is supposedly when I'll find out about Wash U for sure one way or the other.
I finally broke down and called Arts and Sciences graduate admissions to ask if I could have a general idea of when applicants are notified of whether they are accepted. And mid-March was the answer. So, at least I can rest a little easier and have a ballpark idea of when I could expect to possibly hear something.
My supervisors are apparently convinced that I'm going to get in, though, because they are actively searching for my replacement. The headmaster assured me, though, that their preference is definitely to have me stay, and that no offers would be made to anyone until I know for sure about the status of my application. So, in other words, "We wanna keep you, but since you're probably going to bounce, don't feel like your position is in jeopardy while we're checking out other people." Fair enough. Actually, it's very gracious. I've been blessed to work at a great place with very supportive people.
I, however, just can't bring myself to feel so confident that all will work out the way I want it to. I can't be so presumptuous as to think that I have this in the bag. And even when/if I do get that acceptance letter, there's still the issue of whether I'm granted this particular fellowship that would pay for everything and more. One thing is for sure, though, (and this wasn't always my resolve) even if super full-ride fellowship doesn't work out, I'm still going. There are other financial options within the department (teaching assistantships, etc.), and if it came down to it, I wouldn't be the first one to work her way through school, or rely on student loans.
So, still I wait, but at least with a general idea of when the answer will come.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Portable Sounds
Currently listening to: tobyMac's new CD Portable SoundsI love tobyMac. He's so . . . diverse. Hip-hop/rock/reggae swirl. His message is so positive. He always makes a point to talk about racial unity among God's people, and that's hot. I originally super wanted the CD because of the song "Meant to Love." But I've recently fallen in love with the whole CD. Every song is good. And I don't normally say that about CDs. But there is one song that sticks out to me called "Suddenly." I won't post all the lyrics, just the bridge and the chorus, but I love this song because sometimes that's how I feel about what God is going to do with me. I'll be walking along, steadily doing my thing, trying to go where He leads, and then, suddenly, BAM! God rocks my world.
Bridge:
Sometimes it's in an instant
Sometimes we wait for years
But it comes down to the moment when faith eclipses fear
Your wandering is over
The other side is real
You've broken through
Your mountain moved
And mercy is revealed
His mercy is revealed, yeah
Chorus:
And suddenly all of it's behind you
And I'm here to remind you
That yesterday is gone so say goodbye
And suddenly the skies open above you
And someone really loves you
Now everything's alive . . . everything's alive
Sometimes it's in an instant
Sometimes we wait for years
But it comes down to the moment when faith eclipses fear
Your wandering is over
The other side is real
You've broken through
Your mountain moved
And mercy is revealed
His mercy is revealed, yeah
Chorus:
And suddenly all of it's behind you
And I'm here to remind you
That yesterday is gone so say goodbye
And suddenly the skies open above you
And someone really loves you
Now everything's alive . . . everything's alive
Thursday, February 22, 2007
To the Happy Me
Dear Happy Me,
What's up, girl? I missed you so much! That depressed, brooding chick is out of control. Seriously, she was really starting to wear on me. She was doing weird stuff like crying all the time, sleeping 24/7, and eating cake for dinner. Thank God you came back. Somehow, I knew you would. But then again, you always do. What was I thinking? Anyway, it's always such a relief when you finally show up, no matter how long the wait. But hey, welcome back!
Love ya,
Just Me
What's up, girl? I missed you so much! That depressed, brooding chick is out of control. Seriously, she was really starting to wear on me. She was doing weird stuff like crying all the time, sleeping 24/7, and eating cake for dinner. Thank God you came back. Somehow, I knew you would. But then again, you always do. What was I thinking? Anyway, it's always such a relief when you finally show up, no matter how long the wait. But hey, welcome back!
Love ya,
Just Me
Monday, February 19, 2007
No Details
No details are necessary, really. I'll just start out by saying this: I hate how being single is starting to affect every breath I take. Perhaps I'm exaggerating. No, I am. But honestly, I'm really trying to do my thing and not worry about it. Why did I even write the word 'worry'? Why does it even enter my mind when I ponder my life as a Miss? I wonder if the view I think others have of me is actually just the view I have of myself.
Moving on. Secondly, I really question myself. On one hand, I semi-complain that I'm on this desert island, in this box, no one around to see the me that is bursting to get out. But then when someone puts himself out there, sincerely, letting me know that he does see the me, wanting to know if I'm willing, could I possibly . . . I slam the door before it's even open a crack. What is up with that? I'd like to think that it's because I know what I want. Or is it that I think I know what I don't want? Or is it that I'm just being stubborn and have an unrealistic idea of how these things are supposed to be?
And on. Thirdly, the perceived pressure. This (married) dude told me a dream that he had about me, for reasons unbeknownst to all creation, that, in short, I was so caught up in my career that I never made time for a man in my life and that he woke up from the dream right after I said that I was tired of life, lonely, and wanted to take own my life. Maybe it's just a silly dream, but I was concerned about you, sister. I was thinking to myself, you're such a great girl and you have a lot to offer a man . . . I was thinking in my dream, why don't you want to settle down? Good googly moogly, dude. Why did it enter your subconscious during REM sleep that I would get so caught up in my "career" that I would eschew all hope of Mr. Right, kids, et. al.? I didn't think I gave out an I-don't-need-a-man vibe. But neither am I giving out a damsel-in-distress vibe. Do I have to act like I want to be rescued? Please say it ain't so.
And still on. Fourthly, connected to the perceived pressure, is a chunk of the force behind my door slamming. I don't want to enter into something just because. Hey, I'm here. I wear a skirt. Hey, you're here, you wear pants. How 'bout it? Though the pants/skirt resignation was not the situation at hand, it still remains that I can't do something because I fear ending up like I was in old dude's dream if I don't. I fear more trying to make something happen that will ultimately fail. I fear hurting someone worse than I would with my door slamming by giving them false hope with unsure, hazy words, only to have to slam the door anyway on down the road because I should have realized from the get go that I could not will myself to feel. If you know that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream is not what you crave, why would you mull over the prospect of eating it just because strawberry cheesecake (with a graham cracker ribbon) is not readily available?
And further on. Fifthly, I feel awful. I feel like an ungrateful, stiff, conflicted, self-absorbed little door-slammer. I hate feeling the need to cushion the bottom line with explanations. The honest reasons appear as half-baked excuses once they leave my mouth. I hate being the cause of hurt. It seems like all I've done lately when it comes to my desire for someone to see the me is slam doors. I can't think of one instance where someone claimed to see the me and I didn't ultimately slam the door. Perhaps some doors will get slammed in my face sometime to even the score? Well . . . I will admit there was a time or two that I sat pining by a wall, hoping that a door would somehow appear, but we all know how likely that was to happen.
Yikes. I can't end this on such a downer. The day that I swing the door open to someone without reservation will be a grand one indeed.
Moving on. Secondly, I really question myself. On one hand, I semi-complain that I'm on this desert island, in this box, no one around to see the me that is bursting to get out. But then when someone puts himself out there, sincerely, letting me know that he does see the me, wanting to know if I'm willing, could I possibly . . . I slam the door before it's even open a crack. What is up with that? I'd like to think that it's because I know what I want. Or is it that I think I know what I don't want? Or is it that I'm just being stubborn and have an unrealistic idea of how these things are supposed to be?
And on. Thirdly, the perceived pressure. This (married) dude told me a dream that he had about me, for reasons unbeknownst to all creation, that, in short, I was so caught up in my career that I never made time for a man in my life and that he woke up from the dream right after I said that I was tired of life, lonely, and wanted to take own my life. Maybe it's just a silly dream, but I was concerned about you, sister. I was thinking to myself, you're such a great girl and you have a lot to offer a man . . . I was thinking in my dream, why don't you want to settle down? Good googly moogly, dude. Why did it enter your subconscious during REM sleep that I would get so caught up in my "career" that I would eschew all hope of Mr. Right, kids, et. al.? I didn't think I gave out an I-don't-need-a-man vibe. But neither am I giving out a damsel-in-distress vibe. Do I have to act like I want to be rescued? Please say it ain't so.
And still on. Fourthly, connected to the perceived pressure, is a chunk of the force behind my door slamming. I don't want to enter into something just because. Hey, I'm here. I wear a skirt. Hey, you're here, you wear pants. How 'bout it? Though the pants/skirt resignation was not the situation at hand, it still remains that I can't do something because I fear ending up like I was in old dude's dream if I don't. I fear more trying to make something happen that will ultimately fail. I fear hurting someone worse than I would with my door slamming by giving them false hope with unsure, hazy words, only to have to slam the door anyway on down the road because I should have realized from the get go that I could not will myself to feel. If you know that chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream is not what you crave, why would you mull over the prospect of eating it just because strawberry cheesecake (with a graham cracker ribbon) is not readily available?
And further on. Fifthly, I feel awful. I feel like an ungrateful, stiff, conflicted, self-absorbed little door-slammer. I hate feeling the need to cushion the bottom line with explanations. The honest reasons appear as half-baked excuses once they leave my mouth. I hate being the cause of hurt. It seems like all I've done lately when it comes to my desire for someone to see the me is slam doors. I can't think of one instance where someone claimed to see the me and I didn't ultimately slam the door. Perhaps some doors will get slammed in my face sometime to even the score? Well . . . I will admit there was a time or two that I sat pining by a wall, hoping that a door would somehow appear, but we all know how likely that was to happen.
Yikes. I can't end this on such a downer. The day that I swing the door open to someone without reservation will be a grand one indeed.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
A Final Twist
Ah, dear readers. I thought my Valentine's Day was over. I thought that it would end with an upbeat, contemporary version of "Touching Jesus," courtesy of choir practice, lingering in my mind, lulling me to sleep. But not so.
A very tasteful, not over-the-top, and quite well-received gift of a single long-stemmed red rose and a box of chocolates was cleverly smuggled into my car by a not-so-secret admirer after church tonight. Before I got into my car on the way home, there they lay on the driver's seat, pleasantly surprising me.
Not-so-secret admirer, if you're reading this (and I know you are), thank you. :-)
A very tasteful, not over-the-top, and quite well-received gift of a single long-stemmed red rose and a box of chocolates was cleverly smuggled into my car by a not-so-secret admirer after church tonight. Before I got into my car on the way home, there they lay on the driver's seat, pleasantly surprising me.
Not-so-secret admirer, if you're reading this (and I know you are), thank you. :-)
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Flogued?
First of all, Happy Valentine's Day to all! So far, I've gotten a box of chocolates, a bag of candy, a heart-shaped container of M&M's and various little paper valentines from my students. I also received a dinner invitation. But, faithful ol' gal that I am, where shall I be tonight? At church, and afterwards, choir practice. lol! (The dinner shall be postponed until Saturday.)
But I also wanted to reflect on an uber-bizarre dream I had last night. I guess this isn't uncommon . . . most of my dreams seem to be uber-bizarre. I dreamt that we (I don't know who all "we" includes) were on our way home from an Atlanta Braves game. I don't even watch baseball and am so sports clueless, but anyway, this is my dream. So we come to this little stand/convenience store and we're hungry. They supposedly sell hotdogs, and I want one really badly. I remember wanting a chili dog with cheese and all of the fixins. The cashier girl remarks to me, "Wow, looks like we've got a lot of people coming after the game. We are totally flogued." (The last word is pronounced "FLOW-gd." I spelled it that way because it would rhyme with 'vogue' if it were in the present tense.) She says this flippantly, with a valley girl-like accent. I asked her if I could have a chili dog with everything on it. She frowns. "I think we might be out of those." She asks this guy in the back if they had any more, and he says no. She comes back to me with a snobbish smirk on her face and says, "Sorry, we're out. Looks like you're flogued." I remember wanting to slap her, but I woke up.
Yes, I am still obssessed with One Night with the King. I know it was not Oscar worthy or anything, but I've read quite a few postive comments on the costume design, score, and cinematography. Anyway, I would reign alongside Xerxes 'til kingdom come. (No pun intended.) Don't you dare criticize his eyeliner or his hair, either. He was supposed to be the king of Persia, OK? (I was watching this with a 4-year-old a while ago and she said of the king, "That's Jesus." lol!)
But I also wanted to reflect on an uber-bizarre dream I had last night. I guess this isn't uncommon . . . most of my dreams seem to be uber-bizarre. I dreamt that we (I don't know who all "we" includes) were on our way home from an Atlanta Braves game. I don't even watch baseball and am so sports clueless, but anyway, this is my dream. So we come to this little stand/convenience store and we're hungry. They supposedly sell hotdogs, and I want one really badly. I remember wanting a chili dog with cheese and all of the fixins. The cashier girl remarks to me, "Wow, looks like we've got a lot of people coming after the game. We are totally flogued." (The last word is pronounced "FLOW-gd." I spelled it that way because it would rhyme with 'vogue' if it were in the present tense.) She says this flippantly, with a valley girl-like accent. I asked her if I could have a chili dog with everything on it. She frowns. "I think we might be out of those." She asks this guy in the back if they had any more, and he says no. She comes back to me with a snobbish smirk on her face and says, "Sorry, we're out. Looks like you're flogued." I remember wanting to slap her, but I woke up.
This seemingly made up word, 'flogue,' lingered in my head. Where did it come from? I did a google search, and found that it is indeed a fabrication, a figment of my imagination. Why did I dream about an imaginary word? What could the word mean, even in the dream? In the first instance, the girl used it almost as "overwhelmed." But in the second sense, she used it as "out of luck." I've been thinking of a satisfactory definition of this imaginary word that could satisfy both instances. I haven't come up with anything convincing yet.
And lastly, yet completely unrelated, I dare you to tell me you would not want to be crowned queen by this guy (unless you are reading this and you are a guy, then I'd understand):
Yes, I am still obssessed with One Night with the King. I know it was not Oscar worthy or anything, but I've read quite a few postive comments on the costume design, score, and cinematography. Anyway, I would reign alongside Xerxes 'til kingdom come. (No pun intended.) Don't you dare criticize his eyeliner or his hair, either. He was supposed to be the king of Persia, OK? (I was watching this with a 4-year-old a while ago and she said of the king, "That's Jesus." lol!)
Monday, February 12, 2007
Interestingly Enough . . .
- The hit show Wife Swap is featuring an A/P (Apostolic Pentecostal) family who swaps with a family of aspiring punk rockers the next episode! It comes on this Monday 8 p.m. Eastern/ 7 p.m. Central Time on ABC. Not only has Ninetyandnine.com been granted an interview with the A/P family participating (which will go live in this week's issue), but will blog a review directly after the show on Collideoscope. Everyone with at least $0.02 is invited to weigh in!
- People are still leaving comments on my post "UPC on Borat?" which reflected on the whole deal with A/Ps being made light of in the Borat movie. Some insightful, some cynical, but all interesting.
- I have a "date" on Valentine's Day. Well, whaddya know? ;-)
Friday, February 09, 2007
You Just Wanna Help
I'm guilty of it too. In this department, I am probably the chiefest of sinners. You want to "help," but you come off (albeit quite unknowingly) condescendingly.
I feel awful writing that. Just imagine, you think you've done someone a favor, what you meant as a kind gesture, what you saw as an encouragement. You just wanted someone to know that you cared, that they were loved. Yet, in spite of all of the good intentions, you unintentionally brushed up against their "issue." You were trying to say, "I'm behind you in spite of (or maybe because of?) it," but you ended up saying, "I know what your sad problem is. It's obvious."
It's just that this time, I'm on the receiving end. Surprise, surprise.
I blame me. Honestly, people with good intentions shouldn't be at fault. They're trying their best to show love. The problem lies in the way it was received, hence the burden falls on the receiver. Nevertheless, it's unnerving to feel perceived as an object of pity. It makes one feel weak, exposed, ashamed, less than, beneath. But I still blame me.
Step one is dealing with the issue, right? But it's not something I nurse, hesitate to let go of for fear of the unfamiliar. In fact, I try to fling it off of me, each time it lands on me like a wet bat. But I'm powerless to completely shoo it away. And it's frustrating, rather than comforting, that other people notice it fluttering its webby wings around me, and even call my attention to it while I'm trying to let go of things I have no control over.
I know. I should get over it and be thankful that there are people who love me. I am. And in the end, I know that is what matters.
I feel awful writing that. Just imagine, you think you've done someone a favor, what you meant as a kind gesture, what you saw as an encouragement. You just wanted someone to know that you cared, that they were loved. Yet, in spite of all of the good intentions, you unintentionally brushed up against their "issue." You were trying to say, "I'm behind you in spite of (or maybe because of?) it," but you ended up saying, "I know what your sad problem is. It's obvious."
It's just that this time, I'm on the receiving end. Surprise, surprise.
I blame me. Honestly, people with good intentions shouldn't be at fault. They're trying their best to show love. The problem lies in the way it was received, hence the burden falls on the receiver. Nevertheless, it's unnerving to feel perceived as an object of pity. It makes one feel weak, exposed, ashamed, less than, beneath. But I still blame me.
Step one is dealing with the issue, right? But it's not something I nurse, hesitate to let go of for fear of the unfamiliar. In fact, I try to fling it off of me, each time it lands on me like a wet bat. But I'm powerless to completely shoo it away. And it's frustrating, rather than comforting, that other people notice it fluttering its webby wings around me, and even call my attention to it while I'm trying to let go of things I have no control over.
I know. I should get over it and be thankful that there are people who love me. I am. And in the end, I know that is what matters.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
God Answers
On Sunday I wrote, "God, let this week be a week of answers."
Sometimes I wish I could hear the audible voice of God. I know someone who told me that once she heard Him call her name. "What did it sound like?" She couldn't put it into words.
Sometimes I think things would be so much easier if we could just have a normal human conversation with Him. Just to be able to ask Him stuff, and He answer directly, distinctly, in an audible, understandable voice. That would be so awesome. But I guess it would also be too easy. Knowing humans, if we were able to communicate so directly with Him, we'd probably start to take His voice for granted. It seems that God doesn't usually just put Himself out there for the taking. Like free mints in the little basket on your way out of Applebee's. He seems to want people to seek Him out.
Sometimes I think we make things too complicated, though. Okay, I make things too complicated. Here I am, willing an answer from Him, when the "answer" is in my hands. If I'd just take the time to read it. Let me back up. We can communicate directly with God. It's called prayer. I went to prayer at church tonight, and before I could leave, I felt led to read the psalm next on my little "read the Bible through in a year" chart (which I never accomplish in a year, but the little charts do help you map your progress regardless of how long it takes). It was Psalm 37. Was it an answer? These verses stuck out to me:
Psa 37:3 Trust in the LORD, and do good; [so] shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Psa 37:4 Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Psa 37:5 Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring [it] to pass. Psa 37:6 And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.Psa 37:7 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.
It felt like He was saying, "Stop trying to force an answer. Will you take it easy? Trust me. Wait on me. I will bring it to pass. I got you, girl."
Okay, God, I'm sorry. I really am trying to chill. (sigh) And I wait.
Sometimes I wish I could hear the audible voice of God. I know someone who told me that once she heard Him call her name. "What did it sound like?" She couldn't put it into words.
Sometimes I think things would be so much easier if we could just have a normal human conversation with Him. Just to be able to ask Him stuff, and He answer directly, distinctly, in an audible, understandable voice. That would be so awesome. But I guess it would also be too easy. Knowing humans, if we were able to communicate so directly with Him, we'd probably start to take His voice for granted. It seems that God doesn't usually just put Himself out there for the taking. Like free mints in the little basket on your way out of Applebee's. He seems to want people to seek Him out.
Sometimes I think we make things too complicated, though. Okay, I make things too complicated. Here I am, willing an answer from Him, when the "answer" is in my hands. If I'd just take the time to read it. Let me back up. We can communicate directly with God. It's called prayer. I went to prayer at church tonight, and before I could leave, I felt led to read the psalm next on my little "read the Bible through in a year" chart (which I never accomplish in a year, but the little charts do help you map your progress regardless of how long it takes). It was Psalm 37. Was it an answer? These verses stuck out to me:
Psa 37:3 Trust in the LORD, and do good; [so] shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Psa 37:4 Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Psa 37:5 Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring [it] to pass. Psa 37:6 And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.Psa 37:7 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.
It felt like He was saying, "Stop trying to force an answer. Will you take it easy? Trust me. Wait on me. I will bring it to pass. I got you, girl."
Okay, God, I'm sorry. I really am trying to chill. (sigh) And I wait.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Blur
It's been over a week since I've blogged last. How did that happen? It's not like I'm living this fast-paced, crazy life. In fact, it's been totally, utterly routine. No complaints, though. Routine is not bad, necessarily.
No more updates from Wash U so far . . . the suspense is killing me softly.
I had another teary-eyed time tonight after some dear ones that are "moving on" came over for dinner. (sigh) It is just not going to be the same without them. As much as I'm for change and growth, it stinks. Yeah, transition and I have this love-hate relationship going on.
Last night I watched One Night with the King. It was so lovely. Esther is gorgeous and the king is hot. In a fiercely handsome kind of way. It made me want to be in love. Being chosen as a queen wouldn't be bad, either. But reading the book of Esther, I never understood why Esther was all freaking out over going before the king. I know if he didn't hold out his scepter, she'd get killed, but I always thought, Okay, didn't he just choose you as his queen? Why would he all of a sudden be like, "Away with you!" But in the movie, some realistic tension evolves between them and it gives a believable reason as to why Esther would be afraid to come before him. It made me see more than ever before what a brave thing she did to save her people. If I perish, I perish. Go 'head, girl.
I cannot wait until the new TobyMac album comes out. That song "Made to Love" refuses to exit my head:
The dream is fading, now I'm staring at the door
I know its over cause my feet have hit the cold floor
Check my reflection, I ain't feelin what I see
It's no mystery
Whatever happened to a passion I could live for?
What became of the flame that made me feel more?
And when did I forget that . . .
Chorus:
I was made to love you
I was made to find you
I was made just for you
Made to adore you
I was made to love
And be loved by you
You were here before me
You were waiting on me
And you said you'd keep me
Never would you leave me
I was made to love
And be loved by you
The dream's alive with my eyes opened wide
Back in the ring you've got me swinging for the grand prize
I feel the haters spittin vapors on my dreams
But I still believe
I'm reachin out, reachin up, reachin over
I feel a breeze cover me called Jehovah
And Daddy I'm on my way
Cause I was made to love . . .
No more updates from Wash U so far . . . the suspense is killing me softly.
I had another teary-eyed time tonight after some dear ones that are "moving on" came over for dinner. (sigh) It is just not going to be the same without them. As much as I'm for change and growth, it stinks. Yeah, transition and I have this love-hate relationship going on.
Last night I watched One Night with the King. It was so lovely. Esther is gorgeous and the king is hot. In a fiercely handsome kind of way. It made me want to be in love. Being chosen as a queen wouldn't be bad, either. But reading the book of Esther, I never understood why Esther was all freaking out over going before the king. I know if he didn't hold out his scepter, she'd get killed, but I always thought, Okay, didn't he just choose you as his queen? Why would he all of a sudden be like, "Away with you!" But in the movie, some realistic tension evolves between them and it gives a believable reason as to why Esther would be afraid to come before him. It made me see more than ever before what a brave thing she did to save her people. If I perish, I perish. Go 'head, girl.
I cannot wait until the new TobyMac album comes out. That song "Made to Love" refuses to exit my head:
The dream is fading, now I'm staring at the door
I know its over cause my feet have hit the cold floor
Check my reflection, I ain't feelin what I see
It's no mystery
Whatever happened to a passion I could live for?
What became of the flame that made me feel more?
And when did I forget that . . .
Chorus:
I was made to love you
I was made to find you
I was made just for you
Made to adore you
I was made to love
And be loved by you
You were here before me
You were waiting on me
And you said you'd keep me
Never would you leave me
I was made to love
And be loved by you
The dream's alive with my eyes opened wide
Back in the ring you've got me swinging for the grand prize
I feel the haters spittin vapors on my dreams
But I still believe
I'm reachin out, reachin up, reachin over
I feel a breeze cover me called Jehovah
And Daddy I'm on my way
Cause I was made to love . . .
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