I am always listening.  Even when I don’t understand the words you use, I hear you speak, and I will remember.  What you say is important, but how you say it is what I will imitate.  When I am you.

The numbers on your ballot don’t matter to me.  I don’t care how many trophies you get or how many medals hang around your neck.  I’m human, too, and I will face success and failure—maybe one more than the other.  No one will care in a few years, will they?

Sometimes, I laugh a little when I see you so caught up in the temporal.  It makes me wonder–do you realize that I am here?  Do you understand the weight of your own words?  Your own attitudes?  Your own actions?  Anyone can smile on a stage, holding a trophy.  But I see so much more.  I see it all.  I hear it all.  I will remember those of you who impact me.

Who am I?

I’m that kid making noise in the hallway while you compete.  I’m the one you don’t really notice because I’m too young to understand what you mean.  I’m the timer who doodles during your constructive.  I am the audience.  I am the world.  I’m a few years behind you, or maybe a decade, or maybe close to two—and one day, I will be you.  I will be speaking, and others will listen.  What will I say?

I am the future.  And I am listening.

I don’t have many words to describe the 2010 regional tournament.  In some ways, it was a pretty normal tournament—all the running around and fabulous friends and uncomfortable shoes.  But then, there were so many different things.  It all went so far above my expectations that I can’t even begin to describe it.

A year and a half ago, I posted about weakness.  A few things have changed since then—speaking doesn’t scare me anymore, and I’ve learned that there are worse things in life than participating in a debate round.  But one thing will always be the same: I’m just Beth.  I mess up, I stumble over words, I have illogical arguments, and I need all the help I can get.

That’s how I know that whatever artificial success I achieve on the outside…is all because of Christ’s success on the inside.

Talk about amazing!

Unfortunately, the actual tournament wasn’t very well documented…I guess I just found too many other things to do aside from take pictures.  But I put together a slideshow of our adventures on the trip there and back, so for all you interested people, here you go:

Then I stop.  And laugh.  And realize how ridiculous that is.

What would a blog be without a life behind it, anyway?

Snowfall in Texas?  Major news story.

All that to say, my life is keeping me rather busy lately.  Hayden and Ruth have been with us for more than three weeks now—isn’t that amazing?  It’s hard to get into a routine, but we’re managing somehow.  Hayden has settled in to pretty much everything except eating.  Apparently he likes McDonalds, but not much else.  Ruth is popular wherever she goes, and not surprisingly—that child continues to astound me with her adorableness.

Speech and debate is much the same as usual.  Still fun, still busy, still amazing.  In less than two weeks, we head to New Mexico for our last qualifier of the year.  I’m looking forward to a fabulous tournament…not to mention a pretty epically long car trip.

It’s cold and white.  What is this stuff?

Next week, my sister has her first photography gig shooting a wedding out of town.  I get to be the backup photographer.  That means I get to spend the next few days learning the ins and outs of my borrowed Canon 30d.

There’s also this thing called school work, but we won’t talk about that.

What can I say?  Life is in the way.  But I’m cool with that.

There are so many good things!

For me, tournaments are tiring on the outside, but incredibly rejuvenating on the inside.  Through this magnifying glass, all of God’s blessings, big and small, show up in all sorts of different ways.  Maybe that’s through awards, or maybe it’s through a conversation in the hall, or meeting new people, or learning to trust him all the more.  Whatever it is, it’s truly amazing.  And being with other people who see and are thankful for those blessings is even more amazing.

My first thought about the National Open last week is that it was a tournament filled with ups and downs.  Really, though, it was a tournament filled with ups, and smaller ups.  In competition, it’s easy to look at what God has blessed you with, and then compare it with someone else’s blessing—but why do we have to look at it as something relative?

If you had told me before the tournament that I would compete in speech finals for Persuasive, I would have been overjoyed.  That was just too far beyond my expectations.  But when it happens, and I go into the round to give my speech for those five judges, my standards suddenly get a little higher.  Instead of realizing how amazingly blessed I am just to be there, it gets a whole lot easier to worry about the outcome.

Human reasoning tells me to be just a little disappointed at getting third place—one rank below what would have qualified me directly to Nationals.

Reality says that I have been given more than I could ever possibly deserve.  And that is amazing.

On a less personal note, ARC has done it again and completely blown me away with its awesomeness.  So much talent, and so many blessings!  Thank you, God!

(Pictures courtesy of Toni)

This past week was a milestone in the world of speech and debate, with our first ever qualifying tournament of 2010.  It was spectacular.  Need I say more? (And, yes.  For those of you wondering as to my excuse for blatant bloggy abandonment, speech and debate is the best one I’ve got.)

Pictures courtesy of Toni:

Posing with the 2010 January Warmup apologetics champion, who also happens to be a lovely friend of mine.

More lovely friends! (Josie, this one’s for you.)

Funny guys (who also happen to be really awesome debaters).

Hannah celebrated her 18th birthday at the tournament.  Pictured are two pretty awesome gals.

Flowing outrounds.  Go ARC!

Slightly hyper?

More fantastic debaters!

Waiting on the awards ceremony, and getting just a tad bit crazy on Mountain Dew.  Or maybe that was just me.

ARC at the end of a very awesome tournament.  Congratulations, all of you!

Happy debaters—and a happy debate coach!

Former partners, turned LDers.

These guys…well, they had lots of fun.  Maybe more fun than should be humanly possible.

Danielle and Christina, two loverly ladies.

It’s just kinda fun to scare people with the Maisano/Morgan name.  (The initial fear doesn’t usually last long, but oh well.)

Afterward, we went out for dinner and checked out ballots.  Fun stuff.

So, it was a good day.  Full of friends and debates and candy and pizza and all sorts of awesome things.  What could be better?

(For those of you wondering about NaNoWriMo…no, I’m not giving up just yet.  Yes, the word count widget on the right is accurate.  It’s so much more fun to make an epic comeback in the last week…right?)

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And that’s pretty much what we did on Saturday.

But aside from saving the world, we also had a fun, exhausting, and even educational experience, teachers and students alike.  Personally, this was the first debate workshop I’ve attended of my own free will.  Two years ago, I was dragged in kicking and screaming.  Last year, I managed to stay home, little knowing that somehow I’d end up debating all season long, anyway.

This year, I wound up teaching people who may or may not be in the same position I was in not so long ago.  Ironic, no?

I had a good time.  Who wouldn’t enjoy eating candy, throwing lego bricks, and talking about killer ninja monkeys?

Well…maybe you shouldn’t answer that question.

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In any case, I’m excited about the year ahead.  Not for the competition’s sake…that can be fun, mixed in with all the stress, but it’s really not what makes me so happy to be back.  But…wow.  You wouldn’t believe the amazing people I’m honored to hang out with once a week.

God is doing amazing things with the Austin Rhetoric Club.

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Such is the case with a certain activity in my life.  A few years ago, speech and debate was the bane of my existence.  It meant either a) lots of babysitting during club meetings and tournaments, or b) attending said club meetings and tournaments and suffering acutely all the way through.  Participating was not an option, so I spent my time watching kids on the playground and reading books.  It was misery.

Last year, with a good deal of shoving, I suddenly found myself immersed in everything I’d assured myself I hated.  I couldn’t speak in public.  I couldn’t debate.  And I most certainly wouldn’t do this of my own choosing.  And for while, most of it was true.  But somewhere along the line, things began to change.

It wasn’t the speech and debate that changed my mind.  There was no sudden enlightenment, no realization that I loved speaking to a panel of judges.  Instead, there was the gradual understanding that I liked these people—I loved these people.

Attending a four-day tournament with a group of people is bound to bring you closer.  Between nerves, a grueling schedule, and results that are both disappointing and exciting, you just don’t leave the same way you came.  It’s hard.  But it becomes something incredible.

For me, tournament season is over.  Tomorrow night, my club will have its final meeting until next year.  And for the first time, that makes me sad.  It’s not that all of it was enjoyable—it wasn’t.  But I would do it all again in a heartbeat.  I’ve learned that it isn’t such a big deal to open your mouth and speak, and the friends along the way are worth everything else.

I was wrong…but I never could have imagined a more pleasant surprise.

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