Life has been called a river, a journey, a road which everyone must follow in their own way. And one of the commonly phrased concepts about all three is that they are never straight for long. Every time that I think I know what lies ahead, a new turn or hill completely rattles around my perspective once again. And I don't believe that my life will ever be without those intermittent moments hitting me every now and then. To tell the truth, I don't think I want them to stay away from me. It's true I always come out of those times rather shaken up: confused, scared, lonely. But I also always come away with a new resolution for moving forward and pursuing the person I know God made me to be. I know I would be a very immature, stale little boy without those moments. They make me feel as if I've been reborn every time. I love that. I'm very grateful for it. I sometimes even find myself wishing to have such a moment descend on me. And it usually does. I can't imagine a worse life than never having them force progression on me.
But they still hurt.
Because I'm such an outspoken and arrogant person, seemingly brimming with confidence, something I think very few people recognize in me is my insecurity. Truthfully, I'm not sure if anyone at all understands how heavy it weighs on me. Each and every action of mine is affected by it one way or another. I spend so much thought and effort into getting people to notice I exist that it's really quite pitiful. And I just want to laugh when I catch myself at it. But I can't. Being in love with someone infinitely out of your reach certainly doesn't help anything either. I get so frustrated with myself sometimes, with the way I lie and live on. But I have no way to express it all deeply enough, no trigger for release. So I bottle up all my emotions and hide them, always returning to my happy-go-lucky facade. It's sobering when you claim that your entire life's purpose is to bring glory and honor to the One who rightly deserves it all, but then realize that you're not even trusting Him to play fairly with your emotions, much less fix your problems and take care of your life.
I'm a walking oxymoron. I cannot place my confidence in myself. And yet I refuse to wholly give in to the only One who can.
And so here I am again, knowing that I can't remain who I am, knowing that maturity is coming whether I want it or not, whether I'm ready for it or not. But I'm too stubborn, too frightened to take that needed step forward. It's kind of ironic that a self-proclaimed daredevil struggles so much with a simple leap of faith.
I know that God will use me in spite all of my deficiencies and failures. I know that He cares for and blesses His children beyond where our imaginations can take us. I know that life will always be better because of His influence. But I desperately hope that I don't settle for better. Despite the pain, regardless of who goes down the same road with me, I hope that I struggle on for what is best.

-Nic

Enough

This is a song I wrote on the plane back from Turkey. It turned out fairly well I think. (Now I just have to figure out the music to go with it...Yikes.)

How deep is my love for you?

The bottom was missing from the start

How wide is too far to cross to you?

You always stay close to my heart.

You make me think I’m dead

This is too heavenly

You make me scared to live

I am so undeserving

How purely am I yours?

My fragile heart has only one key.

How long will my love go on?

Eternity cannot measure infinity.

You make me think I’m dying

I cannot catch my breath

You make me know I’m living

My heart beats too fast to be caught by death

How strong is my love for you?

Fear and death will find me standing firm.

How do I envision you?

You ignite my world and I spin and I learn.

You’re the light that stays on through my night

You’re the fire in me burning

Keeps my heart churning

Yearning forever for you

You hold on to the very essence of me

Then do I love you enough to let you go free?

Copyright 2010, White Water.

Because being unoriginal in expressing love is just lame.

Didanillyazelli (But you can call it Denizili)

Bright and early Friday Morning:
The start of a great adventure. Forget the daytripping. Enough with the walkabouts. This was a full four day trek across Turkey.
We were all headed to visit with some friends and fellow workers in a smaller city about four hours inland that goes by the name of Denizili, where we would be staying for the weekend. But this was also a perfect chance to get the remaining churches from Revelation under my belt.

Stop One:
Sardis was a two-part mini-adventure in itself. The first place was nestled in a part of the mountains, full of open fields and massive pillars, not to mention a spectacular view. I dragged Isaac all over with me as I stopped to take pictures willy-nilly and listen to a huge chorus of bullfrogs in a tiny pond. The next part looked to be quite impressive, as it consisted almost entirely of a ginourmous gymnasium. But then my sight promptly left me as some sort of bug decided to taste the inside of my eyelid and refused to leave. (I finally got it out in a bathroom that night, and let me tell you: it was HUGE.) That definitely put a damper on Sardis, but it was still pretty awe-inspiring.
Stop Two:
Philadelphia left me with very little to write about. It was a fenced off area of maybe 20 or 30 square meters. Maybe less. It consisted entirely of two hulks of pillars that were not really pillars at all. More than likely they were just main supports of the building. They were made of brick-like slabs and probably only turned into pillars as a result of everything else around them having fallen. And that was that.
Stop Three:
Laodicea was significantly more impressive! There wasn't much of a restoration, so everything was very grassy and rubbly. But it was so expansive as to make up for it. Uncle Alan walked around with Isaac and I this time, and we spent multiple hours wandering over the rocks. There were two fairly large amphitheaters and some kind of sports arena that was really interesting, as well. And there was one jumble of...stuff (brick? rock? mud? it looked rather like a termite hill) that showed the piping system in a way that blows your mind about how advanced their technology was. But we needed to keep moving. So on we go!
Home Base:
Denizili was a much smaller city than Izmir (maybe 300,000), but just as (if not more) beautiful. It was right against the base of the mountains. And they were real mountains. Snow-capped and everything. Simply gorgeous. There we met up with some friends of the family. They were a lot of fun, and I laughed quite a bit around them during that weekend. They also happened to be the parents of someone who had been on my dorm during my freshman year, which made things even more homey feeling. Isaac and I didn't end up staying with them however. We got volunteered (read strongly encouraged/kicked out) to go spend the trio of nights a block away in another friend's apartment. He was a 20-something short-termer, and we clicked with him immediately. And so we hung out with their group during the weekend, having a swell time that was uneventful except for one day which I shall proceed to mention in the next paragraph. Bear with me.
Pamukkale (perhaps better known as Hierapolis) is a very popular resort and attraction right outside of Denizili, and so Uncle Alan, Isaac, and I took a day out to visit it (Aunt Sandy went shopping with her friend). It had some pretty awesome ruins and public hot springs. The main part of the ruins that we saw were actually tombs. Rows upon rows of tombs. It just went on and on, some even stacked on top of each other. It was pretty neat, actually. Then we swam for a while in the hot springs which was a lot less hot than expected but a lot more fun. The pool area that they had created was full of old pillars and stones, so we were swimming amongst and above ruins. We also held a competition between the three of us to see who could hold their breath under water the longest (I won with a little over a minute and a half).
(p.s. Never, ever let that water get in your eyes if you can, it hurt like crazy!!)
The Return Journey:
Monday morning we said farewell to the whole group in Denizili and headed back to Izmir via Ephesus. And very few things indeed can compare to Ephesus. It was unmatched in the expanse and quality with which the area was restored. I can't describe most of it very well, so look at the pictures on Facebook. Let it just be said that it felt like walking through an entire little town (populated by tourists instead of Romans). And the amphitheater there was most impressive of all. It was beyond ridiculous in size, and had been restored so nicely that shows are actually held there at times. (I couldn't resist and attempted to do an impromptu monologue there myself, but I had nothing prepared and too many tourist groups kept coming through, so it was kind of lame.) But Ephesus truly was a wonder.
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jog:
The only other thing of note on the trip back was where we stopped to eat lunch. It was a random little restaurant out in the middle of nowhere (I have no clue how the Whites managed to come across it before). You sit in tents instead of a building, with lots of thick carpets instead of floors, and all sorts of amazing things of authenticity hanging from the support beams. The food was made fresh completely from scratch (much was grown in their own gardens), which meant that it took a while to be made, but was incredibly delicious, as well (possibly the best I've had in Turkey so far). And then we were home. Well, actually, then we went to Ephesus, then we were home, but who cares about order, right? Bring on the chaos, I say! Up with Anarchy (that I rule)!!

And so carry on then my slaves...er, friends! Until I put finger to keyboard again,
-Nic