in high school. The kids I’ve known my entire life because of my mom’s babysitting jobs are almost done with high school. I’m talking to friends I haven’t seen in up to nine or ten years.

The little boy I used to read to in school when I was in fifth grade is a sixth grader now. It’s hard to think that he’s only a year younger than my sister, but he is. When I was his reading buddy, he could hardly read. I met him when he was five, now he is at least eleven years old.

I emailed my second grade teacher a few days ago. She was my favorite teacher, and in the reply email she told me to call her by her first name: Christine. It’s been nine years since I was in her class, and the idea of calling her by her first name is strange. I can call teachers in general by their first name, but calling one of my OWN teachers by her first name? It just doesn’t seem to be right.

I’m no longer class of 2009. I’m done with high school before 2009. I’m done before the seniors graduating 2008 are done. It’s kind of cool to think that I have all of these friends who are 17 and 18 who are still in school, and I’m 16 (and 3/4 tomorrow) and I’ve finished high school. It’s cool, but it’s also a little scary at the same time.

I guess the shock will wear off someday. I’m wondering if I did the right thing over the past few months. Regardless of my doubts and regrets, I can’t change the past. So, I guess I have to go onto the future a little earlier than I originally expected. I’m not sure I’m ready for this (but is anybody ever “ready”?) I can’t really turn back now though. For now, I’m just going to enjoy life. After all, I’ve decided that since I finished high school at sixteen I get the right to rub it in a little bit (hey! I’m the Queen! I can give myself these rights if I want to!)

Until next time, faithful blog-reading commoners (which apparently is only Pastor Matt…unless other commoners have not commented after I issued the royal comment decree)

Queen Lissa (of nothing but this blog: “From the Mind of Queen Lissa”)

Edit: Shoprite called and said there isn’t a place for me, and they don’t “feel comfortable” bringing me back because of my attitudes problem. The ONLY reason I had an attitude at work was because I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight. Plus, I was told that I would have a job. So, as much as I don’t want to work there, I am extremely annoyed at them right now. I guess it’s time to see if that union that I was forced to join will do me any good.

Velocity…almost two years

Everybody should know by now that I am addicted to journaling. If you have not realized this, then I suggest you get examined by a medical professional as soon as possible. I’ve been writing in journals since sixth grade (though I did attempt to start diaries earlier in life.) Starting in February 2006, I started a habit of completing the journal before starting a new one. (And yes, the journal in the picture is the one I was writing in at the time, though it looks nicer in the pic. My copy is somewhat worn.)

If I think about it, I suppose I should wait another month before writing this blog. I’m going to forget to write this by then, so I’m going to write it now.

In late August and September 2004, I went to a small church near my home: Bethel Assembly of God. My reasons for wanting to go were simple: it was an Assemblies of God church, and I wanted to go to Missionettes. I soon learned that there was no Missionettes program at Bethel, and to my disappointment, the youth program was lacking. My sister had friends from her school (two sisters, one in Kacki’s grade, and the other a year older.) On Wednesday nights, I was the only teenager. I was too old to hang out with my sister and her elementary school friend, and too young for the adult Bible study. The solution was simple; we found a new church so I could be in a youth group where the youth and leaders weren’t the same person (me).

And so, starting in October 2004, I started going to the youth group at Abundant Life Worship Center of Whippany (ALWCW). Xtreme Youth. They met most Fridays in the year, though not the last Friday of the month. Occasionally, they would have youth services. Most weeks, we would go out bowling, roller skating, or somewhere else. By far, it was the most expensive youth group I ever attended.

On Thursday April 6, 2006, when I was a freshman, Xtreme Youth took a few members of the youth group to Tom’s River, NJ for a Hillsongs United Concert. I had heard of Darlene Zschech before, but I had no idea what to expect from the concert. I wasn’t familiar with any of the music there, but by the end of the night I was a huge fan. (I wasn’t such a huge fan of not getting home until after midnight on a school night though.)

A day later, my family took our monthly trip to Alexandria, VA for my orthodontist appointment. This was an unusual trip. For the first time since our August 2004 move to New Jersey, we would be staying the weekend, and visiting our former churches. We stayed with my grandparents in Fairfax, and ventured out on Sunday to church services.

On Sunday April 9, 2006, I went to my first church: First Assembly of God in Alexandria. My closest friend from that church, Olivia, had not been attending on Sundays due to other commitments. However, she was there that one Sunday. I stayed for Sunday School, and the Sunday Service (I sat next to Olivia.)

That night, I went to a Senior High School small group with my first youth group at New Hope Church. I came as a surprise to everyone there, though I was only really hoping to see one friend: Jordan. After I moved, Jordan found my email (probably on the New Hope Youth Group email list that I was still on), and she started to send me emails. Of all the youth group members, she was the only one I managed to keep in touch with. (We still chat all the time.)

When I was living in Virginia, I was one of the quiet ones. I didn’t talk to people much at church. I became familiar with Pentecostal worship services and children’s retreats where you stood out like a sore thumb if you were quiet. I did not raise my hands in worship, and I didn’t jump and scream with others. I tried to keep to myself for the most part. I didn’t have many friends at church, simply because I was too shy and later a fear to become close to people was added into the equation. (Jordan and I didn’t really become friends until after I moved.)

At the Hillsong’s United Concert, I was one of the more vocal of my youth group. Though I did not raise my hands in worship (I still have a hard time with that), I found myself jumping and screaming while the band played. Most of the group sat or stood silently, much like I would have done in Virginia.

I often say that I hated Virginia, and I still dislike many aspects of it. However, now I see that I dislike a lot of my history there. On April 9, 2006, while at my grandparent’s house, I wrote:

“I miss living here in VA. There. I admit it. As much as I wanted to leave, now, I really miss it. I didn’t realize how much I missed Olivia and Jordan until I actually saw them earlier today. It’s not like I want to leave my friends from PHS and Abundant Life. I couldn’t imagine leaving Jersey, but sometimes I do want to move back. I want to go to New Hope on Sundays and Youth on Wednesdays at First Assembly. I want to be able to see Allie and Blair and Kate and Tom and Denaya and everyone at Minnie Howard more than the occasional “once in a blue moon.”

But if I go back, what about [these friends at school and church]? How could I just leave them?

Sometimes, I feel like I don’t belong at Abundant Life. Not like I belonged at New Hope at least. Even if I was a bit on the outside, I felt more of a person of importance than [in] NJ. Don’t get me wrong or anything. I love Xtreme. People are nice, but I don’t feel connected to anyone here really…

…Maybe there’s this closed circle. Most people at youth have grown up together. I don’t have that connection everyone else has….At New Hope and First Assembly, I felt like something-someone.

At church Sunday morning, I realized how much I really missed the hugging in the services. People don’t hug in Jersey. They just…don’t. That’s just it.*

And at the concert. I missed going with youth to events were we get wild and crazy for Jesus. I don’t feel that part of me anymore. I was the quiet one in VA. I didn’t clap or scream, or raise my hands. At the concert, I was one of the louder. My heart felt alive.

Guess it comes to show you that you really don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone.”

During that weekend, I spent some of my time on my grandfather’s computer doing research on a youth group my mom’s boss told her about. This group was at an Assemblies of God church, which is what I wanted, so I decided to go the next Friday youth was in session: April 21, 2006.

It was my first day at Velocity. I went off and on for a while (I also went to the Chinese Christian Church of NJ, but that’s a long ugly story that I’ll get into another time.) In September 2007, I started going to New Beginnings and in November my family started attended the Evangelical Fellowship Chapel of Parsippany (both of which are in the same building as Bethel Assembly.) When Velocity switched to Sunday “Velocity Reborn” meetings, I immediately fought to go.

I learned something that I didn’t realize back when I started going in April. It took a second youth group where I felt important, and a failed youth group search attempt for me to see that Velocity was the first New Jersey youth group where I felt like I was something important. Sure, I didn’t really remember any names during the times that I stopped going, but it was the first youth group where people asked me where I was if I missed a couple weeks. After over a year at Abundant Life, it seemed as if hardly anybody noticed that I had left with no notice. Velocity was different.

So, this April it will be two years since the day I first started going to Velocity. A lot has changed since then, and I don’t doubt that a lot will change in the future. Every day, I realize how much the people there mean to me. I realized recently that I could not live (literally) without some of the people at Velocity.

So, thanks to everyone…friends in Virginia, and non-friends in Jersey (I don’t talk to anyone at Abundant Life or half the people from school freshman year anymore.) Thanks Bethel for your lack of a youth group, and thanks CCCNJ for showing me that I really didn’t belong there. Most of all: thanks to everybody at Velocity. You have helped make this one of the most awesome (almost) two years.

Love,

Queen Lissa