jillian is a photographerGooglism is a website where you can find out what Google thinks of you...which of these would you say are really true? I like "jillian is innocent of more than murder"--it sounds like a great beginning for a story, don't you think?
jillian is great
jillian is just beginning to suspect that things in her shadow are not quite what they seem
jillian is very open to new ideas so don't hesitate to ask
jillian is "who will we get who can follow her next year?"
jillian is not exactly the tame little mouse he's expecting
jillian is the only woman among many men
jillian is worried
jillian is a friendly little girl
jillian is a senior yoga instructor at yoga zone
jillian is a 25 foot fiberglass lobster style fishing boat
jillian is in a fight for her life
jillian is like coming full circle
jillian is no stranger to the stage
jillian is alone at the beach house playing solitaire and listening to music
jillian is able to read lips and decodes their conversation for the fbi
jillian is that she's the only one
jillian is one in a million
jillian is disturbed when a patient is brought in with an ingrowing toenail
jillian is busy with her life as a school teacher
jillian is a three
jillian is weatherbabe for fox 11 morning news and good day la
jillian is also the assistant captain of the local girls hockey team in port saunders called the "hockey chicks"
jillian is innocent of more than murder
jillian is a penniless innocent all alone
jillian is all about life
jillian is assaulted and nearly killed
jillian is finishing off a masters degree in teaching
jillian is versatile enough to wear as an everyday bag or it can be reserved for a special evening purse depending on the fabric that you choose
jillian is a spinster of 21 and his parents are desperate
jillian is really renee coulombe
jillian is seeking her son
jillian is our artist in residence
jillian is an eleven year old girl in sixth grade
jillian is truly an angel sent to us from god
jillian is being sought by fbi special agent alex cruz as a potential witness to two other murders
jillian is a dream come true
jillian is pregnant with twins
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Googlisms
Googlism for: jillian
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
And shall I pray Thee change Thy will Father,
Until it be according unto mine?
But no, Lord, no, that never shall be, rather
I pray Thee blend my human will with Thine.
I pray Thee hush the hurrying, eager longing,
I pray Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire--
See in my quiet places wishes thronging--
Forbid them, Lord, purge though it be with fire.
And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure
Let all within me, peaceful, satisfied,
Tarry content my Well-Beloved's leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child.
~Amy Carmichael
Until it be according unto mine?
But no, Lord, no, that never shall be, rather
I pray Thee blend my human will with Thine.
I pray Thee hush the hurrying, eager longing,
I pray Thee soothe the pangs of keen desire--
See in my quiet places wishes thronging--
Forbid them, Lord, purge though it be with fire.
And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure
Let all within me, peaceful, satisfied,
Tarry content my Well-Beloved's leisure,
At last, at last, even as a weaned child.
~Amy Carmichael
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Life at Masters...complete with pictures!
1.) Me and Alison at Disneyland
2.) Dennay studying in my room
3.) Dennay shaving Brandon's head
4.) Alison riding in the teacups
Just some random photos of things I've been up to lately--my roommate and I hung out at Disneyland (along with many others from TMC) last Saturday. She had never been and I've only been once, so we had a lot of fun acting like little kids! (My roommate is Alison, for those of you who don't know. She's 23 years old, from Wisconsin, and a business major.)
The other pictures are of normal life...yes, the shaving of heads has become normal...somewhat. I think there's something in the water because so many guys here are shaving their heads, and Dennay got to get in on the action the other day. It was pretty funny! (Dennay lives across the hall, and she's an 18 year old teacher education major from Texas, y'all.)
Thank you for viewing this episode of Jillian's photography, I hope you'll stop by again!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Coming Home
It rained today, and my heart was glad. It was the perfect kind of day for curling up with a cup of tea and a good book and then cooking up a delicious dinner and then lingering around the table with my family. And as I did none of these things but instead walked to the cafeteria for another styrofoam box of food, I did a little dance because in two short days I will be home again. I will be back to the green land of rain and ocean and mountains and, most of all, the people who I love so dearly.
I didn't realize all the little ways I would miss home, but it seems that every day I discover a new one. For example, there is a sad dearth of grocery stores that make good Chinese food here. The country roads race past brown fields and citrus orchards rather than the lushness with which I am familiar. But most of all, there is no Mom to debrief with after I get home from school, no Dad to make corny jokes at the dinner table, no big little brother to plague the life out of me, no little sisters to talk and play and laugh and dance with, no little brother to constantly amuse and amaze me. There are no lengthy Starbucks conversations (because I can no longer bear to linger at Starbucks), no virgin margaritas late at night, no picnics at Hovander, no cruising the streets of Bellingham, no softball games, no trips out to the lake, none of the things I used to enjoy with the friends who know me so well. A girl can make new friends, but when you've only known someone for two months, there's a whole large portion of their life that has yet to be filled in.
So I am excited to come home, to see the changes that have happened in me and others while I've been gone, and to see those things which have remained the same. It's only for a few short days, but what days they shall be!
I didn't realize all the little ways I would miss home, but it seems that every day I discover a new one. For example, there is a sad dearth of grocery stores that make good Chinese food here. The country roads race past brown fields and citrus orchards rather than the lushness with which I am familiar. But most of all, there is no Mom to debrief with after I get home from school, no Dad to make corny jokes at the dinner table, no big little brother to plague the life out of me, no little sisters to talk and play and laugh and dance with, no little brother to constantly amuse and amaze me. There are no lengthy Starbucks conversations (because I can no longer bear to linger at Starbucks), no virgin margaritas late at night, no picnics at Hovander, no cruising the streets of Bellingham, no softball games, no trips out to the lake, none of the things I used to enjoy with the friends who know me so well. A girl can make new friends, but when you've only known someone for two months, there's a whole large portion of their life that has yet to be filled in.
So I am excited to come home, to see the changes that have happened in me and others while I've been gone, and to see those things which have remained the same. It's only for a few short days, but what days they shall be!
Friday, October 14, 2005
An Anniversary
Can anyone guess what happened exactly a year ago today?
Give up?
It was my first post on this blog! Crazy huh?
It's been an intense year...and I'm glad that I have parts of it chronicled on this website. Sometimes I go back and read about what God has done and I'm overwhelmed. He's worked in my life in marvelous ways, and I feel priviledged as I see what He continues to do.
Here's to another year!
Give up?
It was my first post on this blog! Crazy huh?
It's been an intense year...and I'm glad that I have parts of it chronicled on this website. Sometimes I go back and read about what God has done and I'm overwhelmed. He's worked in my life in marvelous ways, and I feel priviledged as I see what He continues to do.
Here's to another year!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Special
1 Thessalonians 1:4 It is clear to us, friends, that God not only loves you very much but also has put his hand on you for something special. (The Message)
She fidgets nervously, her feet dancing over the broken sidewalk as we talk simply of the heat and weather.
We walk to the mini mart to buy her some Coca-Cola.
She shoots up.
She apologizes as I try to veil the devastation I feel for her, for the deep puncture marks on her legs that deliver her slow poison, for her life here on Skid Row.
She opens up her life to us, telling of the years in prison, of the excruciating heroin withdrawals, of the quick relapse into a cycle of drugs and prostitution.
I ask her how she plans to escape and her answer devastates me further: methadone. How is this an escape? We talk of how to find happiness. I've never searched for mine in drugs, but there are so many places I've looked for false happiness. We talk of how they end up to be empty, "broken cisterns which hold no water."
She knows where to find true happiness--as I speak of the unimaginable joy that is God, she tells me of her relationship with Him. She knows all I can tell her about Him, she's heard of His great deliverance from addictions of every sort, but tears fill her eyes as she explains that it's never worked for her.
And yet she has faith in His power..."It must work, I just haven't received the gift of healing from it yet."
And she talks of the trap that is prostitution, how girls get sucked into it. Her heart breaks for these girls just as mine does for her. This is the ministry she feels she ought to do, to get to these girls before their future is her present. But her relationship with God is not there yet. The heroin to dull the pain of prostitution has her firmly in its grasp. "I've seen what Satan does when you let him have the power."
These words of wisdom and conviction coming out of lips surrounded by blisters. This broken heart veiled behind the tough external.
We talk for hours...she seems content to pour her heart out on that broken street for us to love. She is reluctant to leave our conversation, and so are we. We long to keep her, to protect her, to continue to shower her with God's hope found in His unfailing love and powerful redemption.
But eventually we must leave this divine appointment, our broken hearts overflowing with emotion. We promise to pray for her addiction to be broken, for her to find a way off the streets. As I hug her, she says in my ear "I love you." And then we return, changed by this sweet and devastating encounter.
Her name is Special. And she covets your prayers.
She fidgets nervously, her feet dancing over the broken sidewalk as we talk simply of the heat and weather.
We walk to the mini mart to buy her some Coca-Cola.
She shoots up.
She apologizes as I try to veil the devastation I feel for her, for the deep puncture marks on her legs that deliver her slow poison, for her life here on Skid Row.
She opens up her life to us, telling of the years in prison, of the excruciating heroin withdrawals, of the quick relapse into a cycle of drugs and prostitution.
I ask her how she plans to escape and her answer devastates me further: methadone. How is this an escape? We talk of how to find happiness. I've never searched for mine in drugs, but there are so many places I've looked for false happiness. We talk of how they end up to be empty, "broken cisterns which hold no water."
She knows where to find true happiness--as I speak of the unimaginable joy that is God, she tells me of her relationship with Him. She knows all I can tell her about Him, she's heard of His great deliverance from addictions of every sort, but tears fill her eyes as she explains that it's never worked for her.
And yet she has faith in His power..."It must work, I just haven't received the gift of healing from it yet."
And she talks of the trap that is prostitution, how girls get sucked into it. Her heart breaks for these girls just as mine does for her. This is the ministry she feels she ought to do, to get to these girls before their future is her present. But her relationship with God is not there yet. The heroin to dull the pain of prostitution has her firmly in its grasp. "I've seen what Satan does when you let him have the power."
These words of wisdom and conviction coming out of lips surrounded by blisters. This broken heart veiled behind the tough external.
We talk for hours...she seems content to pour her heart out on that broken street for us to love. She is reluctant to leave our conversation, and so are we. We long to keep her, to protect her, to continue to shower her with God's hope found in His unfailing love and powerful redemption.
But eventually we must leave this divine appointment, our broken hearts overflowing with emotion. We promise to pray for her addiction to be broken, for her to find a way off the streets. As I hug her, she says in my ear "I love you." And then we return, changed by this sweet and devastating encounter.
Her name is Special. And she covets your prayers.
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