Tuesday, December 28, 2010

An HP Sorta Christmas.

This is Toby K.'s first blog from her NEW computer! And it's nice. I can actually play songs on my itunes with no skipping. I can run multiple pages without freezing. I can move from one page to another without it taking 15-30 minutes to load (no lie). I am very excited about this. Now, I just don't know what to write about....that could be a problem. Well, I'll tell you about my Christmas---- I got a laptop; that's about all you need to know.

Just Kidding.

I had an amazing Christmas. I got home from work, spent the morning sleeping and then celebrated the suprisingly sunny Christmas afternoon with my Dad and Gramps. After I got home from that I had Christmas with my parents where we opened presents and ate an early dinner. Later in the evening we watched Toy Story 3, which was by far the best movie ever! I laughed and cried and then laughed some more. Mid way through my dad fell asleep snoring in his recliner and my mom started playing her DS- but me, I was completley captivated. I could hardly take my eyes off the screen despite interuption from the speradic bursts of snores that came from across the living room; but besides that, the movie had all my attention. After that, I slept for a few extra hours and then headed to work. That was my Christmas in a nutshell. It dosen't sound too fun compared to some of the Christmas stories I've heard the last couple of days, but I really did enjoy myself and plus---did I mention I got a laptop? Cause I did.

Just kidding again. But really I am quite excited about my functioning computer. This means that I will be more apt to actually write blogs; this should hopefully make you happy.

Anyways, I'll write more later with a few more Toby K. cliche's thrown in there somewhere.
Goodnight, farewell.
-Toby K.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

The Song.

I will bow my knee's at Jesus feet,
cause I saw salvation through his eyes,
I will sing his praise, hands upraised,
I've meet this Man, the God, born to die.

This man, this man, lived his whole life,
on a street, on a street, with his nations beside,
He marked the road with tears and blood,
that we may live, as the chosen ones.

Oh Jesus come, Jesus come, Jesus come, Jesus take us away,
We need you now, need you now, need you now, on this day,
For we have come, we have come, we have come, to worship around,
The son of God, in human form, where my Saviors is found

He wrapped evil in holy chains,
cast them down on the third day,
they thought they won, but he rose again,
the power in the blood left no power in the sin.

Oh Jesus come, Jesus come, Jesus take us away,
We need you now,  need you now, on this day,
We've fallen hard, fallen hard for a love,
That was sent, that was sent, with the son,

Clothed in glory, drapped in strength, he washes us in the waters of faith,
they threw their stones and cursed his name, at our God, Jesus.
They mocked his love, his holy words, but soon enough he will be heard,
Curtain torn, Earth tremebled, Our God risen.

He is Lord, he is Lord, Lord on high,
He is Lord, he is Lord, born to die
Born to die, Born to die, Adonai, Jesus Christ
Born to die, born to die, Adonai, Jesus Christ,
born to die, born to die, Jesus Christ.

-Toby K.

It's Sunday Afternoon and The Scent of Grace Is In The Air.

I want to be outside right now. Lying on the cool blades of green that surround my house. I wan't to stare into the sun shine, bat my lashes at it shyly. I wan't to whisper my secrets to the clouds. Shape flower peddles to the mold of my palm. Mix "I love you"'s with the wind.
These days have grown long. The moon seems to stand further and further out of the galaxy. The clouds have come to make home over the skies. I can but watch as winter unfolds over me. It's in these moments that I look out the open door of my heart, feel the cold breeze sweep past my toes as they inch closer to the edge, reach out my hands, fingers extended high, close my eyes- and jump. Take the flying leap towards a Summer in France, Spring time in Florence, pouring rain in St. Petersburg. Any where but here.

By the way, I wrote a song. I'll post it- in a few.
I'll be back later though. Till then stay beautiful fire lights. Stay strong pillars of faith. Stay there, don't leap, not until it pleases- Then run and leap and fly! Don't hold your breath for one moment of it. Take it all in; every bit of it. Expand your lungs quick, don't miss a second of your destiny. Remember, fire lights, burn on- burn on and and on and on.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Friday Mornings- What Else Should You Expect From A Tired Toby K.?

Recent Obsessions (you know, like the things that have really taken a liking to my mind's eye):
- But before you continue you must be fair warned, there are a lot of them and a lot of strangness added with them as well....so now you can't say I didn't warn you-

Clears throat.
One- The word billowy, especially when used to describe clouds.
Two- The shadows that rain drops and street lights make on your arms when driving.
Three- Water color paintings.
Four- Guys in Starbucks who look like the main character of my next novel.
Five- Tuesday Morning Coffee.
Six- Reading the first fourteen (or so) lines of a book and then losing interest.
Seven- The constant use of ellipsis and parentheses.
Eight- Walking while praying.
Nine- Pea Coats. Fancy Coats. Big Coats. Small Coats. Winter Coats. Coat Shopping...Basically anything that has to do with Coats.
Ten- Seashells.
Eleven- Hippies.
Twelve- Seeing a clock read 04:21 (my birthday).
Thirteen- Google.
Fourteen- Christmas Cards! I can't wait. I get them today, give them out on Sunday, get all the awesome compliments on Wednesday! Best part of the Christmas Season thus far.
Fifteen- Thinking about Disneyland; too much perhaps.
Sixteen- ...well I can't quite think of a sixteen right now...how about a seventeen?
Seventeen- Little kids.

So that's my obession list for Friday Morning- I know there's more, a tons more and who knows, I might add them later.
Ta-Ta for now.
Toby K.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Special Music.

Would you like to know my wish?  Lyrical Creativity.
I can not write songs for my life...well, now, maybe if my life truely depended on it I might be able to produce something semi-worthy of being called a song; but in real time, when my life is not dangling by the strings of smooth sounding stanza's- I suck. I wan't so bad to write a wonderful, powerful, illuminating song that will glorify Jesus and be something fruitful for the Kingdom of God...but no matter how hard I try or how much bursts of inspiration I get, I can not seem to produce anything slightly substantial. This frustrates me. I will keep practicing though. Reading and studying and writing ofcourse; I don't think there will ever be time when I cease to write or desire to write that is. Maybe I'm simply not meant to write songs, just like there are a lot of things I'm not meant to do, like.....milking a snake for example, that I don't see myself being meant to do, or walking the trapeze at a circus, or killing a spider with my bare hand, or drinking a blended cheeseburger....all these things, I think, are alright for me not to be meant to do- ever. So maybe writing songs is just one of those things.
So yes, here we have Toby K. the great long scripted blogger who talks about herself in third person and can infact not write songs. Big whoop Toby K., let's not have a cow over it- maybe a simple blog rant will be sufficent enough (or so atleast I hope).
-Toby K.

(P.S. Thank you to all my blog followers. When I write these blogs I never picture people actually reading them, but I know my little post title and few first sentences always appears in the little boxes at the bottom of your screen everytime I push Publish Post, and since you all have taken it upon yourself to push Follow, I can only presume that you gander on over to my little star in this blog univerese and actually scan your eyes through the words I write and I, my blog followers, appreciate you, so very very much and I just wanted you to know that.)

Thursday, December 9, 2010

If A Blog Be A Blog, Then Let Them Be Blogs Indeed.

So about yesturday morning.....It's nearly impossible to put it all in one blog, fore frankly, it was crazy. There is slight possibility that due to exhaustion therefore lack of oxygen to my brain I might of had an experience equivalent to that of being high- I told you, it was bad. I was so looney and so very not myself. When I got home my first intention was to blog because my writing inspiration was (from how I was thinking at the time) the most phenominal collection of words that I've had in my head for a long time; but my computer is notorious for running extremely slow and since my attention span was that of a nat I went for the conventional paper and pencil...and this is what I wrote:
(Now keep in mind this was just a summary of what I wanted to write about so that when it came time for me to write it, it would be there incase my memory had forgotten it, but this does give a very good repersentation of what my thought processes were truely about.)

There were paper horses and flowy ribbons, grand balls and sunrises- don't forget those, they are the most important of them all. There was also a three legged dog and a valiant prince that helped me pass through the fog infested water crossing, where the water was even with the ground and the roads were so black one could not be sure if they were truely treading on ground or river! The rainbow comes later and before then...well I know there has to be more. Oh! Ofcourse. Jays trip to college, his unhomely dorm, his fifth floor friends.
And then there's Ms. Mary and her precocious preacher, who, when saw her typing said, "If my father saw you doing that he'd say you were the anit-christ"; and then ofcourse there's the boy from the city who says "Ofcourse a country girl can run".

...and that's it. I fell asleep on my journal and woke up pencil still in hand as if the next line was on the tip of my tongue gearing up to come out.Too bad it never did, I could of added more to my non-sensical piece of literature. Well, farewell for now. I'm off to bed after a long nights work.
-Toby K.

Friday, December 3, 2010

A (short) Morning With Toby K.

It's cold in my room. Even hidden beneath three blankets and two pillows I'm shivering. Before this page loaded and I began typing I was snuggling close to my little laptop trying to steal it's warmth...yeah, that's how desperate I am for just the slightest bit of heat. I just got home, literally less than ten minutes ago, from a long night at work. The other evening I had a breakdown about work in the middle of my living room while in an (yet another) intense argument with my Father. This job kind of- well more than kind of sucks. So yet again I'm out looking and praying, mainly praying at this point since I haven't quite had a day off to look, for a different job. It will come, I know it will. I just need to hold myself together a little while longer and I'll be fine.
Goodness. It is still so cold!
But I need to start blogging more since I've gotten into a habbit of only blogging on Friday's...hopefully that will be changing soon and I can get back into my Monday, Wednesday, Friday routine. Well, that's all for now.
Toby K.

Monday, November 22, 2010

A Sunday Service with Pastor Mitchell

At our most recent service Larry O'Halloran preached a sermon that marched all over the subject what I had been just recently going through. It knocked on my hearts door begging for a place to come in and make home. I talked to Jaime after and she said, "Defentley a sermon for what you're dealing with, yeah?", I chuckled and nodded. The most powerful part of the sermon though, for me atleast, was his altarcall. Sitting on the floor with my legs crossed and head bowed, I heard him call David Duran up to the stage. David grabbed his guitar and we began to sing. I closed my eyes and clapped my hands and thought of a time long before mine when our church had first began. A time when long haired hippies flooded our buildings, when worship services were conducted with the audience sitting on the ground, the time Pastor Mitchell began to lead a people towards salvation-
"You will make it past this trial", Larry broke in.
Pastor Mitchell began fighting an endless lonesome war that has carried him through over fourty years of ministry.
"This time of struggle will not last".
Pastor Mitchell has watched as the world has slowly been over taken by the Son, drenched in the blood, called the redeemed.
"You will be made strong".
Our fellowship has been hit by the devil from so many different directions, yet still we fight. His blows have wounded us lessening our numbers, yet still we've marched on. His words have led so many of us astray, yet still our prayers have the power to call them back. We are warriors, strong, mighty, sons and daughters of the most high King, led into battle by the only commander bold enough to die for the ones who love and the ones who despise him. 
David strung the last cord and I looked up at a church on their knees, hands lifted high, lungs full. The peace of God had made a visitation.
-Toby K.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

I Want To Be A Soldier For God.

I can't sleep. I've been up all night tossing and turning, playing music, sitting on the floor starring at the shadows on the walls, I've been stretching my legs and then laying as still as possible, eyes stapled shut trying to force myself into sleep. No use. So I decided to blog.
I've been thinking a lot latley. Struggling a lot too. This morning I finally broke down. I got home after work sometime around 6:30am and called my best friend; with her "hello" came a flood of tears. The devil has been relentless latley. I'm in a constant mind battle. His tactics, oh, they make me so mad! His cruelness and hatred is sometimes so overwhelming. I've been the product of major self condemnation.
Within the last few weeks I've literally hated myself at a constant. Everything about me. Me as a human, as a Christian, as a woman, as a me...I've hated it all inside and out. And that's not God. I read through my last post and I can hear the desperation in my voice. To have God close by again. To remember what is feels like to know who and what my Savior is because for so long I've been away from him. I pray and read and pray and pray and pray...but nothing. I was so scared, so very scared that I no longer knew my God, the one I want to be the closest to, the one I love with all my heart and soul; that I had some how fallen away through the struggles of past distractions and satan's blows.
I hadn't though Tate reminded me. "The devil can not get in between you and God, there's nothing for him to get in between of", she said with so much sureness. A sureness that I had some how lost along the way.
I tried fighting this battle all on my own. Casting down the devil, binding him in the most Holy of chains, but so often my doubt got the better of me handing the lock and key back over to my enemy. Oh, the devil! He is so stupid! And pompous! Ignorant! Ridiclous! Absolutley irratating!! I can't wait to see him burn, to fall off his high horse, land at the feet of Jesus and tremble in fear.  
The audicity of him to dare take me away from my God, to take me away from my destiny, the absolute absurdity of him. He makes me so frustrated sometimes.
But we will get the victory and that is what keeps me going, and I am going, all the way to the end of it all and more. I'm stronger than the devils smoke and mirrors. I'm greater than his lies. I am a child of God, a Princess in his sight, a mighty warrior, a redeemed.

Tonight at the concert, Untold Stories did a song called Who Am I Living For by Katy Perry that I had never heard. I went home and listened to the actual song, and it's crazy the power that this song has. It explains it all. The fight of the Christian. The battle of the Chosen. The tug on the heart strings of the Called. I've posted some of the lyrics below and I encourage you to take a listen to the actual song.

I can feel a phoenix inside of me
As I march alone to a different beat
Slowly swallowing down my fear, yeah yeah

I am ready for the road less traveled
Suiting up for my crowning battle
This test is my own cross too bare
But I will get there

It’s never easy to be chosen, never easy to be called
Standing on the frontline when the bomb starts to fall
I can see the heavens but I still hear the flames
Calling out my name

I can see the writing on the wall
I can’t ignore this war
At the eh-end of it all
Who am I living for?

I can feel this lightness inside of me
Growing fast into a bolt of lightning
I know one spark will shock the world, yeah yeah

So I pray for a favour like Esther
I need your strength to handle the pressure
I know there will be sacrifice
But that’s the price

It’s never easy to be chosen, never easy to be called
Standing on the frontline when the bomb starts to fall
I can see the heavens but I still hear the flames
Calling out my name

I can see the writing on the wall
I can’t ignore this war
At the eh-end of it all
Who am I living for?

-Toby K.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

In His Presence I Fall To My Knee's.

Life is good. Tough but good. I'm just trying to make it through the days and weeks. Work is taking it's toll on my body and soul. My emotions are clinging to the side of a cliff, hanging on for dear life. My focus is purley on serving God. I don't have time for distractions right now. I still have my friendships and my life is still active but there are a lot of things that I've had to push aside inorder to let God have as much room as possible, and there will always be more room that can be made for him. I wan't to give so much of myself to him. To follow him in his shadows, touch the hem of his garments, close my eyes and ears and still know he's beside me. I want to dive head first into all his righteousness. Breathe in deep lung fulls, holding the fresh clear water as long as I can then letting out a Heavenly language of Praise. Swim in his ribbons of teal moire. Touch the glassy bottom, resting my palm on the cool surface. I love knowing he's around me, even in his silence I listen for his echo.
.....I cry out, "I love you", and wonder if he hears me. Wonder if he approves of me. Wonder what he thinks of me. Wonder and wait, pray and listen.
-Toby K.

Friday, November 12, 2010

In The Library It's Quiet At Work

I am so busy all the time, and when I'm not busy, I'm sleeping...all the time. Literally, I work (10pm-6am), come home, sleep till 3(ish) in the afternoon, lay around and maybe eat, clean, finish things I haven't done, take a shower, and then do it over again all week long. But don't forget to throw in Tuesday 9:30am coffee with the woman, Tuesday 7:00pm Skit Practice, Friday 7:30pm Bible Study, Saturday 11:00am outreach, Saturday night concert scene, the ofcourse Sunday and Wednesday Church...Then there's random friend visits, errands, and an entire life of need-to's. I'm not the most busy person in he world, but it feels like that sometimes, especially around 4pm, at that point I'm always really tired and out of it.
It's currently 4:52am and I'm at work...not doing much, and getting paid to do it. That's kind of nice.
I am sorry that I have missed an entire week of blogging, I will defentley be back on it with (hopefully) more fun and exciting stories of the Toby K. way of life. Toby K. just needs to get bac in the Toby K. groove.
-Toby K.

Monday, November 1, 2010

NaNoWriMo Day 1

NaNo's Word Count Goal/ Qualification Mark- 1667 words a day.
Kaylee's Day One Word Count- 2050.

Started work last night, slept till 3:00pm. Almost forgot to write a blog because I forgot it was Monday.

Novel Secret Revealed:
Title- Praise Adonai

I hope to write more later this week, but for now I'm pressed for time. Please excuse this uncharacteristically short blog.
-Toby K.

Friday, October 29, 2010

Most Hectic Blog Friday Ever!

It's blog Friday and my Firday is jammed packed so I doubt I will have any other time than this to write a blog and I officially have 6 minutes! Gah!
Recent News:
-I have a new job, start Sunday night after evening service.
-Gave my two weeks notice to my boss yesturday and I'm dieing to be done with the place; but I am going to use one of Sophies daily blog idea's (not sure which one yet) to make little parting gifts for all my co-workers.
-NaNoWriMo starts Monday and I officially have an idea and title for my book; only my dad and Jessica (McMillan) know what it is...but no worries it's defentley Christian :] ...and you will probably find out sooner than later no doubt.
-Tonight is the annual Rust Halloween Party!
-And finally, I think I got an unofficial/official word earlier this week. Randal came up to me as I'm walking into the church for the usual mornig prayer and said when he saw me this came to his mind, and he said "God will give you the desires of your heart as you serve him". So immediatley I went into prayer and prayed for a pony...just kidding. But I did rush into prayer and asked God what does he want me to have on my heart? And I asked him to please keep the desires of my heart in the will of God...It was a lot though and I'm still praying about it just because I don't know what to think.
Anyways, my time is up, see you on Monday!
-Toby K.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

4 days, 12 hours, 18 minutes, 16 seconds, 15, 14, 13...

My day plans have changed. Originally I was supposed to go into train for my new job here in town at Brookdale (a care center behind the Ruby Tuesday's area), but being that I would be the only one there to train they said that I can finish that part of my training later. I'm officially starting this Sunday night. I'm nervous, the reason: it's graveyard...10pm-6am...full-time. I'm going to go a little crazy but it will be beneficial in the long run. No missed services, concerts or practices. When Conference comes, I'll be able to actually go to all the services. It will take a little getting used to, but I'll make it work. So getting back on track, the day instead of being away training, I'll be home, my focus entirely on the prepartions for NaNoWriMo. I'm in my room, sitting with blankets covering me. Scattered over my bed are various journals, pens, pencils, markers, notecards, bookmarks, papers, one fully charged Ipod, and Charlotte (my dictionary...I'll tell her story later). Today I'll be tossing around idea's, plotting character and setting charts, begin research, and start clearing space off my computer so that it will be able to hold my 175 page novel. I will probably clean my room as well, seeing as when November 1st comes, it will cease to be any prioity of mine. I have clothes hanging over the drawers of my open dresser, hanging over my bed, nightstand, and desk as well, there's sneakers and hairties, lotions and towels, concert flyers and computer cords, bracelets, necklaces, scarfs, folders, pillows, and aprons all strewn throughout. The sheets to my bed are untucked and stuffed in one bundled corner of the bed. My writing tools don't help the situation, finding homes in every nook and cranny between my bed and the door. Today will defentley be dedicated to that, and tomorrow as well. Once Friday comes I won't have much time to prepare between work and the giant "Rock Opera" that were putting on this Saturday...a "Rock Opera" which we've had less than a week to plan and build and write and cast and then ofcourse perform...but I, being the nice compliant skit team member, will simply learn my lines and watch this entire operation quickly fall into place. 
---Sorry for the rant.
I am really excited for November. The leaves are turning and my fingers burn with anxious anticipation.
-Toby K.

                                              View of my bed...

Monday, October 25, 2010

NaNoWriMo (na' noe- rye-moe)

The anticipation is killing me. I'm running and typing like a mad man trying to prepare for this upcoming month...but I bet you're wondering what NaNoWriMo is, aren't you? Well it's short for National Novel Writing Month, and it is the month in which novelist, from every neck of the woods, come together and dedicate themselves to a project all about writing. And when I say "all about writing", I mean ALL ABOUT WRITING. All those participating will set out to write a novel, a 50,000 word novel---in a month. So yes, I'm declaring that I, Toby K., will dedicate myself to this endeavor and write a 50,000 word novel. I'm quite terrified. It is basically impossible to write a good novel in less then a year let alone less than a month, but no one ever said it had to be good; and I'm not writing it to in some way create a best seller, I'm writing it because if I can write this, then I can write anything. This will give me first hand experience at the stress and pressure that comes with life as a writer and I'm so excited just to do it. To take that leap...that giant pain stankingly long leap off this jagged literary cliff. It will be fun. I'm going to be ripping out my hair and my nails will be bitten to the knuckle but it will be fun.
So I'm asking you, dedicated Toby K. followers, to keep me on track. Be the thing hanging over my head when it comes to me wanting to give up...because I will want to.
My Monday, Wednesday, Friday blogs (through November) probably won't be in real Toby K. fashion since all creative energy will be focused towards NaNoWriMo, but they will defentley keep you updated on my progress and word count; and you never know, if I happen to love a snipet from my novel (whoa...take it in...My Novel! Ha, that's exciting!) you guys could be the first ones to read it. I don't plan on doing anything with the finished product unless I do fall head over heels for it, I'm just hoping this will get my wheels turning for furture products.
Be praying for me and my nimble fingers; we will defentley be needing it.
-Toby K.

(Updates: I was looking through other blogs a few days ago and realized how ugly my blog must seem- stark white, black writing, pumpkin trim and navy blue finish. Ew. So I'm working right now to create an actual layout that is more fitting to my blog, because I can only pray that my writings are not as bland as my background. I'm hoping my writings are atleast a tad interesting and if so they deserve an interesting back drop...so be on the look out for a new up and coming design.)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Night Out On The Town

Oh la la, a suprise Saturday blog. I wouldn't often be blogging on a Saturday afternoon but if I don't now, I'll forget about all the fun I had last night and you would be missing out on some good ole' fashion Toby K. memories.
It all started yesturday after a series of random text messages between me and Joey (Joe Gash, for those of you who know multiple Josephs). The plan was a haunted corn maze, exciting right? Arriving at Joey's after a round about drive to the church and back, Marcos, Septembre, Joey, and myself all climbed into Joey's Big Red Truck and set off towards...well I don't know, but it was far off in the country thats for sure.
Oh! But lets not get ahead of ourselves. You must know that my Friday night's are never eventful...and I mean never. I work Friday nights till about 8:30 sometimes 9 and at that point everyone is already out having fun and exploring the wonders of Oregon, so I usually end up spending those nights home alone starring at the wall. So last night by the grace of God and the awesome amount of fervent prayer, my manager let me off early- for the first time in forever! It was outstanding.

Now we can back to the story---
Not after too long we began to pull into the driveway of this haunted corn maze and something seemed a little off...all the corn was cut down.
I couldn't stop laughing as we drove back towards the main roads. Silly Joey never thought to call and check to see if they were still in the corn haunting business, and they weren't. So after much deliberation we decided on Salem. We hit Taco Bell, caused a ruckus and then met up with Greg (Eckhart) at a very mysterious looking place called "WonderLand"...Aside from the strange title and unfortunate entrance it turned out to be a lot of fun. It was a small room filled with Arcade games. I don't know how much the boys enjoyed themselves but I do know that me and Septembre went to town. We worked up some much energy shooting evil robots in a "wanna be" Star Trek game and then fought to the death in a very intense game of air-hockey; okay, it was more like 6 games, but you get the picture. Around 11:30 my attention span was shot and my tired body became slugish. I stood by as Joey and Greg got a chance to catch up in conversation and then finally we made our way back to the Big Red Truck. I got my last few bursts of energy out by laughing at my darling Septembre and then curled up humming to the sounds of the radio.
Finally arriving at Joeys, I yawned myself the two blocks back home and then crashed. Literally. I even slept through all three of my alarms.
Aside from the major exhaustion of this morning I had an absolute blast. I laughed so hard that I almost peed myself, and me and Septembre were able to have a much needed girls night---even with the guys there.
-Toby K.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Gasping At Dry Land

A man walks, tugging his tie, loosening buttons, messing his hair, and pulling minature telephones from his ears. He shuffles his feet, avoiding cracks and wads of wet gum. He follows the yellow signs, looking at their letters and arrows but too familar his eyes only wander. A baby crys next to him on the E Train and he can't help but scowl. In two stops his foot is stepped on by the man with graffiti on his arm. After the third, the screaming baby is finally carried past the yellow sliding doors. The man sighs, wipes his hand over his tie, and stares at his scuffed shoe...

...and then I go blank. For some reason this blog Friday has left me like a fish out of water; my gulping mouth opens and shuts as if I could somehow swallow the words I wish to say. I write a sentence, delete a sentence, think a phrase, shun a phrare, even type out an entire stanza only to erase it three seconds later. Maybe after work today I'll come home, wipe the sweat from my brow and let my fingers do the talking as I dunk my head in a bucket of wet inspiration.
-Toby K.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Thus Saith the Lord

So this week we are in Revival; can I hear an "Amen"?
This revival is with none other than Steve Bohman. Oh! that man is a riot, he has me and Septembre falling over onto one another and has the rest of the church turning heads towards our little foxhole seats in the corner. This man...he is so filled with God that you can't but feel the Holy dripping like water from his prayers. I stand during song service, clapping hands, swaying back and forth, and just watch him praise God up on the platform. He smiles as he sings, hums when he dosen't know the words, and I can see his lips tremble ferociously as he worships in tongues. His sermons send us running to the altar with conviction and revelation. His words stick to my ears, whispering themselves back to me even days later. He's shorter than he looks and as skinny as post. He sooty hair is balding on top and his eyes are dark and rooted. When he makes eye contact, you feel like holding your hands over your soul because you're positive that he's reading right through it. At the end of service the room gets tense as he walks slowly down the aisles passing out Words like parking tickets. It's only after he walks past and begins to talk to the person behind me that I finally exhale a breath; but then he's off again, scanning rows for familiar faces, and again I clench my hands over the maroon felt in front of me. Then finally he walks onto the platform and asks for Pastor to come as we praise God, and believe you me I do- for the fact that I didn't get a Word.
Jaime, my dearest Jaime Joe, tells me every revival, "I'm praying that you get a Word".
"Oh thats funny," I say, "cause I've been praying not to get one", smirking.
"Don't do that! You're completley counteracting my prayers!", she rants and all I can do is laugh.
Oh the idea of words just frightens me. I know they're not scary (maybe nerve racking), but not harmful. That they're only meant for the positive and not to embarress. That they can really help someone, giving direction or understanding, guidance and even just simple support. But I also know that a Word...is directly from God...and that scares me. The idea that the Almighty God, the Risen King, the one who Reigns over Heaven and the Earth, the Redeemer, the King of all Kings and the Lord of all Lords, would look at me, this lowly human, and speak to me personally, is enough to send me falling to my knees.
And then I think about all the people who have recieved words and have back sliden...oh the numbers are many. I don't understand it. God spoke to them! Directly to them! And they turned away...That breaks me heart. Just thinking about their conviction, their condemnation, their pain and suffering and lonliness and it all, makes me only hold tighter to the robes trailing the Lord. He's loving, so loving...loving enough to not give me a word (insert grin).

-Toby K.

(Oh and I'm thinking about having themed days for my blogs seeing as I actually have a schedule now but I'm still in the processing of theme-ing them up. Thanks for being patient).

Monday, October 18, 2010

My Best Friend

I know I just posted a blog...like two seconds ago, but I wanted to share this with you guys without leaving my other blog with a run-on affect. Anyways, I've gotten into the habbit of laying down to bed and falling asleep to my ipod playing, and the other night a song came on that had my heart aching with saddness for the absence of my best friend. She's a thousand miles away and it kills to not have her with me. So ofcourse, being the Toby K. that I am, I set out to write her something, and I did. I layed in the dark with my phone and dictionary under my covers and typed her up an infamous Toby K. piece of work. The next day, after reading my email she called me in tears, all because of my little two paragraph shpeel. I love that. Not that she was crying...well kind of...but because I am able to impact her so much with just the words I say. I love that, I really do.

So I've copy and pasted the email below, and I hope that you too have a best friend you can feel this way about.

To Tate-
I've layed down in bed. Wrapped myself tightly in colored covers and tangled my feet between my matress and my sheets. I lay here quiet. Quiet and still. The stars lay with me, playing at my fingertips; they stay quiet too. And I begin to remember. Remember this person I once knew and now love. This person who also lays quiet with stars slumbered close to her. This person who has made a home in the middle of my heart. This person who makes friends with the darkest oceans and farthest moons. This person who kicks up her feet in the sweet cream of the milky way. This person who recieves warmly the kisses from the thorns of roses and leaves unscratched. This person I once knew and now love.
This person will always and forever be you, my darling. Be you my confidant. Be you my support. Be you my most sought companion. I love and miss you more than the world; the moon, the stars, and the galaxy's them all, for you are more valuable my love, more valuable then you know.
-Your Best Friend.


Heres some pictures of Me and Tate during her last visit here when she came for Spring Break

-Toby K.

Scatter Brained, Can You Tell?

So I often visit blogger. Read blogs, search blogs, admire blog designs, read more blogs that were referenced in other blogs, looks at blogs with pictures, look at blogs with cakes, look at blogs with crafts, and drawings and funny stories about their dog named Pete, ect. And it came to my attention that I haven't written in a blog in an almost 3 weeks...wow. Really...wow. So while thinking of that and reading some more blogs I've decided that I am going to write a blog three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. You are all welcome to hold me to that, all wonderful four of you (insert smiley face here).

So now that we've covered that, I'm going to actually blog....so a while ago I mentioned two tales. I've told one and have forgotten most of the major details of the other...oops. The major jist of it all was that I made yummy apple cider at the Rust farm. I helped cut the apples, leaving my hands cut and bruised and sore, and then helped strain and seperate the juice. The rest was left to the wonderful Melissa who cooked up a pot or two of the deliciously infectious nector of absolute bliss. The boys did most of the hard work though crushing and juicing the apples. Non the less, it was fun. Afterwards we all gathered in the living room and I played with Little Miss Cora and chatted simultaneously with the darling Sydney who talked of school and Wyatt who mumbled about halloween costumes (incase your wondering he wants to be either: Bugs Bunny or a pirate...my suggestion be Bugs Bunny dressed up as a pirate- problem solved). It was a very enjoyable night.

A lot, a lot, a lot, has happened since. Working, going to Thursday Night Football games, breakfast with the gang and a much delusional Illy, coffee with the woman every Tuesday, good skits, funny skits, embarressing skits, outreaches and revivals; so so so much, I don't know how I could put it all down on screen...(I hope you guys caught the joke).
Anyways, I hope to share more of them with you, especially with my new blog regimen.
-Toby K.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

My Second Home, My Second Family.

In my last post I made mention of fun tales about adventure and excitement that took place this last weekend. I am proud to announce that I am now going to share those very tales.

The first tale of mine takes us all the way back to Saturday afternoon where I recieved invitation to a barbeque. After leaving work at 4pm I drove the thirty minutes out to Rickreall. I may have been 2 and a 1/2 hours late but as far as I was concerned the party had just begun.
I walked through the doors of the Rust house and met Melissa sitting in a deserted living room with the sounds of gun fire coming from the field in the back. I could hardly contain myself with news of the cause- a shoot-out! Melissa quickly escorted me through the knee high tall grass to a mowed out section of the field where we found fifteen or so men scattered around a make-shift tent surrounded by guns, bullets the size of one of my fingers, and orange plastic disks.
As I walked into the group I could hear my name being called every which way, followed by the question, "So are you gonna shoot?".
I smiled and greeted, but was strong in my stand against complete and utter humiliation that would come if I took hold of one of those guns; I was absolutley adamant...But with Robby's firm tug on my sleeve I was off (still in protest) towards the field.
"Here", Robby said, reaching back to hand me his baseball cap, "it'll keep the sun out of your eyes".
"Robby, I really don't wanna do this" I said slidding my ponytail through the opening in the back of the hat, adjusting it straight.
Robby continued to ignore my protest and instead lead me in introduction with a very large slick black strapping piece of machinery.
"Robby, why are you giving me the biggest gun in the world?" I said, trying to muster up enough strength to keep the gun from wobbling out of my arms.
"Because this is my gun" he said.
"Oh, okay...", I said, because what he said sure did make a whole lot of sense- not.
Non the less I followed his directions, and took my place on the square wooden cut-out that he brought me to.
"Pull!" I yelled, fired, and missed. But the rush, the pulsing surge of energy that gets sent through every muscle of your body and the immediate retraction as if it was being sucked back out! Oh, the feeling if anything is worth the missed shot. So again I reestalished my position and yelled out the order, "Pull!"; and again I missed. I continued like this till about my fourth shot. I repositioned my footing, leveled the gun, and waited as the first shooter yelled, "pull". Finally I heard the wooshing sound of the birdie whip into motion and after the first shooters failed attempt I aimed my gun, fired, and devestated the disk into a dozen flying pieces. A roar went up behind me as I turned to Robby with curious eyes, "Was that me? Did I hit it Robby?!", but before Robby even had time to answer, the crowd behind him began yelling congragulations and excitment.
The thrill of it all was breathtaking, phenominal, stunning, overwhelming, boggling, simply undescribable.
The rest of the night went more serenly to say the least. I spent the last few hours of the evening and the first few of the morning lounging in a cushioned rocking chair watching old movies from the 60's and 70's with the Dixon girls, as the Dixon men occupied the master-bedroom with three large televisons all of which displaying the gruesome, grotesque, and unquestionably stunning effects of the phenoman better known as HALO. Reguardless to say, the night was spent, not intune with the dialogue that came from our television, but rather the dialogue that came bursting from the back room. "No! Don't do that!" "Wait! What are you getting out of the car for?!" "Dang it! I just died."

The night ended with the velvety hum of my car's engine as I followed close behind the tail lights of more experienced drivers, and with the welcoming call of my unmade bed.

My evening, less to say, was unparalleled.
-Toby K.

(P.S. the second tale will be arriving shortly)

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

In the Valley of the Shadow of Death

I'm a child of many colors, a lady of many faults, and a woman of many convictions.

This phrase alone could describe, not only my entire life, but just the last 100 or so hours. It's phenominal how much has taken place in such a short time. I had my first breakdown with Pastor Foley this last Sunday evening.
Through out the entire service I struggled with condemnation. I kept looking down at my service journal (Reagan) fore everytime I'd lift my head and look into Pastors scanning eyes my stomach would churn with mounding conviction. Oh Lord, I thought, what do I do?
Even during the very intense altar call, (upon which I refused to go to the altar), my body felt limp beneath my lifted hands. I sang aloud praying inside mouthing words of worship. Oh Lord, I beg of you...help. And yet I still refused to approach the altar as we began a second round of singing. Fear of a let down much like that mornings altar call, inwhich I practically ran to the platform with conviction and then left with even more condemnation, kept me paralyzed at my seat.
Then through the silence, wringing my hands tightly under my chin, a voice spoke the words of the Lord..."-and I will help you in every situation your in"...at that very moment I knew: it was time to talk to Pastor.
After service I watched as Pastor spoke with various church members and I slowly made my way to the platform waiting for my turn. My palms sweat, my heart raced, my mind seemed blurred.
"Pastor, do you think we could talk?" I finally choked out.
"Yes, ofcourse." he said looking around, "Can it wait it minute though? I have few people I need to talk to".
"Oh yeah, take your time, really, I'm in no rush," and I stepped to the side waiting down the minutes. I tried distracting myself with light conversation slowly stepping into the circle of girls. I followed their words with a smile and even managed to fake a laugh at appropriate times; then he came.
Sitting on stage, starring out my knees, I poured out my soul. It didn't take long for the tears to come flooding out and for my voice to begin cracking between breaths. After I layed out what appeared more like a confession rather that a query, I looked up to see Pastor struggling to suppress a smile.
"Don't feel condemned" he said.
"Just don't?" I asked.
"Just don't. You know what you did, you know it was wrong; you've repented and taken care of it. You won't do it again, so don't worry about it. Just don't." he said, this time sporting a no longer concealed smile.
"Thank you Pastor." I said and walked off the platform with new alleviation. My first target was ofcourse the strategically placed box of tissues, and my second, the bathroom where I splashed cool water on my flushed cheeks. All I could do was sigh with closed eyes as the cold water trickled down to my collarbones...Oh Lord, thank you. Thank you a million times backwards. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Almight God, thank you.

Rather than dealing with my condemnation head on I decided to stash it under my mattress where it built and built, soon becoming the size of a small elephant. There's no shame in talking to my Pastor, even if it was infront of half the congregation miggling between aisles.

There's much more to my eventful weekend, joyful things that I want to tell you about so bad, but my fingers are a tad tired so I will have to save the fun stories for another time.
But for now, too-da-loo.
-Toby K.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Favorable Sunday Afternoon

Today I spent the day at the park. After church I came home, changed into something more comfortable, and wandered over to the park a few blocks away from my house. Tthere were no more than 10 people there (a mom and her children, a few resting basketball players, and a couple stray teenagers) but they didn't stay long so before I knew it I had the park all to myself. I took the time to do some writting and then b-lined it to the swings. I spent 20 minutes swinging back and forth starring up at the planes floating by overhead. I'd close my eyes and arch my back flying towards the sky and then bounce into the seat as gravity sent me hurdling backward, my hair rushing past my face. After coming to a slow stop I found a nice shaded spot in the grass, put on some tunes and fell asleep right there in the park. Even after I was awake I still layed there watching the clouds move in and out of motion. Eventually I stood up from the grass, grabbed my stuff, and set on the adventure back home, it was a short adventure but an adventure at that.
Today the hours were slow and I still have two more to fill, but those few hours alone at the park were pure bliss. They made my Sunday worth something nice.

Here's one of the pieces I wrote at the park:

Natalies Dance
She patterns herself with reds and blues and oranges and violets and maroons.
Her blonde curls bouncing with the summers breeze.
Dangling limbs gait across weeds and dandelions.
Her arms stretch out far beside her as she runs,
head hanging down watching her bobbying shoes.
Radiance finds home in her laughter,
and she favors us with it often.
Carefree, beautified, and contentful, all show themselves in her,
coming out in every fluid breath and moment.
The world waits on her shoulders,
shyly she whispers to it- "knock-knock",
and she giggles.

-Toby K.

Friday, September 3, 2010

The Bones We Were

When the dead hear the bones begin to rumble beside,
They will arise, arise.

When the dead see their armor fashioned and polished,
They will arise, arise.

When the dead begin to be called away by name,
They will arise, arise.

When the dead stand before their Creator, the King,
They will arise, arise.

When the dead become the redeeemed,
We will arise, arise.

-Toby K.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Sleepless In McMinnville

I can't sleep and I feel the dawn approaching quickly. I lay here in the dark listening to the sound of my feet shuffling in and out of my blankets. The nights are the most lonliest time; theres no one awake to talk you down from this insomniac state and the only thing willing to keep you company are the whitewash walls starring back you shadowed by streetlamp light and tree branches. My computer rests on my carpet and I hang half my body over the edge of my bed typing away the seconds. My hands look old in this faint light and I watch them as they sluggishly move across the keyboard. I wonder how many more sleepless nights this summer will bring me fore many have already come in the passing months.
Today I sat outside in a small field behind my house on a stump in the middle of a bushel of wildflowers. The breeze was cool and the bee's were friendly. I took the time to write a letter, not that letter writting is any sort of a favorite past time of mine, but it gave me something to do. I wrote to a friend that I miss dearly, one I haven't seen in countless days and one I won't see for countless more. I told them about the weather, how warm the sun was on my bare feet, and about how absolutley cloudless the sky was. I told them about the grass...oh how sweet it smelled, as if the very essence of summer rested in it's ability to smell as sweet as it did. I could here tennis players passing the ball back and forth at the campus nearby and I told my friend about that too; about how the ball popped everytime it slammed into the opponents racket --- pop pop skid pop. The skidding of their tennis shoes across the cement seemed to echo more than the popping ball but I didn't mind. I told them about the relationship between the gusting breeze and my loose strands of hair as they were pushed across my cheek every few seconds despite my avid tucking of them behind my shoulders; I didn't mind that either. I told them about the thorns from a neighboring rose bush that made quick friends with my elbow. It's scrapings left little white marks on my arm and a few holes in my sleeve but I didn't seem to mind that much either. Nothing could take me away from that moment, alone in a field watching wildflowers dance in the summer sun, doing what I love doing the most...writting.
The rest of the day didn't prove too eventful and the time before that wasn't anything worth boasting either, but the hour I spent away from the world made the day all seem worth it; maybe even worth this sleepless night.
-Toby K.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Writers Write

As of late, I have been flushed with literature inspiration. Novel ideas, segmented sentences, fluid rhymes, have all flowed through my brainwaves crashing into my skull and then retreating with the tide. In a days time, with all my thought's, I find myself, in one moment, looking out from the tallest tower in a castle from a land far far away, then in the next, I'm smelling freshly cut grass from a field that stretches out past my 19th century home. Rather than pulling out a pencil and scratch-piece of paper to write down these rivers of fiction styles, I store them. They begin by resting in the back of my head, making home with other melancholy thoughts, and then begin to move slowly through my blood stream till they've made permanent residence among my bones and arteries. Someday they will be made into ink and be stamped on pages tied and bound with a funky black and white cliche cover of a tree resting over a riverbed or of a sunset in the August afternoon; but for now they will remain imbeded in my flesh, creating in me a charcter and personality that can only be described through words.
-Toby K.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Through The Fishermans Eyes A Destiny Revealed

Tonight I feel like jumping feet first into some film playing on the wide screen of darkblue plastered over us this evening. I'm watching through my window past the clouds as it turns from blue to grey to black within the inch-wide openings between my blinds. I reach for a piece of chocolate and lay it on my tongue, I let it melt against the roof of my mouth and nibble on the crunchy caramel it has hidden inside. I lay my head back and reminisce over a dream I had the night before.
It was about a man, a fisherman I think, raised in a time long before now. He was asked by God to perform an act but because of his fear and rebellion he denied God's request. The conviction fell over him, heavy like a brick and itchy like wool. God raised up a bible in the mans hands and led him in reading scriptures. The man began to weap as he followed the Lord's finger across the page. The passage he read said if he were to follow God's commands he would recieve great blessings, many in the form of his family's salvation. It was then that I remembered his family just as he did. They proclaimed Christianity but were not living for God; and the man wept harder as he remembered. The word that came jumping from the page in almost every line was the word radical. His family would be radical for God if he would only listen. I then opened my eyes, no longer looking through his, but rather at my gold colored pillow below me. The subject of my family being saved has been one on my heart for a while now and I think it's long over do.
Lord I will follow your commands, I will listen to your word, I will share your Gospel, I will be your humble and loyal servant.
I will follow the examples of men like Ebed-Melech and be guided by the light of the Lord.
Jeremiah 39:18
-Toby K.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Sophies Lullaby

Daft is what I say.
Daft plays silly in the rain.
Daft does not yell or strike,
But looks beyond hell and strife.
Daft makes music with the breeze.
Singing lullaby's with the bee's.
Daft makes gentle, tough and kind,
taking hands in childs mind.
Daft dances the jitterbugs jig,
eating sweetly the tree's fresh fig.
Daft rest's sleeply on a slumbered rock,
mixing earth with righteous talk.
Taking new a day in time,
there goes daft, oh child of mine.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

A Winding Path Leading Towards A Mighty Sea

I'm facing the winds. Starring straight towards them. I will never give up, not after the dust slaps my face and not after the debree begins to bruise my body. I will not stand down, turn aside, or crouch away in fear. I am stronger than any winds you could throw at me. Stonger than any storm you could put me in. Looking up into the eye of the storm, the winds a cyclone around me, I do not fear what comes next, a fight I will endure to stay grounded, because nothing is stronger than what I have. I have the King of all Kings, mighter than Zeus, more powerful than Posideon, more cunning than Hermes. My God is the only God. My God is the only Lord, the only Savior, the only Redeemer.

I realized today that it is not until you are in the eye of the storm, when facing you is the worst to come, that there is a peace knowing that you are halfway done. Halfway between life and death. Halfway between sanity and insanity. Halfway to knowing what lies outside this spinning vortex that has you blocked in every direction. I'm in this spot. Where the world seems to be the quietest, but if I move in any direction I can hear the screams and pains of my soul. Like crippled bodies reaching from the depths of a rolling sea is the hell that incompasses the mere mortal who dare defy God's will. The choice is ours. To listen and be heard, or to deny and be condemned. Which path do you choose? Both are rocky, long, and treturous, but niether lead towards the same dirrection, both take you far off in opposite ways. But even on the path to no where are there detours leading back to the path to somewhere. No matter how many mistakes. No matter how many flaws. No matter how many setbacks, there is one answer and one answer only. That is to listen and be heard, to call and be set free, to ask and be forgiven.

I am far down the path leading to no where, but I've come to a cross roads and I know which path I'm taking.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Pit-Stain Professor.

The day had gone by slow. Long and drawn out my attention had since evaported with the morning dew. After my morning classes I walked into English, pulled out my chair from the desk and sat 2nd row, right of the professor. The class had already shuffled in and every desk surrounding me was empty. I was like an island. I watched my teacher as he delved into his theories and analysis of the current novel in discussion. His perception fell short of my eager anticipation of conversation and again my attention was lost. Watching as my Professor stretched his arm out over the class as he continued to explain through chapters, I couldn't help but notice the giant pit-stain under his arm. As hard as I tried my eyes would not veer from the stain that seemed to grow as seconds passed. I scrounged my eyes through papers and other belongings that fell onto my desk out of my black leather bag but still they found their way back to his underarm. It seemed to mock us with each outstretch of his arm. He wore a pink plaid button down, cuffed mid fore-arm and unbuttoned showing the tips of his clavicals. His pants proved more of a contrast, dark and khaki, ending at shoes dark brown and rounded. Still as I watched his foot tap against the floor with each new theory my eyes continued to heed the giant stain. I watched other eyes through the class and wondered if they as well noticed the smuged eyesore but they proved too captivated by the dialogue. The entirety of the class consisted of me trying to advert my eyes from menacing mark under my professors bicep. It was a long and vigorous day in English class to say the least.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Victoria's Garden

It feels as if I have not blogged in ages. That is probably because I haven't. I haven't had the slightest inclination that I should blog, and with my constantly expanding schedule I have not had the time to sit infront of my computer and annotate my life as of late. I am excited to finally have time and inspiration for this blog, more so the time because I have no concrete focus for this blog. I will but let the keyboard take me along with it's square-shaped wind's desire.
Let's start from where I left off, before that let me pull out the history book because it seems so long ago that I last wrote anything. It is so long ago that I don't eve recall what my last blog was about. Let us see, did I tell you about my internship at the Birthing Center at Willamette? Well I was honored to see a C-section in the early morning and a live birth in the latter part of my day. Yesturday I began my second rotation at the hospital in the ER and saw was seemed to be a million IV's done and lounged around for most of the six hours I was there with the slow inflow of patients and the inactive atmosphere of the ER. The clocked went by slower that it has ever before. I felt as if I was done after two hours and once we hit four I knew they had lost me and my focus. I'm hoping Monday, when I return to finish the last of my twelve hours that I will be able to see more exciting things, and actually leave the ER intrigued and with the feeling of accomplishment, because as of right now both those things are void.
I have recently discovered that my braces do not like hard sprinkles. None of them have broken but the sprinkles get stuck inbetween each and every one of my braces, so after finishing off a bowl of vanilla ice-cream with a topping of sprinkles I am forced to wash my mouth out, swishing until every last sprinkle is unharnessed from the prision guards residing in my mouth, better known as braces.
As of late my confidence has been completley diminished and I've found it hard to cope with that. On Wednesday night one of my good friends Nikki approached me and told me that she has been thinking about my lack of self confidence and things in accordance with that, and she told me that it was a demonic assualt. She gave me much needed advice that proved to be most successful. All of what she said really struck a cord in me but one line (or stanza) in peticular stood out to. She told me that because we are children of God we are like royalty in God's eyes. That we are his bride, that "you are like a princess" she said. That one phrase made me feel like a four year old indulging in one big fairytale. But it was true and I think that's why it made me feel so giddy. When we are little we dress up like fairy's and dance at the ball around our room, arms wound around the giant teddy bear or tiger always with a Mister in front of his name, and we pretend that we are royalty, that some day we would have a dress like Diana's or a garden like Victoria's. And after Nikki left, while praying about this demon and casting it off, I thought about how we are royalty, and someday we will dance in Heaven, twirl in elegant dresses, and pick flowers from the most beautiful garden you have ever seen. That is just one tiny part of Heaven and I can hardly wait.
-Toby K.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Eventful Days, Eventful Mind.

Many things have happened in that last ten days or so. I've been slacking on my updating my blog and I can defentley feel impact it has had on me.
Where do I begin? Well, let's start from the beginning, that seems logical. On Wednesday I walked into the dentist office anxious and perplexed, and walked out sporting a brane new set of sharp, gum cutting braces. My teeth are still sore despite the fact I had them put on almost a week ago.
That Thursday I did a rotation at the Willamette Hospital and was allowed to witness a C-section and a live birth within one six-hour span. I was blown away by how blessed I was to see these two events played out. It was so amazing that no words can describe how I felt after. Later that day I went to a prayer meeting and after about forty minutes of prayer a group of us went over to Abel's house to celebrate his thiry-forth Birthday. We played a game of scrabble and the noise level rose continually as the game advanced on debates of made-up words and correct spellings.
On Friday I went over to the O'halloran's for dinner and fellowship, later to find out that it was Pastor's birthday and as seeing that only a few party goers were aware of this Pastor left with only minor gifts. I do believe he enjoyed it though. Oh, but I did forget to mention that earlier that Friday morning, I entered into another dentist office and left with two teeth extracted. So medicated and oblivious I delighted in sitting in the O'halloran's living room listening to conversations and laughing with friends.
The next morning I awoke bright and early ready for the all day outreach that we had prepared. Prayer met at ten and outreach started at ten-thirty. We had two guerrilla teams come in from Portland and Beaverton. During outreach I didn't pray with anyone, but I did get some refreshing witnessing out of my system. For the latter half of the day I joined the Portland team during outreach and spent a majority of my day with two of there girls, Emma and Sherstan. They were immensly kind and fun to spend time with. The concert, I felt, was phenomenal and the skit I thought went well. I, myself, played the Christian, but I enjoyed it. I think playing the sinner is a harder task than playing the Christian. Daniel said I did good even though I did forget some of the things he wanted me to say, but he said that I still got all the major points across.
The next day, Sunday, came quick but not quick enough. We began revival with Jerry Fussel and it will go on every night through this Wednesday. God has been giving me some revelations latley, but some have come more clearer than others. Well for the most part, none of them have come in too clearly. Maybe what I'm hearing or seeing is truely what God is speaking to me, but because it is not what I've been wanting to hear I've decided to discredit it. My confliction over the past few days has grown stupendously, and my emotions have seemed to override my entire system. My priorities have changed direction, and that has worried me, not the fact that they have changed but how in such a short amount of time they have. I will keep praying and praying, for I know that God's will will be done despite my ever changing mind.
-Toby K.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Stars Are In My Hands, My hands Are In God's

Today I'm exhibiting traits, that of a cliche teenager. That fact alone send shivers up my back, warm and delicate. That back, made warm with today's wonderous heat. A warmth so sweet and gentle, I can feel it consuming me. Every time I cross by an open window I am blessed with the warm breeze and the sounds of people who have wondered out to enjoy this unfamiliar February day. I want to bask in the sun forever. I want to lay beneath a tree, read a book, talk to someone I love, share a drink while sitting on a bench in the center of town, eat a strawberry. I want to enjoy this day, unlike yesturday, which was a day almost wasted by my emotions and exhaustion. I sat outside with half my feet on the chilled cemet and by rump on the carpet of my house. Leaning against the sliding glass door I hummed to myself and closed my eyes. I saw red as the sun's light still found it's way past my eye-lids. I watched as my cat danced in the overgrown grass, and rolled in the dirt looking back at me after every turn. "Stuart," I called when he decided that our yard was not good enough for him; I don't mind interupting his explorations as long as I am keeping him safe, he'll thank me later.
Today I appeared to be something of a chaser. I wanted to chase my friends all over town just to get their attention, just to make them notice that I had nothing to do. My chasing ended in a void, and I still ended up sitting at my house playing a card game with my Mother. I didn't mind, I was actually suprised when she looked over from the couch, "Let's play cards. Remember that game we played a few weeks back, lets play that?". I smiled and grabbed some snacks, a couple chilled soda's, and two decks of cards. We shuffled the blues and red together, then after left them scattered on the table for later pick-up. I enjoyed winning as well, I made a late comeback, but beat her 120 to 150. A sweet success indeed.
Today prior to playing cards with my mother, I went on outreach. I led to girls in a prayer, and my legs felt like jello when I walked away. Ashley and I engaged in some interesting conversation with a buddhist; we did not get our point's across to say the least, but we walked away with one more person witnessed to.
Last night driving home from bible study, I sang in the car to the song "Kiss me" by the Cranberries and daydreamed about my wedding. I felt thirteen all over again, and wasn't ashamed. Inside I think we are all emotional thirteen year old's, struggling with hormones and emotions. Every now and then we must drift back to that inorder to see how far we've come, even if it's just singing along with a four minute song on the car ride home.
On Thursday I saw the stars, I wanted to grab them and hold them so tight. I wanted to let them trickle through my fingers and I wanted to blow kisses to the moon. If only I could fly, just for the night; only me, God, and the sky, for however long we wanted. Laughing and crying, sharing and telling secret's, talking and listening, nothing more than sitting in a crater staring at the earth, it staring back at us. We would have the advantage, we would have the luxury of watching the greens and blues mix together in a blunder of clouds. But it would end sooner or later, maybe after hours, days, or even weeks, and I would have to float back to earth and not be able to express in words my experience with God and the universe. I would cry, tears of joy, for I know that even after that, I would see him again, standing by his gates shaking hands like a welcoming pastor. I love my God, and I know he loves me. We fly together, we laugh together, we love together; forever, together, all through eternity.
-Toby K.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A Life Lost To Bad Decisions

Today was a very busy day for me, I was running all over town. My first stop was the hospital where we finally had our orientation. It was nice to take a tour through the hospital, and upon leaving I already knew that I am going to get lost; after a few more times through, I should get the hang of it though. After leaving the hospital I began driving home, debating on whether or not I wanted to go to my afternoon class. Shortly before turning into my neighborhood I decided to head towards the school, despite the only forty minutes of class remaining. I walked into the school wearing a newly wrinkled pair of black scrubs and squeakingly stalked the hallways until I made it into my class and gladly entered seemingly unnoticed. My professor, Madam Zimmerman, made a reference to a man that she once lived with while spending time in France, and she said that the last time she visited France, he had recently bought one peice of land near his residence that would now be coined a ruin which contained an oubliette.
For a bizzare reason this miniscule piece of information really struck me.
I sat in class, jotting notes, sparsely listening, and my mind kept trailing back to this idea of owning a oubliette. Could one imagine, walking through this tunnel sort of enclosing and staring into what appears to be a cell and not attempt to consider the people that once sat inside? This led me to thinking about all the other tragedies that humans have had to endure.
There is a song out, it might have been released a few years back, and one of the lines states "No one's laughing at God on the day they realize the last sight they'll ever see's a pair of hateful eyes". Take that in for a second, absorb the magnitude of that line..."the last sight they'll ever see's a pair of hateful eyes".
Now, I have never been beaten, or abused, or put into a situation that even amounts to anything remotely close to the degree of torture that people on this earth have had to endure, because of simple hate that someone has held against them. I don't want to live a day where I am forced to.
Then that got me thinking about the tortures that await after death. The tortures that await all those who have decided to live a life that goes against God, their creator. How can people be so defiant against the one person who put them into existance, when our one and only purpose on this earth is to serve him?
Then that thought led me to this one; how is that we can let work, and school, and family, and friends, all get in the way of us spending time with God, when spending time with God is all that we are meant to do? Now, I cannot say that I have not let life get in between me and God, because I have, we all have, and we will all continue doing that; I just wanted to put this into perspactive, so that the next time your forced to choose between going to work, or going to church, you will think about your true purpose.
My life seems to weigh down on me more when I am away from God for long periods of a time; I cannot imagine what it would be like to die and be away from him forever, in a place where their sole purpose is to torture you. We all choose our destiny, we all make the decisions, why must you make the ones that will send you to hell?
-Toby K.

Monday, February 15, 2010

The Southern Wind's Are Calling

Yesturday Pastor preached his last sermon. It was hard to sit through, all the emotions going through the room made our minds seem moonstruck. The skit team performed for morning service and it was done flawlessly. Rachel and Joe played Susan and Pastor (Joes wig, which was spray-painted 15 minutes before, was the icing on the cake), while Daniel and I played Bobby and Alice (two made up characters from New Mexico). This is the second skit that I have been "Alice" in, I don't know why, the name seems to fit. Rachel played Susan so well, especially her incessant jabber on marriage, which we depicted by having Rachel presume that Daniel and I were a couple and swiftly pulling a white wedding dress from her bag insisting that Daniel and I should marry within the week. The crowd roared, and Pastor sat not three feet from us with a crooked smile. After the skit me and Rachel walked out of the Sactuary and bounced about the church enterance silently giggiling, each sporting a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. We high-fived the guys as they came through the doors about a minute later while they tryed to play down their excitement that they found hard to hide. This is what it is like after every skit and I adore it, I adore being in ministry even more. It feels like a million bloodpumps through your body all at once.
Nothing is equal to the feeling you get the second after the curtain sails close.

That was just the beginning of the day. At the end of service, when Pastor asked Foley to approach the stage all the hearts in the room began to beat with severe intensity, for we knew it was time. Praying for Foley came easy, but when Pastor and Susan took center spot in the front with all hands raised towards them, I found prayer the last thing I was capable of. I found difficulty even speak through the flowing tears that I tried frantically to wipe. When the noise of tongues finally subsided and Luke prophesied, waiting for the translation the only sound heard was the sniffles of the various noses throughout the room. God gave his blessing to Pastor, and service came to a close. It ended, Pastor's last service ended, and the only thing we could do was cry and embrace eachother. Lines formed behind both Pastor and Susan as people waited their turn to hug, cry, and say their goodbyes through cracking voices. I watched as Susan hugged every person that passed her, wipping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand rather than pulling a tissue from the box sitting on the alter stairs. I took generously from the box, stairing at the vociferous room, tissues in hand held close to my chest, and replayed what felt like Pastor's every service in my mind. His dry humor, his booming voice, his lack of concern for personal space, his always tactful advice, the feeling of saftey that you always get when he's at service, and the insecure feeling that forms when he's away at conference. I didn't want to let go of his hand in our final handshake, and my voice rattled as I thanked him for just being here with us. He smiled and laughed as I talked about crying through every Foley service to come and moving to New Mexico after them.

In the end, after the last wading family left, all us young kids joined Pastor and Susan for one last picture and still Susan with wedding bells ringing in her ears, backed away from the crowd, arms spread out towards us, "Perfect, I can just match you up now...Okay you go over here with him," she laughed. We smiled wide as we all blinked through the final flash and then we left. Pastor walked out the doors, cold air brushing his thin gray hairs, Susan close to his side holding her skirt above the west greening cemet. They will like the New Mexican heat.

I felt nauseous walking back into the sactuary that night (but I think it was a reaction to my perfurm more than overwhelming feelings). I haven't yet addressed Foley, but I will with in the coming days. He is my new Pastor, I can't ignore him forever. Pastor wouldn't want that, he expects more from me. So next Wednesday, I'll walk through the maroon colored doors, not be engaged by Pastor's awkward belated greeting, sit in the second row, and slowly adjust to Foley's manner of speaking. It shouldn't take long; I hope.
-Toby K.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Mud On The Hill, The Water In The Well.

I was inspired to write today while reading assorted pieces of work that a few of my friends have written. I haven't yet sat down to write anything, and I am almost compelled to write a short shpeel right now, but I don't know if many of you would like that. For now I will write about my day and if I am to stumble on to some fiction-esc styles, then that will be it.
Today I went to outreach after I helped set up for my Grandfathers 90th birthday party. We had family from all over drive in to celebrate. I was only able to stay for about fifteen minutes after my Gramps arrived. He sure was suprised. He shuffled in holding onto his walker and looked up, eyes wide and pale from shock, as we non-concurrently yelled "surprise". He sat down and hugged his way through family members, shaking hands with distant relatives and a few distant grandchildren who barely knew his name. He made jokes and talked about women, as he usually does. He smiled as we followed his every word. The years show on him, through his wrinkles and bended fingers. His laugh has turned into a bark, and his voice hangs in a husk. Even through his Americanized words you can hear his German accent. It's hard to catch, and comes faint like a butterflies flap but when listening for it, you can find it. He smells of cigarette smoke, sometimes cherry, sometimes chocolate, but no matter the flavor the room is thick with it. When you hug him you can hear the buzzing of his hearing-aid and it feels as if your brain waves are crashing into his like a fighting ocean. He smiles wide like the suspenders draping over his shoulder. I don't remember anytime in my life where he didn't have a cain with him, wooden and rounded at the top. When he's sitting at the old worm table that him and my Grandmother had since forever, he would look down at the surface and run his fingers over the wood wiping away dust that wasn't there, or the ashes that were. His eyes look sad, grey and deep. They were probably once a bright blue, but the years have drained them of their color. His baseball cap sits loosly on his head; I have only seen him without it maybe twice in my entire life. His shoes are brown and heavy, and his coffee cup is stained with years of spilled caffeine. My Grandfather's bird Buddy, squeals sharp and is consistantly heard in the back ground; maybe just to make himself known in the room full of talking people. His green feathers drap down low and red trickles through his tail. He is older than I, and my siblings as well who are fourteen years grander than me. When I begin to think about my Grandfather when he still lived on the hill, in a house hidden in the mountains behind our little town, I cannot help but think of my Grandmother. She was something else. Loud and crazy, a character in the least. When ever company walked through the screen door she would spring to life, telling stories about way back when or the adventure she had just yesturday going to the market. Mud laced our shoes and the rims of her wheelchair. You could tell where she had been based on the marks covering the floor. It was a small dirty place, bugs and dust filled every crevice, and the garden was far overgrown when we finally sold it, but just a few years before, it was something beautiful (still dirty, but beautiful). I do remember her standing in the garden, probably shooing the geese from out of her way. Clothes and draperies hung on the wire lines that ran over the garden, and humingbird feeders lined the walls outside the house. Chicken ran amuck just over the fence leading to the coop that us kids would get eggs from. I know every child down through my nieces and nephew who are now 5 and 9 went out and collected eggs. I do remember collecting eggs with my Grandfather, and my Grandmother shortly before she was wheelchair stricken. All the water that went through the house was from a well that sat a little further up the hill; the water never being clear, but tasted sweet. My Grandmothers laugh, high like mine, mixed in the air like sour and sweet. I've been told I look like her, and have been told even more so that I act like her. She'd throw out her opinions regaurdless of who was in the room or not. She was like the fire on the logs that burned in the furnice, bright and strong, always hot to the touch. She was the thing that held our family together and the thing that sometimes tore us apart, but we would always come back to her, never staying away too long. I pray that I will never forget her, that I will never forget the days sitting on the hill, rain spitting on the windows, smelling chocolate smoke, laughing with my grandparents. They are the past, present, and furture of all of us; may I never omit that from my mind.
-Toby K.

Thursday, February 11, 2010


I had a vicious headache today. I sat in my car during lunch and listened to the insestent kahing of the crow perched in the tree above me. "Kah kah kah", he went, and I readily rested my head in my palm as I watched the seconds tick by mockingly. This day has gone by so slowly I can sparsely stand it. A concert is tonight at the Linfield college with one of our bands, Untold Stories, and I am actually looking forward to that. I love our bands, they are so annointed and talented. God is defentley working in through their music. I am quite elated that we get to branch out from the Other Side (our local concert scene) and get to preach to people who wouldn't usually come to one of our concerts. Prayer is about 25 minutes or so, and I will be leaving soon, I just thought I'd take a second to relay all of this to you. My day, non-stop and hectic, not the most joyous, but I'm banking on it having a fabulous ending. The sky has been diseased with a constant cover of clouds latley, I hope tonight I will get the chance to look at the stars.
"Ka-kah" says the crow, sparkle does the stars, bump of my heart beating soley for Jesus, my savior.
-Toby K.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Passionate Philippic

The bowl next to me has about a 1/2 cup of milk left over from my midday snack that I designated at Fruity Cheerio's on this dreary cold February day. "Slurp", sounds as I consume the last remaining drops. It was sweet and wet, the perfect thing to cleanse my palette after todays visit to the dentist. As we speak I have six rubber circles shoved between my gums seperating my teeth for the braces that will be applied this coming 24th. As excited as everyone is surrounding me, I would rather not jump for joy over the self-inflicted pain that I am putting myself through. And on top of that, today I had an orientation and walkthrough at the hospital for my up and coming internships; upon arrival (after going through the wrong door and standing in a room awkwardly for about a minute), I found a note on the correct door informing me that the entire orientation was moved to next week..."sorry for the incovenience". I would have preferred an apology five hours ago, before I left to the hospital. But "what is done is done" as my mother would have eloquently stated. So as I brush the gas money filled dust and debris off my non-grudgeful shoulder, I will keep myself preoccupied by running my tongue over the plastic pieces wedged throughout my mouth.
Luckily I have church tonight, and after reading the above paragraph I bet many of you are wondering, "Is this person really Christian?", but I think that everyone, Christian or not, has days that upset them. Yes, Christians do get flustered and aggrevated as much as we try to hide it. But I think the difference is that we don't really take all of it to heart. Yes, today was slightly off, compared to the day that I had planned on experiencing, but that does not mean the rest of my day is ruined or wasted. No, that is not true. After I finish typing this I will go and pray for a while before running out to finish some errands before church tonight where I will commit thirty more minutes to prayer. And I right now, vow to have productive and effective prayer...the devil will try to change that, but I wont left him.
So my over all point is that I think that no matter what events may occur, don't let them level your day competley, and also don't let someone's ranting over a blog characterize them as something or another. For I am not truely riled, I am but lavished with strong emotions, alike any woman in today's society.
-Toby K.