Well, I have some interesting news. Today my sister came home from church beaming. My sister hasn't beamed in... Geez, forever. I don't remember the last time she beamed. "You look happy," I said in mild surprise.

"I am!" she said. "Sam's back."

"Sam who?" I asked densely. LOL.

"The old Sam, the happy Sam, the Sam who loves people and the Sam that loves Jesus!"

I stared at her, wondering what in the world had gone on for her in church today. She began to talk about some of it. She said she talked to the pastor at her church about how she'd been depressed for 7 months. She said how she sang today in church--really sang, and really "felt the Presence." She was beaming, I say, and I just stood there dumbly. I didn't know what to make of it.

She said it started two days ago when she took a bum home. "He was about 54 years old," she said, "and he was hailing a taxi, and I know you guys are like, 'Don't talk to those people, don't help them' and so I was caught in indecision for a while and then I prayed about it, and it was the first time I'd prayed in all these seven months, and I asked myself 'What would Jesus do?' and I knew right away what the right thing to do was. So I picked him up and took him home. He gave me three dollars for gas money, and you know what I did with it? I put it in tithe..."

Like I said, I was quite dumb in the face of all this talk. The little jibes about my family--our family--"Don't talk to those people, don't help them"? She doesn't understand. But I wanted to just listen (and then you really don't have a choice when talking to my sister :D ). I thought it was great that she was happy. The jibes hurt. Doubt interfered, just 'cause of Sam and the way she is: this could be a passing thing and this could be real. You never know with my sister. But I'll just wait and see, I guess.

I think one of the marked differences between Sam and I is that I'm a slow mover and she's a quick mover. I like to think first and she likes to act first. I'm also reserved and she's outgoing. So I was listening to her with an expressionless face, more or less--although she probably saw some of the doubt gnawing at my mind, about whether this beaming happiness was real or not. I think that's why she made those remarks about my family's reservations about helping bums. She doesn't understand that it's a safety thing, not a judgmental thing...or whatever she was thinking...'cause she's not concerned about safety. That's another difference between us. She doesn't know that I've often wished I wasn't a young, weak girl so I could be brave and help bums. She just doesn't know that, and 'cause of my usual reserved nature, she might never know.

Sam's athletic, and she's brave. At least she'd have a defense if she did pick up the wrong kind of guy. But me? If I picked the wrong guy (and it'd be sure I did) and he tried to kidnap or murder or rape me, I'd be so scared and uncertain of the whole world that I wouldn't know what to do. That's just the difference and Sam just doesn't know.

Anyway, if I blabber about this too long, it'll sound like I'm making excuses. So I'll tell you a little bit more about some of my inner thoughts, right around the time Sam came home.

I was listening to Steven Curtis Chapman. His newest (?) CD, All Things New. The songs on it have been really haunting me. In particular songs 4 and 5. Here you go:

Last Day Here On Earth

I pull over to the side of the road and I
Watch the cars pass me by
The headlights and the black limousines tell me
Someone is saying goodbye
I bow my head and I whisper a prayer
"Father, comfort the broken hearts"
And as I drive away there's a thought that I
I cannot escape
No, I cannot escape
This thought
I can't get away

Oh, if this should be my last day
On this earth
How then shall I live?
Oh, if this should be the last day
That I have
Before I breathe the air of heaven
Let me live and with abandon to
The only one that remains
After my last day
Here on earth
If this should be my last day here on earth
If this should be my last day here on earth
If this should be my last, last day here on earth

And if tomorrow comes to find me looking in the face of Jesus
Will I hear him say the words, "Well done"?

Oh, if this should be my last day
On this earth
How then shall I live?
Oh, if this should be the last day
That I have
Before I breathe the air of heaven
Let me live and with abandon
To the only one that remains
After my last day
Here on earth
If this should be my last day here on earth
If this should be my last day here on earth
If this should be my last, last day here on earth
"Cause this could be my last
This could be my last
This could be my last day

What Now?

I saw the face of Jesus
In a little orphan girl
She was standing in a corner
On the other side of the world
And I heard the voice of Jesus
Gently whisper to my heart
"Didn't you say you wanted to find me?
Well, here I am.
Here you are.

So what now?
What will you do, now that you've found me?
What now?
What will you do with this treasure you've found?
I know I may not look like what you expected
But if you'll remember, this is right where I said I would be
You found me.
What now?"

I saw the face of Jesus
Down on 16th Avenue
He was sleeping in an old car
While his mom went looking for food
And I heard the voice of Jesus
Gently whisper to my soul,
"Didn't you say you wanted to know me?
Well, here I am
And it's getting cold.

So what now?
What will you do, now that you've found me?
What now?
What will you do with this treasure you've found?
I know I may not look like what you expected
But if you'll remember, this is right where I said I would be
You found me.

So come and know me
Come and know, know me now
Come, come and know
Know me now

Come and know me
Come, come and know, know me now
Come, come and know
Know me now

What will you do, now that you've found me?
What now?
What will you do with this treasure you've found?
I know I may not look like what you expected
But if you'll remember, this is right where I said I would be
You found me.
What now?
What now?"

You know what it makes me think of? The refugees we visited. Man, do I wish I was there. I am certainly doing that next year. I miss those kids... Particularly the one little girl. She was so cute. I have a heart for girls, I know that. I ought to find something to do with that.

I considered volunteering at the Pregnancy Care Center in town. What's holding me back? Fear. I'm afraid of all the desperate situations I might face, for one thing. I'm also afraid of stepping out like that. That's a big thing to do. It's not like people won't approve; more likely they'll encourage it. I'm scared that people will question why I'm doing it, though. I mean, I'm me, I'm Stephanie, the girl who stays at home, doesn't go out much. I guess I'm afraid of leaving who I am, or who I've thought I am all these years. I don't know if that makes sense. I want to do it, though. I want to at least try it.

Back to the little girl. I wonder if there are orphaned girls her age in Somalia? She's only four.

My head's full of thoughts now and I can't cram anymore in... It's getting a little overwhelming. So I'm going to close this entry for now. Oh, I forgot to say: these are the things I was thinking about when Sam made her comments about "not helping those people." She just doesn't know what goes on in my head. I don't tell her. So I hope some day she knows...

-Stephanie