Italia: DAY ONE!!

I need to write this stuff down before I crash. I'm trying to stay up til bedtime to get my body clock in sync with the time here. Pardon the succinctness, my body thinks it's 11am and I've been up all night, even though the clocks say it's 6pm.

I was so so nervous to come here. A couple of my fears even came true, including how sick I got on the plane rides and how much pain my ears were in. But I'm so grateful for the amazing peace God granted me throughout the entire process, and I know for a fact that I would have turned around and gone home in frustration without Him. I wouldn't even say my traveling experiences were altogether negative, because even right now, so quickly after it happened, I can see how much it has taught me about myself and how I handle stress. God is growing me in His strength and He only continues to inspire me.

It's best to tell this story in pictures.

We had a SEVEN HOUR layover in Paris. We basically didn't move from this section and all the crazy, stylish European people gave us weird looks. We were all either deliriously laughing our pants off or trying to sleep on the hard floor because for us the layover occurred in the seven hours we would most likely be asleep were we at home.

Sleepin like babies.

First glimpse of Italian countryside!

Making our first trek up the hill to the villa. My calves and thighs are gonna be P90x-level by the time the summer's over.

Finally made it!

And then we had to leave the villa and be bused over to the Bible school cause the villa's being remodeled and they don't have our rooms ready yet. Pictures of our lovely room and my welcome rose coming tomorrow.

Table setting at my first authentic Italian meal!!

View from the villa patio. Let's be real; it's paradise here.

Villa's "backyard"

More view from our patio.

So really that was less of a story and more of a photo album with comments... but I'm dead tired and I have no creative energy (or energy of any sort) left in me. I promise more details later.

Love
Molly

Three a.m.

Someday I'll actually post valuable things. I promise.

Ancient Writings

I wrote this snippet as part of the beginning of one of the 134353 novels I tried to write. The plot is complicated, the characters are dumb, and the writing only gets worse, but I like this first part pretty well.
Also I really liked the font I wrote it in. So here it is. I had titled this little gem "Caroline."

Caroline sat in the darkened church and breathed, glad to be alive.  The barest light came from two candles which marked the foot of the altar.  The pew felt hard and lifeless beneath her thin dress, and the frigid wind found its way into every nick and crack and dent in the old building.  Caroline prayed that the candles would hold on to their flame as hard as she had tried to hold on to hers.  In her mind she bargained with the candles; she promised to keep the hope burning if only she could be spared from darkness.

  He was gone, that much was certain.  But Caroline couldn’t help but think perhaps there was something left in this world for her.  Heaven knows what it could be or how she would find it; at that moment Caroline was unsure of everything, including the origins of her next meal.  She had not thought she would be back where she started so soon after escaping.  She turned over, wishing for her pillow and a bit of whiskey, which always put her right to sleep.  Sleep, however, was elusive, and on the screen of her mind the scenes of the previous day played themselves over and over again with mind-numbing monotony.

“Phillip? Where are you?” Caroline touched the side of the hotel bed tenderly, her eyes groggy and her smile genuine.  She rolled over casually and listened for the shower.  No water running.  He was probably getting breakfast. Caroline hoped he wouldn’t splurge because he wanted to do something nice; the small amount of current money they had wouldn’t stretch far enough to include luxuries.  She sat up and looked around.  Tiny dust motes swirled in the frosty morning light.  Her eyes followed them around the room where she noted that none of Phillip’s clothing was strewn where it had so carelessly been flung the night before.  So he was gone to get breakfast.  The little monster hadn’t bothered to wake her up, even though he knew she would’ve liked to see the sights, especially in the light of morning. She pouted for a moment then sighed, picked up a towel from beside the bed and headed for the shower.  It was gloriously wet and hot and full of water.  Caroline thought her friends would die if they could see her taking a real shower with real water.

As she dressed the thoughts in her head swirled like cake batter under her mother’s old-fashioned electric beater, the memory of which made Caroline’s stomach grumble loudly. Phillip’s absence was not helping her mound of worries or her empty stomach; Caroline could feel an annoyance within her mounting, an annoyance she knew would grow to a flame of temper if given fuel, so she attempted to distract herself with the contemporary literature. 

Most of the magazines strewn artistically on the ornate coffee table were things Caroline had only seen pictures of; they were heavy and thick-looking, but each page was actually very thin, made of a colorful material that she thought might be called ‘paper’.  She made a note to ask Phillip when he returned.  With wonder, Caroline gazed at the images that displayed this century’s version of luxury.  She was sure now why no one liked to talk about these publications or any of the subject matter within them.  It was disgusting how much water was depicted being poured over some model’s prone body, or used to clean someone’s dishes, or flush a new-and-improved super absorbent tampon.  Suddenly Caroline was remorseful of the shower she’d just participated in.  She wished she could somehow put all that water back in the gadget it came out of. 

The contraption that Phillip had called a ‘telephone’ seemed as if it was looking at her with black and white plastic eyes and a soulless grin.  Caroline picked up the receiver, and tried to remember which buttons Phillip had used to talk to the concierge. There was no screen, and no labels on the buttons except each had a number.  ‘Eighth grade history. Think Caroline. How did they use the numbered buttons? This is ridiculous.  I can’t believe I’m this helpless.’ Where in the world is Phillip? He should be back by now. I should be at home right now.’

Can a leopard change her spots?

It's a new year. I think I'm supposed to make resolutions or something.

   This year I would like to concentrate on being more pure. In today's world innocence is often branded as ignorance, and those that cherish it looked upon with disdain. But God says we are to be like little children, and part of the beauty of a child is how pure and simple each little mind is. Uncorrupted you might say. We often talk about being dirty-minded and immature as if they are desirable qualities, marks of a cultured and knowledgeable young adult, and we so rarely see those off-color jokes for what they are. If we know it's not pure and blameless and praiseworthy, why do we even say it?

Easy question: It's hilarious. 

Why is it hilarious? To put it simply, I believe the devil likes to make sin and worldly things as enticing as possible. And what could be more lovely and joyful and fun than a laugh? He's really good at turning God's gifts into something they're not, and I, as much (or more) than anyone, am guilty of falling for his clever ploys.
   God didn't send His son to die for the sexually immoral so that we could toss around a careless pun about them here and there. He set us FREE from it; we should be running the opposite direction, and yet we flirt with sin so regularly that it has become commonplace (I would go as far as to say totally accepted) to do so.
   And it's not just the sexually-inclined jokes. It's the profanity we use and the impure thoughts we think and the explicit shows we watch. We are becoming more and more desensitized by the minute, and I feel like there's so little any one of us can do about it!

This is where God comes in, and my prayer for the new year.

   For those of you who have more self-control and purity than me: You are not a stick in the mud if you don't laugh at a "that's what she said" joke. You are not ignorant or slow if you don't immediately think of a male body part when someone says "member" or "stick" or "johnson."  You shouldn't be ashamed to ask someone not to use profanity around you. You have the right to treasure and cherish and truly own the purity God has given you, and if someone else doesn't respect that, then they're not worth your time.
  My prayer is that more of us can start to put a foot down in situations we know are inappropriate, and use the minds God gave us in a way He intended. I believe purity is a foundation for any other righteousness we can ever hope to have credited to us, and without it we are no more than hypocrites.

Guys, this is hard.

  It's not an overnight thing, and I'll be the first to admit that I KNOW I'm not going to be perfectly pure in my thoughts and actions this year. In practice, this means staying away from words that are profane or suggestive (even the "little" ones that probably won't do that much harm), keeping our movie and TV choices in check, watching where the mind wanders, and more than anything trying to remain conscious of the fact that we need to be constantly putting forth an effort to let positive and praiseworthy things flow from our lips. 

  This is such a huge thing to try and tackle. Part of my new year's prayer is that I will not be overwhelmed at the enormity of the problem, and give up when I start to feel hopeless.  I'm like a leopard who someday wants to be a snow white panther (not a snow leopard cause those still have spots. Do snow white panthers even exist? Not sure. Will get info and update later); there is no way I'm going to get rid of the spots on my own.

The only way to change these spots is to let God wash them.

I delete posts that are negative and hurtful.

And write new ones with a little less of a bad attitude.

Thoughts I'm thinking right now:
1. All I want to do is read my book and forget my responsibilities.
2. All I want to do is sleep.
3. If I look away long enough, will my problems disappear?
4. Heidi-Molly chats are therapeutic.

Dear God,

I know you didn't promise life would be easy, but really? 

I know you said you'd never leave me but its really hard to feel you right now.

I know you told me you'd never give me more than I can handle....but I think you have too much confidence in me.

I know I need an attitude adjustment, but tonight, and this week, and this month have just been really HARD, God. 

Too hard?

I don't think so. I'm still kickin, so obviously I can take a few more kicks. Just take it easy for a little while, would you?

I love you.

I can't wait to see you someday.

Molly

Magic

As I search for something fresh to say in the midst of all my overused Christian rhetoric and reasoning, I'm starting to wonder if the repetition of such sayings is what helps them stick.  God is good all the time, no matter how many times I upset Him and make stupid decisions and go back on my word and say mean things and forget about Him in my daily routine. But the more I say God is good all the time, the easier it is to remember when I'm going about my little bustling activity-filled day.  Each time I'm able to remember it, or even just think His name, the more ready I am to make a right decision, pick the positive, Godly choice over the one that's unwise. So I'm not discounting the cheesiness these days.
I've got the magic in me....thanks to Him who gives me strength.
Homework times.
Molly