HEY YOU GUYS!!! (goonies)
Keep posting! :) I just passed the website off to Daren so he can know what's up too!
And that's all.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
18 Metaphors Describing my Last Fair
*Please note that I am not at all attempting to make fun of students, but rather display in a playful manner my surprise at the unexpected rapidity with which my materials disappeared. (Which is why I have left the event anonymous.)
1. Little kids in the "Free" box at a garage sale.
2. A famished prisoner grateful to have some sort of nourishment without regard to what it is.
3. Hogs unearthing truffles.
4. Birds in a poppy seed field.
5. Amateur magicians unknowingly displaying an obvious disappearing item trick.
6. Supervised kleptomaniacs.
7. Reverse manna effect.
8. Puppies eating food simply because it fell off the table with no concern for the substance.
9. Bubble wrap in the hands of a popaholic.
10. Augustus in Wonka's Chocolate Factory.
11. Balloons dropped onto a bed of needles.
12. Firecrackers meet matches.
13. Sprinters in the racing blocks when the gun goes off.
14. Ammunition in a machine gun.
15. Popcorn popping.
16. Frogs dropped in boiling water.
17. Most girls inches away from a semi-large insect.
18. Chocolate in the hands of the Corban College Admissions Team.
1. Little kids in the "Free" box at a garage sale.
2. A famished prisoner grateful to have some sort of nourishment without regard to what it is.
3. Hogs unearthing truffles.
4. Birds in a poppy seed field.
5. Amateur magicians unknowingly displaying an obvious disappearing item trick.
6. Supervised kleptomaniacs.
7. Reverse manna effect.
8. Puppies eating food simply because it fell off the table with no concern for the substance.
9. Bubble wrap in the hands of a popaholic.
10. Augustus in Wonka's Chocolate Factory.
11. Balloons dropped onto a bed of needles.
12. Firecrackers meet matches.
13. Sprinters in the racing blocks when the gun goes off.
14. Ammunition in a machine gun.
15. Popcorn popping.
16. Frogs dropped in boiling water.
17. Most girls inches away from a semi-large insect.
18. Chocolate in the hands of the Corban College Admissions Team.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
FREEZING
Hi everyone! So, I just wanted to let you know that it is stinkin' freezing today in Schimmel. Courtney is so cold that her nose is running and I think my toes might fall off! I hope your fish are not ice cubes when you come back! Anita is happy down the hall with her little space heater...so smart! :) I hope you all are doing well and enjoying your travels. Miss you all!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
That "nice lady" on the phone...
As I frantically tried to schedule some last minute school visits for this week with the last hour and a half of office time left before everyone went home on Friday (unsuccessfully), I left few messages but called many numbers. However, I did receive a call in return. I answered, "This is Jared." And the response I received was, "Yes, you called me?"
Hmm...That's a strange response. So I briefly explained my purpose apologizing for not remembering which school this was. Well, the lady on the other end of the line told me that her cell number was actually listed on the internet as a school contact number and she had been receiving several calls like mine. She even received a call from someone in Hawaii, and I told her she should have asked for a free ticket!
She definitely sounded like one of those sweet, older southern grandmamas with lots of grandbabies and said something like, "Weell, you have a great day, baby. The Lo'd bless ya." An accidentally wonderful encounter.
Hmm...That's a strange response. So I briefly explained my purpose apologizing for not remembering which school this was. Well, the lady on the other end of the line told me that her cell number was actually listed on the internet as a school contact number and she had been receiving several calls like mine. She even received a call from someone in Hawaii, and I told her she should have asked for a free ticket!
She definitely sounded like one of those sweet, older southern grandmamas with lots of grandbabies and said something like, "Weell, you have a great day, baby. The Lo'd bless ya." An accidentally wonderful encounter.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Try not to be jealous...it's sinful.
Well, it has officially been the first week of my extended traveling season as a Corban Admissions Counselor. I have passed a Deer Peak Dr., a Corbin St., met a student named Corbin, and met someone who knew every admissions counselor from last year. Granted, it was Lindsey from George Fox, but still...It has been interesting nonetheless. Yes, it's long, but I think it might be worth it.
I hope not to make you envious (and therefore stumbling in sin) by this story, but I couldn't help share it. Picture Santa Barbara, CA on a perfectly clear day, a slight breeze cheerfully brushing your face. (See? I told you to try not to be jealous.) So many of the elegant, stucco-style Southern California homes, roofed with rustic, curved brick-shingles planted their faces toward the waning sun, as it melted into the vast sea. They rose and wound all the way up the palm-covered hills. Even the streets, named with some sophisticated Hawaiian bamboo font, were lined with the giant leaf-heads.
And tucked in between the buildings near the wharf was a quaint little hotel: Hotel State Street. Even the name evokes some element of regality, coupled with a small-business ambiance. You enter the front door under the little blue awning bearing its name and head up to the counter to check in. The elderly man, dressed finely in his suit and tie, only adds to the quaintness of this little spot. And behind him you see several old-fashioned mailboxes, one for each room. Above you someone has taken great pains to decorate the ceiling with dozens of wonderfully crafted Origami fowl and flowers.
You receive your room key and head down an antique little hall, decorated with floral pictures, a large golden vase on a small table, and even an aged bookcase stacked fashionably with matching books, likely with decades of age and use bound up in them. You can picture it, can't you?
Well, there's a fragrance too. It's a familiar smell. Some might liken it to family, others to memories of illness. Few can't put their finger on it immediately. It's that aroma of second-hand smoke, and it flooded my nostrils with life (or should I say death) the moment I stepped into the hall. Oh well. Upon arrival to my little room I found, gratefully enough, that I would be spared that evening from its stench as my room was non-smoking. Of course, that counter-balanced my realization of the room itself. A description will suffice, though I wish I had the capabilities of revealing my photos for you at this time. No worries though. I'll be bringing them home!
My room was probably about 7 x 10 feet, just enough room for the more slender of our race to walk past the bed and the sink, which nearly touched, to reach the window. And you would certainly want to reach the window because this was an inner, middle room of a corridor with no air conditioning. You could actually feel a slight temperature change from the hall to the room. My "nightstand," if you will call it that, (though it was really supposed to be a table and actually had a chair wedged in there) was flush with the wall and the lip of the table overhung the bed so that if I slept close enough to the edge I could smash my face by rolling over. Yes, there was enough room for my laptop though. Well, that is if I removed the full-sized lamp and approximatley 8 magazines and brochures that were on it first.
I did feel safe though, because if there was a fire I would not have had to suffer through the flames. I would have been taken instantly and without pain. Partially because the temperature in my room was only a few degrees cooler than a conflagration would have been and also because I would never have seen it coming, considering that the smoke alarm was removed and the helpless wires were left dangling uselessly from their bare portal in the wall.
What spare room there might have been was taken up by an entertainment case which held the TV and contained a few drawers. The closet was wide enough for me to walk into...sideways, and of course, no iron. So I "recycled, reduced, reused" my previous wardrobe for another day as it was the only thing I could wear that wasn't wrinkled from traveling in a crammed bag.
"But wait," you say. "You haven't mentioned the bathroom!" Ah, yes. Well, my friends, that's because my room did not contain a bathroom. Oh don't feel too bad. I had one to use at my leisure. Just down the hall in fact. Actually, I must say I was quite blessed because I was only a couple of doors away and the clerk at the front assured me that I probably wouldn't have trouble getting into the shower when I needed to because there weren't too many other guests there (I wonder why). And even if there were, I did have the option of heading back out to the lobby to drag my dragging body up the stairs in hopes of using that one if indeed it was available.
Yes, there's nothing quite like staying in Santa Barbara.
Oh, and I almost forgot! Toward the middle of my school visits that day I began to feel a little...not myself. I'm still not sure whether it was heat exhaustion, mild food poisoning, or a quick little flu bug, but I'm leaning toward one of the latter ones. It wasn't too bad though. I only had a fever in 90 degree weather, driving 2-3 hours on the freeway in Southern California.
Well, 2-3 hours in a good clean sweep, but the only good clean sweep that I was getting was from my digestive system. I had to stop a couple of different times to answer "the call of nature" as something wasn't settling right with me (which is why I leave food poisoning in as an option). I was grateful to get there for the college fair anyhow.
Then again, I did get there late, considering I had forgotten that particular map and the site was one of the most majestically (and mysteriously) located sites I have seen yet, nestled deep in the lush brush of sweet Santa Barbara. I was very glad to be there so I could sit down (after sitting for so many hours straight I was tired) and cool off. Well, what I mean is envision cooling off. There was about .1038 ounces of air circulation in the gym where we were located and, since I arrived late, I was nestled nicely in the back corner a safe distance from the doorway.
Yes, there's nothing quite like a trip to Santa Barbara.
Especially when it's dark after you leave a college fair and you get turned around trying to get off the precipice which you are perched on that has about seven different side road that all look like the main road. But I got to the luxurious Hotel State Street in under an hour which was great.
In all seriousness, though, I was so grateful to have the reminder and encouragement (thanks Sarah E.) that God would be my strength through it all. I found myself trying to thank Him through it all, bumbling here and there, and truly praying that He would be my strength. Too, my morning that day was incredible as I did my devotions at Starbucks. I walked in to see a group of about 8-10 men all sitting together with their Bibles opened. Wow! That truly cheered my heart. Not only that, but after they all left one of them returned and gave me a business card for his church with his phone number on it and told me to call if I needed prayer for anything.
It was truly a blessing to start the day off that way and then to learn even more to depend on God through frustrations, weaknesses, illness, and a wee bit of selfishness. How great is our God! May we all remember to let Him continue always to be our Strength. -Ps. 27
I hope not to make you envious (and therefore stumbling in sin) by this story, but I couldn't help share it. Picture Santa Barbara, CA on a perfectly clear day, a slight breeze cheerfully brushing your face. (See? I told you to try not to be jealous.) So many of the elegant, stucco-style Southern California homes, roofed with rustic, curved brick-shingles planted their faces toward the waning sun, as it melted into the vast sea. They rose and wound all the way up the palm-covered hills. Even the streets, named with some sophisticated Hawaiian bamboo font, were lined with the giant leaf-heads.
And tucked in between the buildings near the wharf was a quaint little hotel: Hotel State Street. Even the name evokes some element of regality, coupled with a small-business ambiance. You enter the front door under the little blue awning bearing its name and head up to the counter to check in. The elderly man, dressed finely in his suit and tie, only adds to the quaintness of this little spot. And behind him you see several old-fashioned mailboxes, one for each room. Above you someone has taken great pains to decorate the ceiling with dozens of wonderfully crafted Origami fowl and flowers.
You receive your room key and head down an antique little hall, decorated with floral pictures, a large golden vase on a small table, and even an aged bookcase stacked fashionably with matching books, likely with decades of age and use bound up in them. You can picture it, can't you?
Well, there's a fragrance too. It's a familiar smell. Some might liken it to family, others to memories of illness. Few can't put their finger on it immediately. It's that aroma of second-hand smoke, and it flooded my nostrils with life (or should I say death) the moment I stepped into the hall. Oh well. Upon arrival to my little room I found, gratefully enough, that I would be spared that evening from its stench as my room was non-smoking. Of course, that counter-balanced my realization of the room itself. A description will suffice, though I wish I had the capabilities of revealing my photos for you at this time. No worries though. I'll be bringing them home!
My room was probably about 7 x 10 feet, just enough room for the more slender of our race to walk past the bed and the sink, which nearly touched, to reach the window. And you would certainly want to reach the window because this was an inner, middle room of a corridor with no air conditioning. You could actually feel a slight temperature change from the hall to the room. My "nightstand," if you will call it that, (though it was really supposed to be a table and actually had a chair wedged in there) was flush with the wall and the lip of the table overhung the bed so that if I slept close enough to the edge I could smash my face by rolling over. Yes, there was enough room for my laptop though. Well, that is if I removed the full-sized lamp and approximatley 8 magazines and brochures that were on it first.
I did feel safe though, because if there was a fire I would not have had to suffer through the flames. I would have been taken instantly and without pain. Partially because the temperature in my room was only a few degrees cooler than a conflagration would have been and also because I would never have seen it coming, considering that the smoke alarm was removed and the helpless wires were left dangling uselessly from their bare portal in the wall.
What spare room there might have been was taken up by an entertainment case which held the TV and contained a few drawers. The closet was wide enough for me to walk into...sideways, and of course, no iron. So I "recycled, reduced, reused" my previous wardrobe for another day as it was the only thing I could wear that wasn't wrinkled from traveling in a crammed bag.
"But wait," you say. "You haven't mentioned the bathroom!" Ah, yes. Well, my friends, that's because my room did not contain a bathroom. Oh don't feel too bad. I had one to use at my leisure. Just down the hall in fact. Actually, I must say I was quite blessed because I was only a couple of doors away and the clerk at the front assured me that I probably wouldn't have trouble getting into the shower when I needed to because there weren't too many other guests there (I wonder why). And even if there were, I did have the option of heading back out to the lobby to drag my dragging body up the stairs in hopes of using that one if indeed it was available.
Yes, there's nothing quite like staying in Santa Barbara.
Oh, and I almost forgot! Toward the middle of my school visits that day I began to feel a little...not myself. I'm still not sure whether it was heat exhaustion, mild food poisoning, or a quick little flu bug, but I'm leaning toward one of the latter ones. It wasn't too bad though. I only had a fever in 90 degree weather, driving 2-3 hours on the freeway in Southern California.
Well, 2-3 hours in a good clean sweep, but the only good clean sweep that I was getting was from my digestive system. I had to stop a couple of different times to answer "the call of nature" as something wasn't settling right with me (which is why I leave food poisoning in as an option). I was grateful to get there for the college fair anyhow.
Then again, I did get there late, considering I had forgotten that particular map and the site was one of the most majestically (and mysteriously) located sites I have seen yet, nestled deep in the lush brush of sweet Santa Barbara. I was very glad to be there so I could sit down (after sitting for so many hours straight I was tired) and cool off. Well, what I mean is envision cooling off. There was about .1038 ounces of air circulation in the gym where we were located and, since I arrived late, I was nestled nicely in the back corner a safe distance from the doorway.
Yes, there's nothing quite like a trip to Santa Barbara.
Especially when it's dark after you leave a college fair and you get turned around trying to get off the precipice which you are perched on that has about seven different side road that all look like the main road. But I got to the luxurious Hotel State Street in under an hour which was great.
In all seriousness, though, I was so grateful to have the reminder and encouragement (thanks Sarah E.) that God would be my strength through it all. I found myself trying to thank Him through it all, bumbling here and there, and truly praying that He would be my strength. Too, my morning that day was incredible as I did my devotions at Starbucks. I walked in to see a group of about 8-10 men all sitting together with their Bibles opened. Wow! That truly cheered my heart. Not only that, but after they all left one of them returned and gave me a business card for his church with his phone number on it and told me to call if I needed prayer for anything.
It was truly a blessing to start the day off that way and then to learn even more to depend on God through frustrations, weaknesses, illness, and a wee bit of selfishness. How great is our God! May we all remember to let Him continue always to be our Strength. -Ps. 27
Thursday, October 2, 2008
please put your shoes back on.
Alaska.
Everything is bigger in Alaska. You've heard that righ? From the snowfall to the mountains, the cars people drive to the shopping carts they overflow with oversized pastries. I would like to add one unfortunate item to this list: body odor.
It all started as I settled into my spacious exit row seat- 15F. Now, I'd like to point out the simple fact that I have no one to blame for this seat but myself. I selected it from a chart online. Pushed the button and smiled as I accepted responsiblity for assisting others in case of an emergency.
Litle did I know that the emergency would be my own.
I settle into my seat. Adjust the belt tightly on my lap. Tuck the blanket it just so. Smile at my seatpartner and introduce myself. What luck we had- no one in our middle seat! What a great flight this will be! And then it hit me like a baseball to the eye.
WHAT was that smell?!
Like a mix of sweat, urine and molding meat- my nose flares and my eyes water almost instantly. It's coming from behind me... I resist the urge to turn around even though I'm in panic mode, frantic to unstrap myself from this cage of horror. Does no one else smell this?! (*Please note: while yes, I admit I do have a VERY sensitive nose, SOMEONE HAS TO FEEL MY PAIN ON THIS!) No one appears to be in the state of panic I'm in.
And then it happens. The coughing. I'm sorry... the HACKING. I duck in my seat aware that I am tall and my hair is vulnerable. A startled flight attendant reaches into her pocket for a tissue and hands it to the woman (yes, and you thought it would be a man, didn't you? SO DID I.) located directly behind me. Seconds later the hackng continues and the woman gets up and leaves. (Along with her the unfortunate smell which is how I figured out where the attack was coming from) Flight attendants huddle up and talk in hushed voices. When the woman returns they ask if she has a need for medical attention (MEDICAL ATTENTION?!). She says, "she says, no, I think I'll be Ok." Frantically I try and get a mental picture of the medical records I myself turned into Corban upon my entrance as a student - HAVE I has a TB shot? I do hope so. The poor woman's coughing subsides and the plane begins to back out of it's stall.
With the return of the woman, the smell has once again returned. Knowing I have several hours ahead of me I try and suck it up, breath through my mouth. This last for about 10 minutes until I hear a little "thud, thud" from behind me. Oh yes, the unmistakable sound of two shoes being kicked off and dropped onto the floor. Against ALL odds, the smell gets WORSE. So I subtly bring a hand up to my face, just slightly covering my nose. This is better. I can smell the airport soap on my hands. Not usually my favorite smell, but currently by best bet as all of my good smelling loction has been checked. I remain a prisinor to my hand for quite some time. And then, another aroma is added to the mix- human flatulants. My eyes water, and I'm close to tears for more reason than one.
Each time I remove my hand hoping that I have gotten used the smell, I have to force myself to not gag. I ordered a cup of coffee and made the man next to me assume I had lost my find as I proceded to use this cup as a remedy for the next hour, just holding it slightly under my nose, trying to make this movement look natural. When I was forced to turn my cup over to the well-meaning flight attendant, I reverted to my hand trick.
Now, I'm going to stop there. There's no happy ending to this story. It was a LONG flight to say the least. But as I was praying for various people and asking the Lord why His sense of humor so often involved my life, a passage of Scripture came to my mind. If I was cooler, I would have the passage for you (but my Bible isn't on me and I can't remember it). There's a chance it's in Corinthians somewhere. This passage talks about how we are the Aroma of Christ. We are either the aroma of life to those who are being saved or death to those who are perishing. So my prayer for myself last night was that God could use me as a pleasing aroma- one that can bring others to Him.
Maybe even the woman behind me. I have no idea who I'll run into in Alaska, but God knows. And there are no accidents. So my encouragaement to all of us weary travelers serving the Lord by sharing about Corban is that we'd keep it all in perspective. Remember what we're here for. Whether your travels leave in in WA, OR, AZ, NM, CA or Salem, Or, be a pleasing aroma.
Everything is bigger in Alaska. You've heard that righ? From the snowfall to the mountains, the cars people drive to the shopping carts they overflow with oversized pastries. I would like to add one unfortunate item to this list: body odor.
It all started as I settled into my spacious exit row seat- 15F. Now, I'd like to point out the simple fact that I have no one to blame for this seat but myself. I selected it from a chart online. Pushed the button and smiled as I accepted responsiblity for assisting others in case of an emergency.
Litle did I know that the emergency would be my own.
I settle into my seat. Adjust the belt tightly on my lap. Tuck the blanket it just so. Smile at my seatpartner and introduce myself. What luck we had- no one in our middle seat! What a great flight this will be! And then it hit me like a baseball to the eye.
WHAT was that smell?!
Like a mix of sweat, urine and molding meat- my nose flares and my eyes water almost instantly. It's coming from behind me... I resist the urge to turn around even though I'm in panic mode, frantic to unstrap myself from this cage of horror. Does no one else smell this?! (*Please note: while yes, I admit I do have a VERY sensitive nose, SOMEONE HAS TO FEEL MY PAIN ON THIS!) No one appears to be in the state of panic I'm in.
And then it happens. The coughing. I'm sorry... the HACKING. I duck in my seat aware that I am tall and my hair is vulnerable. A startled flight attendant reaches into her pocket for a tissue and hands it to the woman (yes, and you thought it would be a man, didn't you? SO DID I.) located directly behind me. Seconds later the hackng continues and the woman gets up and leaves. (Along with her the unfortunate smell which is how I figured out where the attack was coming from) Flight attendants huddle up and talk in hushed voices. When the woman returns they ask if she has a need for medical attention (MEDICAL ATTENTION?!). She says, "she says, no, I think I'll be Ok." Frantically I try and get a mental picture of the medical records I myself turned into Corban upon my entrance as a student - HAVE I has a TB shot? I do hope so. The poor woman's coughing subsides and the plane begins to back out of it's stall.
With the return of the woman, the smell has once again returned. Knowing I have several hours ahead of me I try and suck it up, breath through my mouth. This last for about 10 minutes until I hear a little "thud, thud" from behind me. Oh yes, the unmistakable sound of two shoes being kicked off and dropped onto the floor. Against ALL odds, the smell gets WORSE. So I subtly bring a hand up to my face, just slightly covering my nose. This is better. I can smell the airport soap on my hands. Not usually my favorite smell, but currently by best bet as all of my good smelling loction has been checked. I remain a prisinor to my hand for quite some time. And then, another aroma is added to the mix- human flatulants. My eyes water, and I'm close to tears for more reason than one.
Each time I remove my hand hoping that I have gotten used the smell, I have to force myself to not gag. I ordered a cup of coffee and made the man next to me assume I had lost my find as I proceded to use this cup as a remedy for the next hour, just holding it slightly under my nose, trying to make this movement look natural. When I was forced to turn my cup over to the well-meaning flight attendant, I reverted to my hand trick.
Now, I'm going to stop there. There's no happy ending to this story. It was a LONG flight to say the least. But as I was praying for various people and asking the Lord why His sense of humor so often involved my life, a passage of Scripture came to my mind. If I was cooler, I would have the passage for you (but my Bible isn't on me and I can't remember it). There's a chance it's in Corinthians somewhere. This passage talks about how we are the Aroma of Christ. We are either the aroma of life to those who are being saved or death to those who are perishing. So my prayer for myself last night was that God could use me as a pleasing aroma- one that can bring others to Him.
Maybe even the woman behind me. I have no idea who I'll run into in Alaska, but God knows. And there are no accidents. So my encouragaement to all of us weary travelers serving the Lord by sharing about Corban is that we'd keep it all in perspective. Remember what we're here for. Whether your travels leave in in WA, OR, AZ, NM, CA or Salem, Or, be a pleasing aroma.
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