Happy New Year!

As is evident by my lack of blog posts during the past couple of weeks, I enjoyed a wonderful but busy vacation in Houston. I had a great Christmas with my family, and I even managed to see a few of my friends while I was home. In the spirit of Texas, I also made it a priority to eat and shop as much as humanly possible.

I haven't forgotten my roots.

I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to 2009. I'll be honest and tell you that the 2008 dating scene left much to be desired. I even went against my better judgment and joined Match.com late last summer. My experience left me wondering if perhaps I should make preparations to purchase a muumuu and a cat. And a carton of Marlboro's. I fear they are in my future. However, I did enjoy the complicated, formulaic way in which "Match" chose the potential love of my life. After weeks of careful scrutiny, I decided that "smoking preference" was the determining factor in who would appear on my list of possible mates. Apparently, BigTaz...


and this gentleman who seems to have misplaced his bagpipes...


are both non-smokers.

So, it is with open arms that I welcome 2009 and the many opportunities that are yet to be discovered. I trust that the coming year is full of blessings and wonderful surprises!

Happy New Year!

Airplane Etiquette

I landed safely in Houston sometime around 11pm last night. Except for my mad dash to Denver International Airport during rush hour traffic, my trip was relatively uneventful. That is, unless you would have spent an hour or two in my head. Apparently, I have an unspoken set of rules for the person or persons sitting next to me on an airplane....and the guy seated next to me last night was completely unaware that these existed.

Listed among my set of ideal flying conditions is the rule that no one has permission to share my seat, and lifting the arm rest to acquire a little extra wiggle room is completely out of the question. If there is no room for your wiggle, then it might just be time to put down the complementary peanuts and hit the gym.

I am also a firm believer that any child under the age of 14 should travel with a healthy dose of Benadryl. Or a muzzle. Of course, this rule will more than likely change if I ever have children of my own. Until then, I prefer to pass judgement on others and pretend that my offspring will be perfect.

A new rule that I acquired just last night is that anyone with unusual eating habits should not sit next to me. I'll be honest here and tell you that one of my weaknesses is the inability to ignore bizarre restaurant behavior. Apparently, this carries over to airplanes. I had severe eyeball strain by the time we landed in Houston because of my efforts to discretely gawk at my neighbor's savage attack on a tuna sandwich and Fritos. I still haven't fully recovered.

Speaking of landing in Houston, I would like to point out that I'm pretty sure my face melted off about thirty miles north of town as a result of the humidity. I'm still not sure why I continue to pack moisturizer when I come home.

Truth be told, I am thrilled to be here. There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be than home for the holidays!

Believe Me

One year ago this past Tuesday, I was riding to church with my friend Kari. It had snowed the night before, but none of the roads in our area were plowed yet. Because it was early on a Sunday morning, very few people were out. Most of the snow was undisturbed from the night before, and I remember thinking that EVERYTHING was white. It was so beautiful and incredibly peaceful.

I'm pretty much a regular at the 11am service, but we went to the early service that morning. After church, my small group met for lunch. Then, I headed home. Seconds after I walked through the door, my phone began ringing...and ringing...and ringing. I think I might have ignored the first couple of calls because I was desperate for a nap. But the third or fourth call led me to think that something might be wrong. And it was.

While my small group was enjoying a leisurely lunch, an angry gunman had walked onto the campus of our church. By the time it was all said and done, Matthew Murray had taken the lives of two young girls and injured several others. Miraculously, he was taken down by one of our security guards before he ended his own life and before he could do further damage.

I'll never forget turning on my television and watching policeman with their guns drawn, ducking behind cars in the snow covered parking lot where I stood a short time earlier. And, I remember watching SWAT officers moving stealthily around the church I was sitting in...worshiping in just moments before. It was surreal. And dark...a stark contrast from the blanket of white that had greeted us that morning.

The weeks that followed were life changing for me for a number of reasons. At the time of the shooting, I had been without a job for a couple of months. It was a desperate and frustrating season. My faith felt weak, and I was struggling to believe that God was in control. Obviously, my situation paled in comparison to the grief endured by the families who had lost loved ones, but the Lord graciously used the Works family who lost two daughters on that tragic afternoon to teach me a valuable lesson.

It was a Sunday prayer and praise night about a month after the shooting. I happened to be sitting across the aisle from David and Marie Works and their youngest daughter. I remember watching them as they worshiped unashamedly and thinking to myself that God was so absolutely in control of their situation....that He was going to be glorified through this tragedy. I was confident of it. I was also sure that God had to be preparing our church for something very special. Not only had we endured the tragic events of December 9, New Life Church had also lost its founding pastor in a scandal that was broadcast on every national media outlet just 13 months before. It had been a difficult year. Yet, there was great hope and anticipation.

In that moment during worship, I believe the Lord spoke to my heart. I was convicted as He pointed out that I was willing to believe Him corporately, but that I was unwilling to trust Him personally. In other words, it was easy to believe that He was in control of the events facing my church family and the Works family, but I was struggling to see that He also had great purpose in the circumstances that were pressing down on me. It was another lesson in trust, and it brought me back to the verse God used when He first moved me to Colorado Springs.

"You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "and my servant whom I have chosen, so that you may know and BELIEVE ME and understand that I am he. Before me no god was formed, nor will there be one after me. Isaiah 43:10

"BELIEVE ME"...for a job, a purpose, finances, for a ministry, healing, a spouse, a hope, a future, for those times when you need to be rescued, encouraged, protected, loved. "BELIEVE ME" when the unthinkable happens, when life doesn't make sense, when you can't see a way out, when there seems to be no end in sight. "BELIEVE ME" to be in control of EVERY situation you encounter EVERY SINGLE MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.

God is FAITHFUL, and He WILL cause ALL things to work together for good. He is worthy to be trusted...even in the face of tragedy.

Rescue 911

**UPDATE**
For those who have inquired, my firemen might have been single. I'm not really sure. They were nice looking in a lovable uncle sort of way. I'm pretty confident that "posing for the 2009 Hot Firemen Calendar" wasn't on their list of to-do items that morning.

At 7:22 this morning, I was ripped from the clutches of a deep and peaceful sleep by the violent ovation of my fire alarm. Actually, all THREE of my fire alarms. My first thought was, "My neighbor's alarm clock is really loud today." My second thought was, "Did I drink a small ocean of water before I went to bed last night because I REALLY need to go to the bathroom?"

When I finally realized what was happening, my bladder and I frantically began searching my condo for any sign of a fire. After assessing the situation and confirming that I was in no sort of imminent danger, I made a quick dash to the little girl's room to take care of business...while still being serenaded by the reality that something was very wrong. Looking back, it saddens me to think of where I chose to spend what could have been my last few moments of life. I mean, really.

Even so...with all necessary agenda items completed, I quickly grabbed my cell phone and called 911. For all I knew, the condo above me was on fire and mine was next.

I ran upstairs to awaken my neighbor and to check the perimeter of the building all the while sporting the most hideous ensemble of clothing known to man. Because I'm a layers girl, I had thrown a William and Mary sweatshirt and chocolate brown winter coat over a treasured turquoise blue CFISD t-shirt that I received sometime before 1998. Of course, no outfit would have been complete without my grey Polk Panthers sweatpants, white athletic socks, and khaki Crocks. Oh...and my purse.

I continued the play by play with my 911 operator as I searched for any sign of a fire. I found nothing. After trying unsuccessfully to awaken my upstairs neighbor, I headed back into my condo only to find that the alarms had stopped...just as my doorbell rang.

I opened the door to find two of Colorado Springs Fire Department's finest...one carrying some sort of ax. I considered suggesting that he use it to destroy the three fire alarms that had wrestled me from a peaceful night of sleep but gave in to my better judgment.

I explained to them the situation, at which point they tried to convince me that I probably just needed to change the batteries in my alarms. To their credit, at that moment I DID look just stupid enough to have not considered that possibility.

Certain that he had correctly assessed the situation, the fireman with the ax climbed onto one of my chairs to change the battery in smoke detector number one. As he disconnected my fire alarm, he discovered a sizable amount of water standing in the cover....which he proceeded to dump onto my carpet. Apparently, a water leak had caused the system to short out, setting off all three alarms in a harmonious chorus.

Clearly, I was no longer the girl who didn't change the batteries in her smoke detectors, I was the concerned victim of a flood. Feeling somewhat validated, I squinted my eyes and nodded intently as the firemen began to debate the source of my leak. The conversation did not last long, however, and I was soon left alone in my leak ridden home considering whether or not I should contact FEMA. I didn't.

Sticks and Stones

In case I haven't mentioned it one or forty times, 6th graders tend to push me to the brink of a nervous breakdown most days. I mean everyday. I recently had this conversation:

6th Grade Girl: He called me the "B" word.
Me (to 6th Grade Boy): Did you call her the "B" word?
6th Grade Boy: No, I called her a Big Nose because she called me a Ping Pong Head.

Being the professional that I am, I immediately began scrolling through my mental library of appropriate and effective responses to ABSURD accusations and conversations. Unfortunately, I could only come up with "Go sit down, and please...just STOP TALKING."

Three's

Okay, I admit it. I have been known to be a tiny bit stubborn from time to time.

My parents LOVE to tell this story...

When I was probably three or four and learning to write my numbers and letters, I consistently wrote the number three backwards. My mom and dad tried tirelessly to convince me to change the direction of my three's but to no avail. We had many conversations that went something like this:

Mom/Dad: That's very nice, but your three is backwards
Tiffany: No it isn't. That's how I make my three's.
Mom/Dad: But, a three is supposed to face the other way.
Tiffany: Okay, but this is how I make MY three's.

End of conversation.

As one might imagine, my childhood (teen years, college years, post-college years...) proved to be quite a challenge because of my unwillingness to back down...from anyone or anything.

I would like to point out here that my strong will has, in fact, saved me from a few fashion disasters over the years...such as the skinny jean. I meant it when I said that I will NEVER wear skinny jeans. Quite frankly, I believe they are a fashion mistake for just about anyone. On the flip side, my strong will probably left me with extraordinarily large bangs a season or two past their prime...as I was convinced that they provided a "classic" look.

But I digress...

Fortunately, the Lord placed people in my life along the way who began to teach me to turn my strong will into a determination to follow Christ. My stubbornness was not a curse but a gift that was being misused. While I know this to be true, there are still moments where I find myself refusing to change the direction of my three's.

Case in point...

I am a teacher. And, most seasoned teachers know that when given a suggestion or task by an administrator, it is okay to smile and nod in agreement...and then do whatever you want to do. This has worked well for me over the years...until now. I now teach in a special program in our district where many eyes are watching my every move. I can no longer blend into the crowd and do my own thing. I must give up control and CONFORM even when I think MY way is better. This has been more difficult than I care to admit. It seems that lurking around every corner is another test of my willingness to surrender and to CHANGE.

Come to think of it, life in Colorado has been one giant confrontation with life not done MY way...the way people drive, communicate, educate, decorate, eat, think, dress, worship, spend money, prioritize, and on and on. While entirely frustrating at times, living here has been an opportunity for the Lord to stretch me in areas of my life where I have held on too tightly.

And He has.

SO MANY TIMES, I have wanted to pack my bags and move back to Houston...because that would be easier. And SO MANY TIMES, the Lord has convinced me that He wants me to trust HIS plan and to stay. Change is NEVER easy, especially for Yours Truly who likes CONTROL. But, I have found that a willingness to surrender only leads to greater peace, increased contentment, and a deeper trust in Jesus Christ.

And a correctly constructed number THREE.

Disclaimer...
By no means does this imply that I intend to end the discussion of my bizarre life in Colorado. I am willing to make changes, People, but I will not surrender my quest for an acceptable pedicure, a restaurant that stays open past 9, or a well manicured lawn. Or an appropriately sized pumpkin for that matter. Change is one thing, but complete disregard for sensible living practices simply crosses the line.

10-0!!

I just returned from a GREAT weekend in Lubbock where I got to cheer on my Red Raiders as they went 10-0 Saturday night! WRECK 'EM TECH!!! The town is CRAZY, and it was SO MUCH FUN to be a part of the excitement.

Because I recently had to purchase airline tickets for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, I decided a few weeks ago that DRIVING to Lubbock (after school on a Friday) seemed like an okay idea. Fortunately, I enjoy a little peace and quiet after school, so I managed to suffer through the 7 1/2 hour ordeal. My excitement about the game even led me to find a way to entertain myself for the trip's entirety. This included convincing those on the highway with me that I am an untapped musical talent who needed to practice a few numbers for my debut as Belle in Broadway's "Beauty and the Beast". I don't want to brag, but my performance was magical.

Probably the most invigorating part of the night was being pulled over for speeding. Fortunately, I was in West Texas and was pulled over by a county sheriff...who was apparently a Tech fan. I'm not sure why, but my voice went completely country as soon as I began to explain that I am not an out-of-stater...and that Texas is my home. Apparently, my talent extends beyond Broadway. Anyhow, when I shared with him that I was heading to the Tech game, he told me he would run my license and give me a warning so I could be on my way. I LOVE TEXAS!

I then made one quick pit stop at the Toot 'n Totum in Amarillo for gas and a Laffy Taffy before arriving into Lubbock just after midnight. It was quite a night...and quite a weekend!

Here are a few pics...

Tessa, Taleigh, me, and Morgan (one of my former students who was checking out the campus)



The SISTERS in front of the Tech seal. GUNS UP!!



Two good reasons NOT to go to OSU. Yes, her eyebrows are orange....because we might not have thought it was natural otherwise!



GAME TIME!!!



10-0!!!



And because it has been so long since my last post, here are a few of the "goings on" of Tiffany over the past couple of weeks...

One of our sweet friends from small group hosted a breakfast at her house before church. The view from the house was incredible...you could see the entire city. This is my friend Kari and me (and Kari's cousin's daughter).



Our Fall Festival was the night before the UT-Tech game. Someone (with really bad taste) chose burnt orange shirts for the volunteers. You REALLY can fix ANYTHING with duct tape, can't you?



Kari, Christy, Becky, and I all have birthdays in September and October, so we decided to celebrate with brunch at the Broadmoor. This was the morning after Tech beat UT, so....YES, I wore my Tech shirt to the Broadmoor!



In front of the lake at the Broadmoor


My BFF Sarah Palin came to see me the night before the election.


Unfortunately, the spotlight behind the stage ruined my pictures, but if you look really carefully...you can see Todd and Sarah...LOVE THEM!