Building from the ground up

I'm tired of hearing people say that we need to elect Christians to make this country better again. I'm tired of hearing that we need to pass laws to take back the country. I'm tired of the idea that the government should be in charge of our morality.

Let's face it: whether you want the government to ensure that you will have a steady paycheck or whether you want the government to ensure that your morals will be the morals of the country, you are not accepting personal responsibility for your actions. If you call yourself a Christian and yet you do not teach your children the morals and values that you want your elected officials to possess, then how will your children vote when they are of age?

See, the beauty of democracy is that the people who get the most votes are elected. That means that whoever represents the opinions of the majority will be the one who gets to represent them. Simple, right? Well, no. We are up in arms because we have elected officials that don't uphold the moral code we live by but the fact is that obviously, the majority of the nation doesn't live by that moral code anymore or they wouldn't have elected these politicians. Is that the government's fault? No. That is our fault as Christians for not speaking truth to our families, our friends and, ultimately, our communities. It is no wonder that we are where we are... we have been slacking.

Ponder the fact that 50% of marriages end in divorce. The percentage is HIGHER in the church. Is it a wonder that the sanctity of marriage is not being upheld in the law?

Whose job is it to preach the gospel? Mine. Yours. Not the government.

I'm not against Christian lawmakers. Quite the opposite. I wish that everyone in Congress was a Christ follower. But the only way that will happen is if the majority of the people voting are also Christ followers who make it a priority to care enough about the salvation status of those they are electing. We cannot expect to get someone great into office by fluke. We have to start by believing the TRUTH so deeply that we cannot help but want others to hear and believe it too. If we do that, then the problems that we are encountering in this world will diminish not because our elected officials pass laws, mandates or issue proclamations but because the majority of the nation is living by the Truth of Jesus Christ, who has set us free from the sin and filth of the world.

It cannot be left to our elected officials to CHANGE anything. Only God can change the hearts of man. And believe me, the root of the problems in this world is the sinful heart of man.

Wait Patiently on the Lord

Oooh... Patience.

Tonight I feel like I am pining away for nothing. And so, Psalm 27 swoops in and God speaks clearly: "I love you. I am on your side. Wait for me. Seek me."

Though an army of depressing thoughts is on my left and an army of depressing feelings is on my right, I will keep my eyes on my God, my Savior. I will wait patiently for the Lord. Not only that, but I will pray for the patience that I lack to wait patiently!

Only God is big and wonderful enough to see me for who I really am and still want me.

Twelve

I told you earlier to get back to me when we were in single digits... well, it's not quite that yet, but it's getting CLOSE!

On this happy note, I thought I'd make a list of things that send me into orbit:

-A cup of coffee in the morning, poured into a specifically chosen cup, fitted to my mood

-Thunderstorms

-When Cami tells me she loves me

-Being curled up on the couch with a fire blazing

-When someone gives me a unique compliment

-Walks with my parents

-The feeling of packed sand beneath my toes when I'm standing on a beach at sunset

-70% cocoa chocolate bars

-A new journal

-Printing out a term paper and holding to my bosom like a newborn child

-The smell of vanilla brown sugar lotion from Bath and Body Works

-Getting a letter from my grandma

-The moment in the middle of exercising when I think, "I could do this for much longer!"

-When I open the Bible and the verse that I read is perfect for me at that exact moment

-An email, phone call, skype call, facebook message, facebook graffiti or any sort of communication from my boyfriend

-A big bowl of pasta; yum... carbs

-The smell of a campfire

-Waiting at the airport for someone to suddenly appear in sight

-Holding a plane ticket and a suitcase in my hand

-Watching people get married

-Babies giggling

-Water coloring

That is, in no way, a complete list. However, I think that sometimes, we have to make a point to think about the great things all around us. I may get down in the next few days but I want to have a place where I can come and read about the things that send me soaring.

A Brief Rant

I will now rant:

Drugs are not only killers, they are family ruiners, people ripper-aparters, friendship destroyers and frankly, the scourge of the Earth. Drugs manage to turn someone who was initially crushing on the cute cheerleader to someone who thinks that the most important thing in the world is getting his next high. They turn someone who used to tell her friends about foreign countries she wanted to visit to someone who won't call her friends back.

Addiction is synonymous with loss. It is the equivalent of trapped. Addicts are stripped of their lives, their families, their loves, their hopes and given, in return, nothing but pain.

I want to cry when I think about how much potential has gone unused because beautiful hearts, souls and minds that would have otherwise gone on to fulfill their God given potential, were stopped by a blossoming addiction. Who knows how many cures for disease, beautiful pieces of art, how much world changing music, paradigm shifting diplomacy has been flushed down the toilet because beautiful, intelligent, talented people got caught in an addiction.

My rant is over. It ends in sadness but not futility. This fight is not over. Recovery is possible. People may not be able to change, but God can change them.

Oh, the view from the 20's....

Do you ever look back on something and think, "How did I do that?!" Well, I'm feeling that right now as I look backwards to the day when I had 44 more days until I would see Kyle again. Now, it's only 26 (well, technically 26 in an hour and a half) and the view from the twenties is looking preeeetty good to me. Of course, get back to me when I'm in single digits and ask me how I'm doing then...

God is my refuge lately. He always has been, but there are just some times in your life that he becomes your hiding place. Sometimes, it's in the midst of crisis: I've been there. But other times, there's not a major crisis but you feel too weak to do it alone. I know that I am supposed to be depending on God for everything: I CAN'T do it alone. However, sometimes, that fact is more readily believed than at other times. Now, as I pray and miss and desperately try to stay in the present rather than aching for the future, I find that my greatest times of peace come when I'm in His arms. He hides me from all the fears and sadness that I am running from.

"Oh, no, you never let go, through the calm and through the storm! Oh, no, you never let go, every high and every low! Oh, no, you never let go, oh, you never let go of me!"

Matt Redman's song You Never Let Go was so encouraging to me today. I realized how much power I have on my side: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Your perfect love is casting out fear." My king is a conquering king...

Anyways, the view from the twenties is great. With each day that passes, I am learning more about me, more about him and most importantly, more about HIM. I'm so blessed. When I was interrogating Kyle the other day on Facebook chat, I asked him if he was happy. It took him a little while to answer but one thing he said in response made me think: "I am content and joyful in the Lord." I know that he may not be happy right now. I am not happy per say. I miss him terribly! But I am content and joyful in the Lord. And that's not on my own strength but with the strength and power of my conquering King, who has invited me and everyone else to his wedding feast!

Holy Holy HOLY

Okay... two main points for this post:

#1. My God is awesome and amazing and inspiring!

#2. So is my boyfriend.

This morning, I woke up and reached groggily for my computer which now sits on my bed, ready for me to check my email at any moment during the day or night. :) I didn't expect an email from Kyle because I had just gotten one on Sunday but there, in my inbox, was one from kbell. I immediately made myself comfortable so I could read in absolute peace and clicked with so much excitement.

It was a LONG email. I was getting used to pretty rushed ones (okay, so I've gotten 2 other ones) and to see that I would have to scroll was so exciting. Let's face it, it's the little things like that that make life happy. The email was encouraging in so many ways. I know it's stupid and probably a little selfish, but when he says he misses me, I feel so good. Maybe it's because it's hard for anyone to understand how I feel right now and knowing that he and I are in this thing together makes me feel not so lonely in my feelings.

He shared something amazing that I just want to scream from the rooftops. So here goes:

"We had a gospel meeting at the sight of a Hindu alter in front of fifty unbelievers. At least seven of them accepted the message in some way. I sang revelation song and played the guitar."

This would be really awesome by itself but I burst into tears when I saw which song he'd played because that is the song that I wept and worshiped and sang through tears on Sunday morning. All of a sudden, in a flash, I felt like Kyle and I were so near to one another and it was all thanks to God, who orchestrates things in the strangest ways. Sunday, I'm helping to lead worship singing Revelation Song and then Monday, Kyle is leading worship and singing the same song. I am, to quote that very song,

"Filled with wonder, awestruck wonder at the mention of Your name. Jesus, Your name is power, breath and living water! Such a marvelous mystery!"

When I was praying this morning, I felt so close to Him and to him. See, that's the beauty of a relationship that has Jesus at the center. You are never that far from the other person because God is the tie that is between you and He is so very present and binds us together.

Seek Him. It's the best thing you could ever do with your life.

Thunderstorm Musings

Well, what a fabulous day! It never ceases to amaze me how God seems to know just how to romance me. Yesterday was difficult for me. I missed Kyle so much and I didn't really feel like the day would ever end. But it did, and when I woke up this morning- wide awake at 6:45- I knew that today was going to kick yesterday's butt. :)

Brianna and I drove to Helen early this morning and made the trek up to the bottom of Anna Ruby Falls. We were walking so fast up the trail (which was steeper than I thought and ended up being a good little exercise) that this older couple who were on their way down starting cheering us on and said, "You girls must be in much better shape than us!" That made me giggle. When we got to the base of the falls, we sat down on the beautiful wooden benches that line the whole viewing area and just talked for an hour or so. There was a slight mist from the waterfall and we got to do some extreme people watching. There were the requisite moms who had taken their little ones on a day trip and then the families who were obviously on vacation (think camera bags, Hawaiian shirts and sunscreen) and then there were the fun ones (think 70 year old woman with the skin of a well worn saddle and heavily penciled in eyebrows wearing only a beach cover up which showed off her voluminous thighs). We even got a close up examination of many of these people because we became the resident family photographers for the entire tourist population. We just couldn't sit by and let people try to utilize the timers on their camera.

We finally decided to pack it up. Strangely enough, on the way back down we were told by another elderly couple to be careful going so fast. I quote: "Your feet might not keep up with your head and you'll (miming rolling down the mountain with his hands)..." I assured him we would be fine and kept power walking. We then ate lunch at my favorite place to eat a sandwich ever: The Market . Brianna commented on how I was a good decision maker because I ordered so quickly but I assured her that the only reason that was possible was the fact that I woke up dreaming of the chicken salad on veggie bread that I was going to eat. It's the only thing I've ever had there!

When we got back to my house, there was an email for each of us waiting from Kyle and Brett. Short emails, yes, but so encouraging. We hadn't heard anything from them personally since they have been gone and I was worried about actually getting an email... I'm not sure what I was worried about- maybe that he would feel pressured to write or that he was come across as being unhappy. But there was an abundance of smiley faces which made me giggle and I blushed twice while reading it. I read it over and over again and in some ways, it's nice to have gotten an email instead of a phone call because it lasts a little longer. But I miss hearing his voice.

No matter how many ways I try to mold the amount of days left into different conglomerations, it always ends up seeming long. I mean, in weeks, days, fortnights- just long. Brianna definitely wins the prize for most creative idea: "Why don't we just count down the days left in June and then we'll count down the days in July when we get there?" The idea was sound: two smaller numbers instead of one bigger one. But I don't know about the whole starting a new countdown in July. But if we swing it her way, we have 15 more days in June and 23 more days in July.

Or.... they will be home in 38 days. Just simply being out of the forties is relieving. Forty five days sounded endless. But it isn't. And even though some days have dragged on, the sun continues to set. Every single gosh darn day, that thing dips back below the horizon and goes I don't even know where. And when I wake up, it's back and we start again. So, I have no great proof that tomorrow will be any different. Let me assure you- if the sun doesn't set tomorrow and the day lasts more than 24 hours, I will be sure to note it here. But somehow, I don't think that's going to happen. :) We'll see.

Light of the World

This morning, I had a weepy morning in church. It wasn't sad weepy, it was just falling at the feet of God weepy. I felt the enormous power of God and His Holy Spirit (the Spirit of Truth) while singing the great Steve Fee song Glory to God.

See, I often mistake my fears for other feelings, but when I name them and bring them to the Lord, I begin the process of eliminating them. I was kneeling at the altar and it struck me that God is so incredibly powerful. And when we were singing "He wraps himself in light, and darkness tries to hide and trembles at his voice," I was overwhelmed by how big of a force I have on my side. There is so much evil and danger in the world and it can seep into your consciousness and poison your entire outlook. But those dangers, evils, darknesses tremble at His voice.

Our pastor gave a wonderful sermon that was so encouraging to me. He read from Exodus when the Israelites are leaving Egypt and he leads them into the desert. During the day, there is a cloud that protects them from the sun and during the night, a pillar of fire stands watch, bringing light and safety with it. Pastor Kase pointed out how some people will wonder where is OUR pillar of fire? Where is our direction and light? Well, the answer is found in John: Jesus says, "I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." And in this way, God has provided us with the same almighty pillar of fire: in the form of JESUS. And when we follow and let him lead us, we are provided with the direction and safety that the Israelites received from the pillar of fire and cloud that accompanied them.

So to recap, before the sermon, I was weeping about how powerful God was that darkness, which I fear, trembles at His voice and then after the sermon, I was weeping about how thankful I am that the light of the world is my savior.

What a great Sunday morning!

Missing Someone

It's funny. The weirdest things can set off a spasm of missing someone. One minute you're watching Pretty Woman, noting Julia Roberts' innate ability to wear even thigh high hooker boots and still look innocent, and the next, you're flat on your back, feeling like you're wading through miles and miles of swamp trying to get through the next hour closer to seeing him.

And just as quickly as you sank into the pit of despair, God pulls your limp body out with one simple reminder such as "Do not be anxious for anything" or "He will fill your mouths with laughter, your lips with shouts of joy!" And you're back, plodding along, actually enjoying the movie again.

The strangest things comfort me: knowing what time it is where he is, for one. Why do I care to know what time it is there? Will it bring him closer to me or assure me of his safety? No. But somehow, it causes me to feel closer to him.

Brianna said she looked up (on google of course) the Pizza Hut they were eating at. And she said it was really beautiful. The Pizza Hut. And yet, as stupid as it may sound, both she and I were enormously comforted by that Pizza Hut.

I think that the first few days are hardest. Maybe I'm wrong, but when the countdown says 45 days... hope seems fleeting. But even now, the number 42, everything seems a little brighter. I'm keeping busy. And God is working in me during this time. For instance, today I realized that I've been given three gifts already!

#1. Brianna is a comfort and a joy to me. She knows what I feel, deeper even, and she knows how to put things in perspective when I don't. And when she loses her perspective, I manage to pull some wisdom out of nowhere. That's God for you!

#2. As silly as it seems, since he's been gone, I've been getting back to my normal sleep schedule. No more frantic evenings of talking on the phone- trying to soak up as much time with one another as possible before the phone calls become nearly non-existent and time together is reduced to a fleeting "Hi-I'm-alive-Bye" conversation or a hurried email sent from an internet cafe. Now, I go to bed early. Sort of depressing to think that I have nothing to stay up for... But nonetheless, I enjoy my 9:30 bedtimes. Because now, I get to wake up early and exercise. And I'm spending an awful lot of time exercising. Gotta get my emotions out somewhere!

#3. The most important thing I've been given in the past few days is a renewed vigor for leaning on the Lord. It's amazing how much of the time I try to do it all on my own. And it's for nothing! God WANTS to carry this burden for me. I praise him for being so patient with me as I try to wrestle my anxious heart back from him. I mean, COME ON, I need that anxious heart- it may be flawed, but it's my flaw and I want it back. For security purposes. But it doesn't take long to place it back at His feet. This six weeks is my chance to refocus, renew and refresh my heart, finding my joy in the Lord.

That being said... I am missing someone. Nothing is going to change that... but I am going to look for every gosh darn positive thing I can muster up out of this situation.

3 Haiku for a spring day

Quiet now

pounding feet

pushing through twinge of pain

Elegant mess

rising, fall

feeling strong even now

Quiet now

pounding feet

feeling strong even now

I went to see Fiddler on the Roof Friday night. First of all, despite Harvey Fierstein's occasional lapses into campy Edna Turnblad, I was enthralled with every aspect of the show, especially its incredible lasting power.

When I was ten, my grandparents took me to a small dinner theater in Los Angeles to see Fiddler. I was in love. I had seen theater before, many times, and I always thought I'd like to do that, but when I saw Fiddler that time, I knew that I would do what those people were doing one day. Little did I know it would be less than six years later.

Long story short, I was thinking a lot about ten year old me while I watched the show on Friday night. Ten year old me was more moody (I know, can you even imagine?), bookish, and shy than I am now. Ten year old me didn't have the courage to meet new people or put in a name at a restaurant maître d'. But she was thoughtful and kind, and had endearing quirks.

For instance, she used to think long and hard about what she would be like when she "grew up". Sometimes, she wondered what being a teenager would feel like and sometimes, she imagined herself so old as to be in college. She wondered if she'd be pretty, have friends, be smart... Would she have a boyfriend (Eh...)? Would she still like horses (No...)? Would she be a good person (Let's hope so...)? There were so many things that 10 year old me was hoping for in.... me.

And as I stood outside the Paramount Theater, I wondered if 10 year old me, who saw this very show nearly 11 years ago, would approve of who I've become. I imagined a scenario where we would meet, and she would walk around me, sizing me up. And even in this silly, impossible imaginary situation, I was nervous about whether she'd like me.

I want to be the person that I imagined/hoped/dreamed I would be when I was ten.

Save a little

Today, as I stood in my favorite bookstore, Third Place Books, staring at Molly Ringwall's book: Getting the Pretty Back, I realized that relationships may have gotten a whole lot more complicated with the onslaught of "simplifying" gadgets, websites and tools.

Think about it:

Family:

I didn't think twice about accepting my parents' friend requests on Facebook. I just hit "Accept" and called it a day. However, I've seen article after article and heard conversation after conversation about how difficult a decision it was to "befriend" relatives on social networking sites! Frankly, it really shouldn't be that big of a decision. If what you're posting on your social networking site isn't kosher enough for your parents (Jewish or not), it's probably not going to be impressing any future or current employers either. And that, my friends, is something you should be concerned with.

But it's not just Facebook or Twitter, it's texting, cell phones and Skype too! I love to Skype. But when I'm in my living room, eating a bowl of cereal at 1:00 in the afternoon and talking to my grandparents who live across the country, I will inevitably give away more information about myself than I would like. Perhaps I will absentmindedly pick my nose or chew with my mouth open. I mean, come on, all I wanted was to say hello in such a way that my grandmother could read my lips and not have to keep asking me what I said. It seems that all this connecting is getting a little bit personal.

Friends:

And speaking of personal, when was the last time you logged onto Facebook and saw something that you could have, frankly, done without ever seeing? Two minutes ago? Three? Maybe you're really cutting back on logging on and it was an hour ago? Because every time I get on that stupid, addicting website, I see something that I wish I hadn't. Whether it's a particularly angry status update or an unflattering photo, people seem unable to keep things mysterious. Plus, when you have 1,586 "friends" and most of them consist of people that you met at either a) band camp b) what's-his-name's birthday party or c) the Mary Kay event your great aunt hosted last weekend- you end up knowing way too much about way too many people that you have way too little right to know anything about.

All this exposure and "friendship" has gotten to the point where people are offended too easily. I did a show with someone a few years ago and we became Facebook friends. Well, after two years of never speaking online or for that matter, in reality, I deleted him during one of my monthly "friend purges". Yes, it may sound mean to delete people off of your Facebook roster, but I feel liberated when I decide against hearing about what so and so's cat had for breakfast this morning. ANYWAYS, you guessed it: about two years later, I start running into this particular person on a somewhat regular basis and soon enough, he realizes that we are no longer "friends" online. And what does he freakishly remember? Well, he remembers that at one point, we were. So then, he does what every child of the 20th century immediately would do: he gets offended. Because all of a sudden, us not being Facebook friends means that I don't like him or that I hate him or God forbid, that I don't care about every little thing that is going on in his life.

I re-friended him. All is well with the world.

Friendships are sacred to me. I wish Facebook connections were titled: Acquaintances. Then, if you decided to take a relationship to the next level, you could, I don't know, upgrade to "Friends". It would be special. You could really set people in their places. And the next time you do run into that lady you met one time at that one girl's baby shower, you can proudly concur that you are Facebook acquaintances but never have to tell the little white lie about being friends.

And finally....

Romantic Relationships (Entanglements?)

Here's where Molly Ringwall gets involved. She has an entire chapter in her book dedicated to the whole relationship issue that is specifically aimed towards the modern channels of communication, namely email. She and her husband (of I believe 9 years) began a relationship via email. I say, more power to ya. Especially because, as she points out, email can be the modern day form of Jane Austen type romances; little letters with ridiculously fast delivery and wonderfully accurate penmanship. She created a chart that outlines how long it takes a man to email you and what each time frame says about that man and his level of interest in you. And while I think this is a load of youknowwhat, I will admit that it got me thinking. If woman of the 20th century and onward read so deliberately into the amount of time it takes a man to text, call, email or Facebook us, what was the waiting period for say, letters? telegraph? morse code? smoke signal? cave painting? Did the women of the Wild West sit around and complain to their friends about the slow speed of their man's reply? The friend might say something akin to the modern day, 'Well, his Internet's probably down,' like, 'I'll bet one of the horses on that Pony Express had to be re-shod."

Now, all this communication has made some really interesting positive effect on the world. People are talking more, whether in type, text or actual speech. They want to look at your vacation pictures. We keep in contact with friends from high school, grade school, and I'll bet, somewhere out there, the nursery. And that's wonderful, great, FANTASTIC! I mean, there's a reason I'm still on Facebook!

My point is simply that we give ourselves away too easily. I know, I know, I'm blogging and I have the gall to say, 'Don't tell too much about yourself!' But let me tell you, there's an enormous amount of my life that I will not, CANNOT share publicly. And that's the part that I share with the people that I call my family and my real friends and, if the relationship is worth something, with a man. I want to keep a little bit sacred, holy, private.

Top Ten quotes from my Seattle Trip 2010

#1. Grandpa: "Landon, do you want to pray?"

Jared: "He only prays on holidays."

#2. Grandma: "Do you want the fuzzy water?"

#3. Jessica: "So the girls chase you and then what do they do?"

Jared: "(kissy noise)"

Jessica: "Oh!"

Landon: "And they put makeup on him."

#4. Jared: "Hey! Are you still going to get married?"

#5. Jessica: "Oh, look! That little boy has a walkie talkie!"

Jared: "Oh, I have lots of those at home. Like eleven."

Grandma: "His numbers are a little off."

#6. Jared: "My blood pressure is really good. (everyone stares at him) Well, it would be if they took it. Like 90."

Grandma: "His numbers are a little off."

#7. Landon: "The sleepover is going to be SO COOL. You know why? Because I'm bringing my WEBKINZ!"

#8. Grandma: "Maybe now he can get some peace on earth."

#9. Grandma (to grandpa): "I"m going to kill you in public!"

#10. Grandpa: "Maybe we can rent Snow White and the Seven Warvs."

"Will you watch me?"

I have the privilege of claiming quite a few young children as family. One, my sister, has passed the age of cute comments through ignorance and passed into the age of cute comments through intelligence. What an amazing change for us all!

But luckily, I still get the joy of hearing the twittering little voices of my cousins Landon and Jared as well as my cousin Kristen's children, Julian and Jaden. Four little boys, four different perspectives on the world.

Jaden, 2, recently showed me something he was holding. I said, "Is that a gameboy?" and he said, "Sí!" I took this as proof that Dora the Explorer has some worth as a children's show.

Julian, 4, and always the helper, showed me where the vacuum was the other day and kindly pointed out how it worked and then looked at me pointedly and said, "And this is the tord. You have to plug it in." Thank you dear.

But yesterday, I got to spend some time with Landon and Jared who are 7 and unfortunately live in Washington (aka, too far away). One thing stuck out: "Will you watch me?" What is it about the child's heart and mind that desires someone to watch them? I watched Jared flip, twist, turn, jump, wiggle and squirm up trees, on mats, while dancing and while simply standing on his own two feet!

Landon, on the other hand, wanted me to simply watch him play computer games. He dragged me to his room and showed me how to turn on his computer and then he sat down at the keyboard. He looked at me and said, "You see this button?" (he pointed to the 'ctrl' key). I nodded and he said, "You can push that when I tell you to." So, as he played Oklahoma Cuke (a really adorable Veggietales game) I was given the great opportunity to occasionally help rope the bad guys (who are, incidentally peas and monkeys) upon a quick nod or "PUSH IT" from my little Landon.

That feeling, wanting someone to simply watch you do something you're proud of, never goes away. We learn to control it because we're so afraid of being considered arrogant. But I don't think it's arrogant to share our gifts and talents, whether they are as great as writing, singing, playing a sport or as small as simply being a rockin' Oklahoma Cuke gamer, climbing a tree, or planting a garden.

We are just as special, unique and in need of assurance as we were when we were children. So, let's encourage each other and love one another for the unique gifts we possess. So, I will watch you, will you watch me?

Love is a dress that you made
long to hide your knees
love to say this to your face,
"I'll love you only"
for your days and excitement,
what will you keep for to wear?
someday drawing you different,
may I be weaved in your hair?

Love and some verses you hear
say what you can't say
love to say this in your ear,
"I'll love you that way"
from your changing contentments,
what will you choose for to share?
someday drawing you different,
may I be weaved in your hair?

-Love and Some Verses, Iron and Wine

I woke up this morning in the mood to listen to every romantic song ever written. Go figure. But this one takes the cake for me.

Love.

Caught in a storm

As if it wasn't already hard enough to get my lazy butt out of the house to exercise, nature has apparently decided to put up its own roadblocks. Late Sunday afternoons are the perfect time to sleep, eat, read, catch up on missed television but I decided to take a walk. I got about a half mile out when I looked up at the sky and thought, 'Huh, looks like it's going to rain.' Precisely seven seconds later it began to do just that.

I'll admit it, I'm stubborn. Once I make up my mind about something, there's very little that can stop me. Today, I had a certain point I was going to walk to and goshdarnit I was NOT stopping until I got there. I did, in fact, make it to the point for which I was aiming, but upon turning around to return home, I realized pretty quickly that I had three options: 1) jump on the back of a passing car and hope they don't mind the hop-on 2) run for home and hope that it would let up and 3) take shelter under a tree until the storm let up. It may not surprise you that I immediately ruled out the second option, and the first one was out of the picture because there was not a vehicle in sight that looked to be going slow enough for me to attempt a hijacking. So, I tucked my MP3 player into my sports bra, ran across the street and began plodding into the shallow forest lining the road.

Approximately ten steps in, I thought, 'Dear Lord, please don't let that be poison ivy.' Luckily, if it was, only my ankles were exposed. I finally found a tree upon which I could lean, and I listened as Billy Joel sang "Only a Woman to Me" to me while I watched the rain collect on the leaves of the surrounding trees and then gracefully fall in large drops to the ground. I watched as the sky, which minutes before had been blue with spots of white, turn to a deep, translucent gray that seemed to permeate everything, coloring the day melancholy. The air seemed to thicken with the overwhelming sense of thoughtfulness that the rain brought and I breathed in as slowly and deeply as I could, hoping to remember this moment forever.

Eventually I made a run for it when the rain seemed to let up. When I wound back up at home, I was soaked through but my spirits were high. For me, everything looked beautiful because I was seeing through a lens framed by dark eyelashes dripping with raindrops and the world seemed indescribably... pure. It's not, and I will inevitably forget the way I feel right now, but for the moment, I cherish the rain.

Today, I keeping thinking about all the little things that make me smile... coffee, an empty sink, the way the light shines in my kitchen window... But I had to share one thing that has never ceased to make me laugh out loud.

When my brother was about 12, he learned to play Tom Petty's Free Fallin' on guitar and commenced to play it non-stop for over three months. It was, frankly, horrific. I could not get the stupid thing out of my head and I ultimately decided to hate Tom Petty altogether. However, nearly seven years has past, and I have finally regained the ability to listen to Free Fallin' without triggering my gag reflex.

Lyrics have always been equally important to me as melody is, and in this song, they really make the song special.

She's a good girl, loves her mama
Loves Jesus and America too
She's a good girl, crazy 'bout Elvis
Loves horses and her boyfriend too

It's a long day livin' in Reseda
There's a freeway runnin' through the yard
And I'm a bad boy, 'cause I don't even miss her
I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart

And I'm free, I'm free fallin'

All the vampires walkin' through the valley
Move west down Ventura Blvd
And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows
All the good girls are home with broken hearts

And I'm free, I'm free fallin'

I wanna glide down over Mulholland
I wanna write her name in the sky
I wanna free fall out into nothin'
Gonna leave this world for awhile

And I'm free, I'm free fallin'.

I usually get all the way to the last verse, singing along, not remembering what's coming and then: "I wanna glide down, over Mulholland, I wanna-" comes and I suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Why, you might ask... Well, when my brother first started playing this silly song, I always thought the words were "I wanna RIDE her name in the sky" not "write her name in the sky" and all I could (and all I can) picture was (and is) Tom Petty with a cowboy hat and a lasso, riding a name in the sky.

This is probably one of the stupidest things to get all giggly about, but whenever I hear this song, I think of it and always smile. And on days like today, I can not get enough of those stupid little things!

I have 15 minutes to reflect

My best reflections always happen in the most inconvenient of situations. Right now, I have exactly fifteen minutes to write about my feelings and I have about four hours of feelings to express.

So, I condense. Life is throwing things at me right now that I never thought I'd have the strength with which to deal. And yet, look at me! I just made lunch, did a kickboxing video and have plans for a platonic date night tonight. It's almost funny how well I'm functioning. But this isn't a cause for arrongance or even high self esteem. Instead, I'm forcing myself to look at it as proof that my Lord, my God, my Savior, redeems even the gravest situations to show us how large, powerful and mighty His love and mercy are. He doesn't give me more strength than I need but he never gives me any less. I cry, I feel defeated, I whine and I despair but I have never not gotten up and gone on. And I never will be truly defeated unless I abandon my God, who shows me how much he cares. He formed me to be a friend, a cook, a writer, a musician, a daughter, a dancer, a thinker, and a thousand other things but He did not create me to be defeated. If that were His intention, He would have never died for me. Because if there was no hope for me, then I would be defeated. But there is hope. There is hope for me, you and all those who seem defeated, hopeless, abandoned...

And that's only 6 minutes of thought. Wow... the Lord also created me to be a good editor and time manager. Who knew?

Connections

The most important thing in this life is connection. Connection with a God, connection with others. In that order. Period.

Honestly, I could end this post with that. However, since I'm so much better at being verbose and rambling, why don't I do that instead?

I had coffee with a friend this evening. Actually, that's a lie- I drank coffee and then we talked in Starbucks for three hours until they escorted us out the door (literally). REGARDLESS, I got together with a dear friend and we shared our hearts. We laughed, we teared up, we got angry, we got sad, we understood one another: We connected. Connection fulfills. It brings peace. What a wonderful feeling to know that someone understands you or, even better, wants to understand you.

I had (okay, have) a bad speech habit of saying, "You know?" after nearly every sentence. In all honesty, it's gotten better and now only do it about once every paragraph. And yes, I speak in paragraphs, you know? When I really sat down and thought about why I would have this little audible quirk, I realized that it made perfect sense! I want to be understood. I want to be told, "Yes, I understand what you mean." I want validation from the person with whom I'm speaking. And if I'm not getting the visual or verbal cues that I desire from my conversation partner, I feel this pressing urge to confirm that they are connecting with what I'm saying. You know?

But when I am understood, when the stars align, and a connection is made, all is right with the world. And the cost of a Grande Non Fat Caramel Machiatto and the embarressment of being escorted out of Starbucks were completely worth it.

Not ashamed to be Sweatin' to the Oldies

I don't care what you say, Richard Simmon's created a gem when he created Sweatin' to the Oldies. I know it may be "old school", "vintage", or (as my fourteen year old self would have said) "the lamest thing ever" but I love jumping around (in my kitchen no less) to the pounding beat of shamelessly altered and "1980s"fied sixties tunes as I watch slightly overweight and really overweight people bounce around in a variety of spandex shirts, pants, dresses and the occasional (but greatly appreciated) jumper. And if you're looking for something a little bit sexy to keep you sweatin' until the very end, there's a man with shorts that are not quite as short as Simmon's but which certainly display his man parts more prominently. Just sayin.

See, what I've realized is that I like variety. Sure, it's nice to have a routine, but within that routine, I like to mix it up some. I'm not very gifted at actually putting that into motion however. I tend to start something great and do it until I am so burned out on it that I cannot stomach the thought of exercising. But my dear friend Becca, who now wants to exercise with me (yet another example of everyone coming around at some point...) purchased not only the workouts on demand for her computer but also the COMPLETE SET of Sweatin' to the Oldies on DVD. Did you even know that those babies were available on DVD? Well, now you do. So, tonight, we hunkered down, in the privacy of our own home, put the dogs outside, cleared a space and turned up the volume to the point where the piercingly high pitched voice of Richard (Richie S. as I like to call him) was nearly unbearable and we began to jive, scoot, and boogie away.

I'll admit, some of the movements tiptoe across the line of "we're working out" to "um... Richard Simmons is making slightly inappropriate gestures with his pelvis" but I giggled through and found myself giving in to the uproarious silliness of the entire "aerobic concert" (as the DVD describes it).

And I will also admit, with great pride, that when Richie S told us at the end (and also periodically through out the workout) that we were doing great, I silently and then audibly concurred with him. And when he told me to "Never, never, stop reaching!" (as we were doing arm reaches...clever...) I giggled and then solemnly vowed I wouldn't.

Where else can you get a workout and a motivational speech all in one?

Monkey Bread

Tonight, I decided to bake something. In all honesty, I probably would have baked about any ol' recipe that popped up on the screen, but I really wanted something sweet, something challenging and most importantly, something which I had the ingredients to make. I found a recipe for a "coffee cake" that was really monkey bread and I thought- "Eh! Why not?"

It's probably always a good idea to read the comments at the bottom of the online recipe. Phrases such as, "took me four hours" and "really time consuming" are always a helpful way to gauge how much you really need to have this particular food dish. I didn't read them.

I have a thing. Well, I have many things, but I have this one thing about following directions. I will, if at all possible, avoid following directions even if only in the most innocuous, mundane ways. For example, the recipe called for warm milk and I refused. I'm sure this had some incredibly significant effect on the bread and I know it would have taken me the enormous amount of time to press "reheat" on the microwave, but Noooo. Not me, I thought to myself. Maybe everyone else who made this warmed their milk, but me- HA!

Honestly, please tell me, why can't I just follow the darn instructions? Because I'm actually having to spend more time thinking about ways to not follow the directions rather than just DOING WHAT THEY SAY.

I'm writing this post before the darn thing even comes out of the oven. Tonight I have washed more dishes than anyone should ever have to wash in a single sitting. So many dishes, in fact, that my neck hurts from staring at the sink. I have gotten my hands sticky (ew), I have flour smeared across my midsection and I used an ungodly amount of butter for this silly adventure but I feel fabulous! I feel like my entire universe is balanced. Everytime I remove something from the oven I think about how amazing it is that separate entities could become one with as little effort as stirring and heating.

We live in a beautiful, incredible world. Why not go on an adventure with your cooking supplies and your own stubborn, willful self? Oh- there's the timer. Better go see if this recipe is worth keeping!

Striving for Naught

I spent nearly 15 hours this weekend at a competition for solo singing. I competed in two catagories, musical theatre and classical singing and had a total of eight pieces that I had been slaving over for the past two months. For the record, the competition was great experience and I didn't crash and burn. But I had plenty of time (in between the singing, warming up, actual performance and subsequent agonizing over the mistakes) to contemplate the nature of competition.

I saw a variety ways in which people deal with competing exemplified this weekend:

#1. "Nailed It"

Unfortunately the most common attitude in the singing world- the "nailed it" competitor walks out of the room feeling not just confident, but assured of a win. When asked how it went, this person with respond, with a chuckle, "Oh, it was fine... no mistakes. They loved it." If no one else around them giggles, one can only assume they were being serious and then can catagorize them as a "nailed it" competitor. This person, if informed they were not the winner, will not be able to understand why they were not the best. They will roll their eyes and give you lists of reasons why the judges were biased. Watch out for "nailed it" conspiracy theorists: aka "Well, if you ask me, the entire competition is rigged because..."

#2. "Poor Me"

The slightly less popular, but ever present, competitor attitude is the "Poor Me". These creatures have, apparently, never experienced a day in which they were in "good voice". They are always plugged up, snotty and flemish; adjectives which, ironically, usually describe their personalities as well. When this person leaves the competition, they are never surprised that the judges "hated them" because they were not having a good day, the room was too dry, the piano was out of tune and, finally, they really just weren't having a good vocal day.

#3. "Eh..."

Strangely enough, the smallest percentage of competitors fit into this catagory. Sometimes "eh.."s will lean towards "Poor Me" but they rarely lean towards nailed it. The "eh..." sees their performance for what it was: the best they could have done. They realize that there may have been flaws and that there were also probably great moments. They are able to realize that judges aren't the voice of God, but rather just people asked for their opinion. The classic "eh.." can separate themselves from their score.

There are, of course, more types of competitors, but these three seem to describe the majority of the people I encountered this weekend. The problem with singing competitions is that the singer cannot put his instrument away. There is walking away from the music, but never away from the voice. When a judge critiques the voice or the performance, the singer must fight to distinguish the criticism of his instrument from criticism of himself.

In one catagory I was given a "superior" rating and a "good" rating by two separate judges. I was told one of my songs was "wonderful" and then told the same song "didn't show you off vocally or dramatically." One said my pianos were spot on and one said they didn't like the dynamic levels. Two judges said that my register changes were great and the other one suggested that I work on my register changes. If I spent time trying to please everyone or taking all of those words to heart, I'd implode.

But I walked away from the weekend with the knowledge that I am loved. The judges may not have loved me, the other singers certainly didn't love me, and I may have not loved myself all that much after reading all of those criticisms. But in the deep recesses of my mind, I know that I am loved by God and by the people who matter. I could come in dead last place every time. I could be told that I should never sing again. God still loves me.

I could win every time. I could be told that I was the most amazing singer they'd ever heard. God doesn't love me any more. See, not only are my works not enough to gain God's love, but my talents aren't going to get me anywhere either. God gave us our talents to glorify Him! Being more talented than others doesn't mean diddley squat to Him.

So if you think you may be a "Nailed It" or a "Poor Me" when it comes to competition, perhaps you should join me in my quest to be more "Eh..." ish. I want to put my successes aside and focus on the fact that I am loved completely and totally as well as separately from any accolades, works or wins that I may accrue.

Plus, "Nailed It" and "Poor Me" just get tiring for both those saying it and those listening. So, there's that...

Excuse me pretty baby but I always take the long way home...

It's a rare Winter Wonderland outside today and I have been feeling pretty sentimental... Here's why:

#1. I live in a home built on a mountain. I hear the wind howling past the walls and whipping through the trees as I am falling asleep. There is nature crowding in around me at all hours of the day, poking its head through my superficial fog and reminding me of what beauty means. Today, I look outside and I see trees weighed down with inches of snow as light as powdered sugar but still heavy when piled on and I am reminded of how grace can cover our mistakes as smoothly and as gracefully (no pun intended) as the white blanket that fell over the world last night.

#2. I found a bird yesterday. It had been snowing an hour and as I walked to my car, snowflakes falling in my hair and landing in my eyelashes, I nearly stepped on a ball of feathers on the asphalt. I stopped, looked and realized it was a bird. Benji, who was with me warned that it was a dead bird carrying diseases, but I reached down and picked the golf sized ball of fluff up anyways. Have you ever held a bird in your hand? It is an experience that makes you feel like Snow White at her finest. There is a disbelief that floods your mind as you look down at an altogether flighty creature that is now curled up in your palm with no intentions of moving. I clutched the small green and yellow bird to my chest, trying to determine whether it was injured or just cold. I couldn't find any wounds or broken bones, and so I just stood and stared at it as it clung to my dress. A group of men crowded around me, inquiring if they could "pet" it. As I stared at grown males who were now acting like second grade girls, I realized that it doesn't matter how old or manly you may be: a bird in someone's palm fills you with wonder. The bird couldn't come home with me but I didn't feel okay just tossing it into the cold so I found a tree with a Y at the bottom and placed my scarf in a nest like bundle on the ledge. I put the little bird in the scarf and watched as it tucked its little head into its shoulder and huddled down into its warm bed. As I walked away, I said a little prayer.

#3. Things are rough, emotionally, for me. I feel wounded and vulnerable. And yet, with every hurt and disappointment, I feel God's grace finding me at an even deeper level. Here I am, worried sick about this and that, and a bird and a blanket of snow are placed at my doorstep all within a 24 hour period. HE shows His love for me in ways that are individual and personal. He loves me enough to know my innermost desires; ones like peace (a wintery morning) and fulfillment (tucking a bird into a warm scarf). I am loved by a Savior that knows who I am and what I need.

Norah Jones sings: "Excuse me pretty baby, but I always take the long way home." I do too. And do you want to know why? Because the long way home is marked with beauty. On the long way home, I get a chance to think, to contemplate, to romanticize. And I want my reality to be the kind that I find on the long way home.