There's been a lot of talk about a baby and a manger here lately. This morning as the pastor talked about that baby named Jesus lying in a manger, for some reason I couldn't escape that man named Jesus who died on the ultimate Christmas tree - the cross.
But before I get to that, it seems there was a lot of commotion when Jesus was born. Angels singing. Shepherds worshiping. Throw in their sheep and other livestock and I imagine the noise level increases a great deal. Who knows what else added to the cacophony. Safe to say it wasn't a silent night.
Fast forward thirty or so years. Jesus is heading into Jerusalem, about to make his triumphal entry on a humble donkey (check out Luke 19:28-44 for the full details). Lots of noise here, too.
As he went along, people spread their cloaks on the road.
When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”
“Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”
So He makes his triumphal entry. The people are going wild and Jesus says he won't silence them. He won't stop them because even if he does - and he could - the rocks would cry out.
Fast forward again to that moment when he's hanging on the ultimate Christmas tree. He has cried out to God, asking why he has been forsaken. A darkness has fallen over the land. And I can't help but wonder if the people have gone silent. Because you know what happens when Jesus finally takes his last breath?
"At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split..." (Matthew 27:51)
The rocks cried out. In that moment, they could no longer be quiet, even when the people were. Even when those who had sworn they would never leave him, they would follow him always - even when they grew silent - the stones cried out.
Because there is a God in heaven who will be revered one way or another, whether I choose to worship him or not. Whether you choose to worship him or not. He will be worshiped. He will not be denied what is due Him.
From the manger to the cross - and everything in between - it is about a God who is sovereign, a God who has said even if you keep quiet, my creation will cry out.
Yes, Christmas is about a baby in a manger who was born to set us free from death and sin. Yes, Christmas is about angels proclaiming to a fallen world to not be afraid. Yes, Christmas is about an unlikely man and woman being called to be the father and mother of a baby boy named Emanuel. But that baby boy is no good if he remains there, if he remains in that manger, where a few wise men would come from afar to worship him. I don't need just a baby in a manger. I need a Savior on a cross whose blood was shed for me. A Savior who would be buried and rise again in three days. I need a Savior that demands that the rocks cry out.
Even when I don't.
Not that that should ever be a justification for my silence, that simply because there will be others who will speak forth the good news, I shouldn't have to. No. But it is a firm reminder that I have been given a choice - quiet and stillness or noise and proclamation. He will be heard one way or another. But wouldn't I rather be the one proclaiming? Wouldn't I rather be the one that has the privilege of speaking forth the ultimate Christmas story, a story not only of a baby in a manger, but a man on a cross who was laid in a tomb, rose again, and now sits at the right hand of his Father?
Yes, the rocks will cry out - even if I am silent.
But God, help me to not be silent.
12.25.2011
12.19.2011
Jumping Photos are the Best
12.16.2011
12.14.2011
Is There a Return Policy for This?
So, we hid her in the barn for a few days. We then conveniently told our parents, "Hey, by the way - we've been hiding a puppy in the barn for a few days. Can we keep her? I mean, you can't honestly expect us to get rid of her now! She likes us." My parents were kind enough to give in and let us keep her, despite the fact that they still were not thrilled with the idea of a stereotypically aggressive dog hanging around the place. They made a good choice as she turned out to be one of my very best friends, especially in her older age as she mellowed out. I thought I spoiled her, but when I left for college, my parents officially claimed her and loved her even more. We still talk about that dog often.
And now there is Buster.
You should tell just by that transition alone that this is not going to end well. He actually belongs to my brother, Josh. As a puppy he was the cutest thing. But aren't they all when they are puppies? Then they gain 60-lbs and you question your sanity. He's part Bulldog, part Boxer, all parts idiot. I swear this dog has no brakes. He will beat you in a game of chicken every single time. I can't tell you the number of times he will come flying around a corner, race into the barn, go sliding across the cement because his paws are slippery and because he's too fat to slow himself down, he'll crash into whatever is waiting for him at the end. He's rammed a few saw horses on a couple of occasions. Slid into the tractor a time or two. Hit his nose on the car.
The best incident, however, was when I taught him how to climb up on the kids' swing set we have. There is a set of faux stone steps on one side that go up into the wooden stand and then the slide goes down the other side. Well, Buster morphed into a bionic agility dog when he discovered he could he hoist his fat behind up those steps. I occasionally join him on his escapades up the steps and down the slide. In hindsight, I realize that is not a brilliant move on my part. I climbed up the stairs, he followed. I tried to beat him down the slide. Not smart. As I was sitting down on the slide, he realized what I was doing and decided to follow suit. So I now have a 70-lb dog pretty much perched on my shoulders as I'm heading down the slide. I hit the bottom of the slide and the ground so hard because Buster slammed into the back of me. I managed to bruise both knees pretty bad and I just about ate grass. Of course, my parents are watching all of this unfold from the kitchen window. Apparently I was the free entertainment for the evening.
Awesome, I thought. I leave it on him for a few hours, come back to check on him. Yep, still on there. So, I leave it on overnight. Next morning, still there. This is working out better than I thought. And let's be honest - he looks good in it. I think he knows it.
On Sunday, I went to turn him loose, but made the mistake of leaving the blanket on him. Ten minutes later he comes flying around the corner per his usual hyperactive mode. With no blanket on. It's pitch black out so here I am wandering around our yard with a flashlight trying to find this blasted blanket. No such luck. I told him he deserved to shiver that night.
I go out the next day when it's light and what do I find?
I'm sorry, Petsmart, but do you have a return policy for when your dog is an idiot?
12.12.2011
Who Knew...
It's always good to do things a little differently every once in awhile, even the simple things. Our office normally does a canned food drive every Christmas for the local food pantry. The results are moderate. This year, however, we decided to plunge in and spice things up by adding a new dimension to the food drive: a canned food sculpture competition. (Go ahead, make fun all you want. You're just jealous your office didn't think of it first.) 
Yes, you read that correctly - a canned food sculpture competition. Each department was responsible for designing a holiday-themed sculpture, constructing it within a week. Staff members would then vote on the best one. Our small but mighty Administrative Team engineered a snowman out of mixed vegetables, corn, green beans, and peas. We had to give ourselves a little pat on the back because I think we surprised even ourselves at how much fun we had. I'm a little biased, but I think our little snowman turned out pretty great (even though we only got one vote). 
The Communications Department engineered what I thought was a sweet fireplace, made primarily out of Ramen Noodles and boxes of cereal. (They might have influenced quite a few votes by having Tim Horton's donut holes - just sayin'.) The voting was incredibly close - one vote separated first from second. The winner ended up being the Member Services Department and their gingerbread house also made out of a lot of Ramen Noodles and cotton balls.
Who knew the usual canned food drive could be oh so much more fun.
12.08.2011
It Was Not A Silent Night...
It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love
-"Labor of Love," Andrew Peterson, performed by Jill Phillips
11.13.2011
Walking Through the Doors
Sometimes I think more than I should. It's a dangerous habit. Then I think about what I think about, which is really dangerous. I get to overanalyzing and second-guessing, questioning and wondering. And by the time I'm done with the conversation I'm having with myself, I'm inevitably back to where I began.
I have found that to be most true as I have reflected on the possibilities of my future, particularly in regards to Africa. I feel this compelling need to figure it all out now - to determine now whether I'm going to spend the rest of my life there or at least a good portion of it. This compelling need to determine now which organization to go with and why. This compelling need to determine now exactly in what capacity I could serve.
But you know the one thing God keeps telling me? Walk through the doors as they open. I don't need to figure it all out now. I just need to walk through the doors that open. I need to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.
I remember Beth Moore saying one time, speaking about God's will - it is a progressive will, one that is revealed over time. God slowly sheds light on what his plans are for our lives, day by day he pulls back the curtain and says, 'This is your next step. This the next right thing to do. Go, do that. Quit overanalyzing, quit worrying about planning every nanosecond of your life from now until you die." I've needed that reminded here lately, when I get so caught up in worrying about what God's plans are for my life, both in the short- and long-term.
Right now, those next steps are to go back to Kenya next summer. That is what's next. That's what I know right now. That's the light he's given me.
Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
I need to trust that word and keep walking down the path, walking through the doors that he opens.
I have found that to be most true as I have reflected on the possibilities of my future, particularly in regards to Africa. I feel this compelling need to figure it all out now - to determine now whether I'm going to spend the rest of my life there or at least a good portion of it. This compelling need to determine now which organization to go with and why. This compelling need to determine now exactly in what capacity I could serve.
But you know the one thing God keeps telling me? Walk through the doors as they open. I don't need to figure it all out now. I just need to walk through the doors that open. I need to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.
I remember Beth Moore saying one time, speaking about God's will - it is a progressive will, one that is revealed over time. God slowly sheds light on what his plans are for our lives, day by day he pulls back the curtain and says, 'This is your next step. This the next right thing to do. Go, do that. Quit overanalyzing, quit worrying about planning every nanosecond of your life from now until you die." I've needed that reminded here lately, when I get so caught up in worrying about what God's plans are for my life, both in the short- and long-term.
Right now, those next steps are to go back to Kenya next summer. That is what's next. That's what I know right now. That's the light he's given me.
Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.
I need to trust that word and keep walking down the path, walking through the doors that he opens.
11.10.2011
Through This, I've Been Reminded
Relationships are funny things. I suppose if you stopped and thought about it long enough, the fact that any two human beings can ever make any friendship or relationship work really does seem a bit absurd. I mean, sometimes I think it's downright crazy. Putting two sinful people together and saying, "Go, be a reflection of Christ." Hm. Easier said than done.
What I've really been reminded of lately, though, is ultimately how I see Christ through my relationship with Nick. On numerous occasions the Lord has brought to mind things where he just gently says, "Okay - see this? That's a reflection of me, that's meant to be a reminder of me, a reminder of what I feel for you." I finally just had to make a list because I had way too many thoughts floating around in my head and I didn't want them to escape. My relationship with Nick has been so sweet and I'm ever so grateful for him, for a variety of reasons, but God continually pulls back the curtain, reminding me of what it could like if we stop pursuing Him, if we get caught up in our own wants and needs.
I've been reminded that the other person will never full satisfy me and meet all of my expectations. And when he doesn't, Christ will.
I've been reminded that if our hope is in the other person a vast majority of the time and he doesn't fulfill that hope, Christ will.
I've been reminded that when we make an idol out of the other person or worship how he makes us feel, we'll wake up one day and realize he can never save me. Christ does.
I've been reminded that if we do not first have a life story, one that is intertwined with Christ, then when our love story happens, we will have no identity apart from that person. Christ must be our identity.
I've been reminded that while our longings and desires can be true and pure, if they are not kept in check, we'll be left with nothing but lust and lies, deceived by our own wants. Those longings can neither be revered nor condemned, but must be thought about rightly in reference to Christ. He is to be our ultimate longing.
I've been reminded that if our relationship does not ultimately reflect Christ and his church, then it's time to reevaluate and set aright that which is wrong. The world is watching and waiting for us to make a wrong move - let's not give them a reason to find fault. Christ is the mirror we must reflect.
I've been reminded that if a man - a mere human - can feel this way about me, then doesn't Christ feel that way even more so? And if somebody longs to lavish their love on me, then doesn't Christ wish to do even more?
I've been reminded that if a man declares to me that I am beautiful or wanted, should I not take him at his word? And if God declares the same, should I not believe him even more so? We insult both and foster unbelief when we are quick to brush off that which is spoken. If he says it's true, what further proof or evidence do I need?
I've been reminded that God calls us to be like him, in whatever medium we find ourselves. It is not wrong to want or need another human being, to enjoy him, to love him, to be grateful. God gives us those desires and they are good. But they are not the bottom line. Christ is.
In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.
In Christ alone who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones he came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied -
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.
There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave he rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine -
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.
No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.
What I've really been reminded of lately, though, is ultimately how I see Christ through my relationship with Nick. On numerous occasions the Lord has brought to mind things where he just gently says, "Okay - see this? That's a reflection of me, that's meant to be a reminder of me, a reminder of what I feel for you." I finally just had to make a list because I had way too many thoughts floating around in my head and I didn't want them to escape. My relationship with Nick has been so sweet and I'm ever so grateful for him, for a variety of reasons, but God continually pulls back the curtain, reminding me of what it could like if we stop pursuing Him, if we get caught up in our own wants and needs.
I've been reminded that the other person will never full satisfy me and meet all of my expectations. And when he doesn't, Christ will.
I've been reminded that if our hope is in the other person a vast majority of the time and he doesn't fulfill that hope, Christ will.
I've been reminded that when we make an idol out of the other person or worship how he makes us feel, we'll wake up one day and realize he can never save me. Christ does.
I've been reminded that if we do not first have a life story, one that is intertwined with Christ, then when our love story happens, we will have no identity apart from that person. Christ must be our identity.
I've been reminded that while our longings and desires can be true and pure, if they are not kept in check, we'll be left with nothing but lust and lies, deceived by our own wants. Those longings can neither be revered nor condemned, but must be thought about rightly in reference to Christ. He is to be our ultimate longing.
I've been reminded that if our relationship does not ultimately reflect Christ and his church, then it's time to reevaluate and set aright that which is wrong. The world is watching and waiting for us to make a wrong move - let's not give them a reason to find fault. Christ is the mirror we must reflect.
I've been reminded that if a man - a mere human - can feel this way about me, then doesn't Christ feel that way even more so? And if somebody longs to lavish their love on me, then doesn't Christ wish to do even more?
I've been reminded that if a man declares to me that I am beautiful or wanted, should I not take him at his word? And if God declares the same, should I not believe him even more so? We insult both and foster unbelief when we are quick to brush off that which is spoken. If he says it's true, what further proof or evidence do I need?
I've been reminded that God calls us to be like him, in whatever medium we find ourselves. It is not wrong to want or need another human being, to enjoy him, to love him, to be grateful. God gives us those desires and they are good. But they are not the bottom line. Christ is.
In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.
In Christ alone who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones he came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied -
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.
There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave he rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine -
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.
No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.
11.05.2011
The Things I Used to Think
You know how sometimes the sun's rays will shine through a bank of clouds, leaving part of the land covered in light and the rest covered in shadows?
I used to think wherever those rays landed, those were the only people God spoke to.
And you know how some vehicles have an emergency brake handle in the center console?
I used to think if you pulled the handle the seats would eject.
And radios - you know how the song changes every few minutes?
I used to think a new band would literally set up of their instruments in a room at the radio station. I could never figure out how they could change things so quickly in between songs.
The things I used to think.
Don't ask me how my childish mind came up with those things. Somehow or another, we come up with outlandish notions as children because in our little minds, they make sense to us.
But now I know.
Where the sun's rays fall can't limit to whom God speaks.
Because now I know He's bigger than that.
And I'm not going to die when I pull the emergency brake and get catapulted out of my car.
Because now I know emergency brakes are more about my safety.
And the wonders of technology means Brad Paisley isn't scrambling to get his band out of the way in order for Rascal Flatts to play their next song.
Because now I know.
I love how the pastor Isaac Anderson said it in a sermon once about becoming disillusioned with God. He said, "Maybe we need to set aside whatever notions we might have of who we think God is in order to go in search of a God worth finding. A God that is big enough, and mysterious enough, a God who isn't so much worthy of our disinterest, but worthy of our devotion."
There are a lot of things I used to think were right and true, some silly, some not so silly. I'm a little older and a little wiser. I'm grateful that God is the kind of God that doesn't leave us alone at the crossroads of things we used to think and things we now know. We're always learning, always growing - sometimes it's not easy and sometimes I think it would be easier to go back to thinking the things I used to think.
But now I know.
10.20.2011
The Practice of Getting Lost
Sometimes we need to get a little lost. It does our senses some good when we're not sure where we are. Barbara Brown Taylor said in her book An Altar in the World, "You have to start somewhere. If you do not start choosing to get lost in some fairly low-risk ways, then how will you ever manage when one of life's big winds knocks you clean off your course? I am not speaking literally here, although literal lostness is a good place to begin since the skills are the same: managing your panic, marshalling your resources, taking a good look around to see where you are and what this unexpected development might have to offer you."
Some people don't manage their panic or marshal their resources very well, however. You may have heard about the couple and their children who got lost in a corn maze in Danvers, Massachusetts. After spending who-knows-how-long in the maze and not making it out, the decide to call 911. That would have been my natural thought. Yes, let's call 911 to get us out of a corn maze. Hmm. Either way, the police come, only for the couple to discover that they were about 25 feet away from the exit. To each his own.
But then I spent some time in our own local corn maze and discovered that I was quite annoyed at getting lost. And quite annoyed at going around in circles, wondering how the heck to get over there, wherever there is, when I am so sick of seeing and being here, wherever here is. I didn't feel the need to call 911, but I will admit that I did text the above sign at one point because clearly my sense of direction was not getting me anywhere. The text wasn't much help. It basically said look at the sun and go left. Awesome. That's just where I came from. So, I'm still here.
I suppose getting lost in that corn maze was a good reminder, though, for me. I need those kind of reminders every so often, even if they do come in the form of muddy paths, ridiculous winds, screaming lost children, and stalks of corn slapping me in the face as I walk by. I need to get lost a little more often. And be okay with it.
Taylor went on to write in her book
When the safety net has split, when the resources are gone, when the way ahead is not clear, the sudden exposure can be both frightening and revealing. We spend so much of our time protecting ourselves from this exposure that a weird kind of relief can result when we fail. To lie flat on the ground with the breath knocked out of you is to find a solid resting place. This is as low as you can go. You told yourself you would die if it ever came to this, but here you are. You cannot help yourself and yet you live."
She goes on to say
You will think of other ways to get lost, or to accept that you really have gotten lost through no choice of your own. It can happen anywhere, in all kinds of ways. You can get lost on your way home. You can get lost looking for love. You can get lost between jobs. You can get lost looking for God. However it happens, take heart. Others before you have found a way in the wilderness, where there are as many angels as there are wild beasts, and plenty of other lost people, too. All it takes is one of them to find you. All it takes is you to find one of them. However it happens, you could do worse than to kneel down and ask a blessing, remembering how many knees have kissed this altar before you.I only hope I can practice the art of getting lost a little more often, both in the literal and figurative sense. I'll just know not to text Pig17 next time around.
10.05.2011
Look Closely
It's been awhile since I carved a few pumpkins. My right arm certainly knew that it had been awhile considering it felt like it was going numb after just ten minutes of trying to carve out part of Mickey Mouse's ear. Now, I'm not a big fan of Halloween in general. I think the holiday could go away all together and we'd be better off without it. However, I do love fall and all things that go along with fall - cider, sweaters, scarves, football, changing leaves, pumpkins, etc. Thus, the pumpkin carving party I had with my niece and Nick's little sister.
I really didn't want to have a pumpkin that had a particular Halloween theme - no spooky ghosts, or "trick or treat," or anything like that. So we went with Mickey. My mom loves Disney and I wasn't feeling partial to any particular concept myself, so I figured why not. We made a pit stop at a local pumpkin farm, where we carefully (and quickly - since it was pretty chilly that day) selected our pumpkins, grabbed our carving kits, printed out our patterns, and dove in.
Grace had opted for a Perry the Platypus pattern. If you are a Phineas and Ferb fan (unlike myself), then you'll know that Perry is one of the characters from the show. This is not a show that I happen to be well-acquainted with so I wasn't entirely sure what Perry the Platypus would look like, I was just informed that he was blue.
This is what Perry the Platypus should look like:
And this is what Perry the Platypus looks like on a pumpkin, Grace's version:
Later on, Grace came up to me and insisted I come look at her pumpkin. Now that she had put a votive candle in it, it really looked like Perry.
Bless you, child, for being so confident.
9.30.2011
Precious Faces
I just love receiving updates from the village in Kenya. The village director recently sent me some photos and an update on the latest happenings in the village. The biggest news being that they recently received a container of supplies and goods from the Home Office. Yeen-Lan wrote:
"On 19 July, a gigantic crane offloaded a 26,000-pound container onto the Village grounds. The children had never seen the mechanical bird in their lives. They held their breath, not sure if the chains would snap and the container would go into free fall. Several of them clasped their hands in silent prayer. We took the opportunity to have a Science lesson on mechanics.
"On 19 July, a gigantic crane offloaded a 26,000-pound container onto the Village grounds. The children had never seen the mechanical bird in their lives. They held their breath, not sure if the chains would snap and the container would go into free fall. Several of them clasped their hands in silent prayer. We took the opportunity to have a Science lesson on mechanics.
The children's rumour mill had been churning. "Mrs. Jensen is sending some American kids to be our friends." When the container sat nicely on the ground, they raced towards it, hoping to see new friends walk out from the container!
No, Mrs. Jensen did not send any American kids in the container. It was filled with wonderful supplies of books, Bibles, hymnals, a keyboard, soccer balls, science lab equipment, stock pot cooker, dishwasher, clothing, soft toys, toothbrushes, tooth paste, art and craft materials..."
In the photo below, the little boy on the right with a goofy expression is probably a familiar face to some. You may remember Johnson and my life-saving intervention. He is clearly doing well since that escapade.
9.29.2011
Joke of the Day
In light of my brother's recent wedding - all I can say is thank goodness this didn't happen:
A couple was arranging for their wedding, and asked the bakery to inscribe the wedding cake with "1 John 4:18" which reads "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear."
The bakery evidently lost, smudged or otherwise misread the noted reference, and beautifully inscribed on the cake "John 4:18" ...
"for you have had five husbands, and the man you have now is not your husband."
A couple was arranging for their wedding, and asked the bakery to inscribe the wedding cake with "1 John 4:18" which reads "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear."
The bakery evidently lost, smudged or otherwise misread the noted reference, and beautifully inscribed on the cake "John 4:18" ...
"for you have had five husbands, and the man you have now is not your husband."
9.23.2011
In Two Days
In two days, my brother will stand in front of friends and family make a covenant with the woman he loves.
In two days, my brother will slip a ring on Megan's finger and vow to love her until his dying breath.
In two days, my brother will make a decision that will forever change his life.
In two days, my brother will stand before a holy and gracious God and pledge he will honor and cherish the King's daughter with every fiber of his being, no matter the cost.
It's a hefty decision. Apart from accepting Christ, I'd say it's the most important decision a person can ever make in his or her lifetime.
But you know what's really mind-boggling about those moments? They are mere reflections. Mere reflections of what Christ desires for His Church, his own bride. But you know what I also really love about those moments? It reminds me that God is for us. He is for marriage. He is for purity. He is for covenant relationships. He is in favor of those things that ultimately reflect Him.
One of the poems that I absolutely love is called "Dear Bride to Be" by Beth Moore. I don't know where I first encountered it, but I think I have given a copy of it to nearly every friend I have that has recently gotten married. In my mind, it captures God's deepest desires for our marriages.
Josh and Megan - this is my prayer for you.
Come to Me, dear bride to be
And kneel before My throne,
And I will share My heart with you
And make your house a home.
Listen well, lean closely,
There are secrets at My feet.
The marriage you will soon begin
This Bridegroom will complete.
The man with whom you’ll journey
Is your wedding gift from me
To teach you things beyond this world,
A precious mystery.
For through your union I will choose to teach you of myself
Let him hold you tightly
and keep you safe from harm
until I’ll one day hold you in my everlasting arms.
Let him wipe away your tears
and trust him with your pain
until I wipe them all away and heaven is your gain.
Pray to love his tender touch and want his gentle kiss.
I grant you both my blessing
and ask you not to miss
the reason why I have chosen for two halves to become one
That you might see the Bride of Christ,
sweet daughter, dear son.
So make his home a refuge, he’s to love you as I do
Until your mansion is complete for you
And if I should choose to leave you here when I call him home Trust me, I’ll be your husband then, you’ll never be alone.
In two days, my brother will slip a ring on Megan's finger and vow to love her until his dying breath.
In two days, my brother will make a decision that will forever change his life.
In two days, my brother will stand before a holy and gracious God and pledge he will honor and cherish the King's daughter with every fiber of his being, no matter the cost.
It's a hefty decision. Apart from accepting Christ, I'd say it's the most important decision a person can ever make in his or her lifetime.
But you know what's really mind-boggling about those moments? They are mere reflections. Mere reflections of what Christ desires for His Church, his own bride. But you know what I also really love about those moments? It reminds me that God is for us. He is for marriage. He is for purity. He is for covenant relationships. He is in favor of those things that ultimately reflect Him.
One of the poems that I absolutely love is called "Dear Bride to Be" by Beth Moore. I don't know where I first encountered it, but I think I have given a copy of it to nearly every friend I have that has recently gotten married. In my mind, it captures God's deepest desires for our marriages.
Josh and Megan - this is my prayer for you.
Come to Me, dear bride to be
And kneel before My throne,
And I will share My heart with you
And make your house a home.
Listen well, lean closely,
There are secrets at My feet.
The marriage you will soon begin
This Bridegroom will complete.
The man with whom you’ll journey
Is your wedding gift from me
To teach you things beyond this world,
A precious mystery.
For through your union I will choose to teach you of myself
Let him hold you tightly
and keep you safe from harm
until I’ll one day hold you in my everlasting arms.
Let him wipe away your tears
and trust him with your pain
until I wipe them all away and heaven is your gain.
Pray to love his tender touch and want his gentle kiss.
I grant you both my blessing
and ask you not to miss
the reason why I have chosen for two halves to become one
That you might see the Bride of Christ,
sweet daughter, dear son.
So make his home a refuge, he’s to love you as I do
Until your mansion is complete for you
And if I should choose to leave you here when I call him home Trust me, I’ll be your husband then, you’ll never be alone.
9.11.2011
Captured Moments
It would be easy to drown in sadness on days like this. This day 10 years ago is etched into the subconscious of our lives, both as individuals and as a nation. It's easy to lose sight of a lot when tragedy strikes. The pastor this morning spoke about that very thing - what do you do in the face of tragedy? How do you invite God into those moments and not lose hope when it seems "hope has grown legs and run off"?
In the midst of such thoughts has come an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Not just for the good things in life, but for the hard things, too. I have a lot for which to be grateful, and I was reminded of that as I scrolled through some photos my friend snapped Labor Day weekend. My sweet friend Kristen was in town for the weekend - we hadn't seen each other in four years, but throughout that time we still managed to talk about once a week. She's a photo fanatic so to say she took a few pictures would be an understatement. Try close to 500. But of those hundreds, I could see in each something to be grateful for.
Friendships
I think small pieces of my life and my heart have been coming back to me in recent weeks, primarily in the form of friendships. Alex returned from Germany after being gone for 6 weeks. Kristen visited after 4 years. Joy moved back to Ohio with her husband after living in Washington for nearly 5 years. Jill finally caught her breath and stopped in one place long enough to sit down and have dinner with me. Such sweet parts of my life. Women that I'm so grateful for. And then Nick entered my life - that one's definitely taking some getting used to. Attaching the word "boyfriend" to someone in regard to me is a very foreign concept. But his presence is appreciated probably more than he could fully understand. And it's not just those people solely that have been reminders - I have co-workers and former colleagues that get added to the list of friendships to be grateful for.
The details
Then there are the details. I'm learning more and more about the little things that make a big difference, the value of not overlooking the small and the mundane. Kristen and I decided to go out on a limb and do a photo shoot of me in this old prom dress I have. We basically went around our house and farm and snapped photos of whatever we thought would look good. I told her I wanted a picture of me with my pony, Bud - but just of our feet. So here we are in my houndstooth-print rain boots and prom dress with Bud's little feet next to mine. It reminds me of the details because it's just a smaller piece of a bigger whole. I need to be reminded of that perspective more often.
In the midst of such thoughts has come an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Not just for the good things in life, but for the hard things, too. I have a lot for which to be grateful, and I was reminded of that as I scrolled through some photos my friend snapped Labor Day weekend. My sweet friend Kristen was in town for the weekend - we hadn't seen each other in four years, but throughout that time we still managed to talk about once a week. She's a photo fanatic so to say she took a few pictures would be an understatement. Try close to 500. But of those hundreds, I could see in each something to be grateful for.
Friendships
I think small pieces of my life and my heart have been coming back to me in recent weeks, primarily in the form of friendships. Alex returned from Germany after being gone for 6 weeks. Kristen visited after 4 years. Joy moved back to Ohio with her husband after living in Washington for nearly 5 years. Jill finally caught her breath and stopped in one place long enough to sit down and have dinner with me. Such sweet parts of my life. Women that I'm so grateful for. And then Nick entered my life - that one's definitely taking some getting used to. Attaching the word "boyfriend" to someone in regard to me is a very foreign concept. But his presence is appreciated probably more than he could fully understand. And it's not just those people solely that have been reminders - I have co-workers and former colleagues that get added to the list of friendships to be grateful for.
Then there are the details. I'm learning more and more about the little things that make a big difference, the value of not overlooking the small and the mundane. Kristen and I decided to go out on a limb and do a photo shoot of me in this old prom dress I have. We basically went around our house and farm and snapped photos of whatever we thought would look good. I told her I wanted a picture of me with my pony, Bud - but just of our feet. So here we are in my houndstooth-print rain boots and prom dress with Bud's little feet next to mine. It reminds me of the details because it's just a smaller piece of a bigger whole. I need to be reminded of that perspective more often.
Family
Families will forever be dysfunctional in some way, shape, or form in my book. I had never seen the movie Little Miss Sunshine before until a month or so ago. I spent more time laughing during that movie than I had in awhile - because splashed on the TV were tiny glimmers and reflections of my own family. I often sit back and tell myself, "We are so not normal. And I love it." Somehow we still manage to embrace family and all that it is. I snapped this photo of my niece while we were visiting my brother's family one night. I think it is one of the most precious photos of her because I caught it at just the right moment when she had this particular look on her face. I'm not sure what word I would use to describe it, but I love it either way.
9.05.2011
New Favorite
So, I may have discovered my new favorite design technique that I will probably use more than a normal person should. Erica sent me this link the other day from Pinterest and I immediately fell in love with the idea.
You basically paint your nails a base color, dip them in some rubbing alcohol, plaster some newspaper on them, peel it off, and voila! Love it!
8.31.2011
Makes Me Think
Every Wednesday morning one of the local radio stations has a segment called Zuko's CyberScoop. The DJ references a few websites that listeners have recommended or that he has stumbled across. He had one this morning, though, that caught my attention. And after reading a few, I'll admit that I got a little misty-eyed. I'll let the site do the talking.
http://www.makesmethink.com/
Today, I was sitting on a park bench eating a sandwich I made myself for lunch when an elderly couple pulled their car up under a nearby oak tree. They rolled down the windows and turned up some jazz music on the radio. Then the man got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for the woman, took her hand and helped her out of her seat, guided her about ten feet away from the car, and they slow danced for the next half hour under the oak tree. MMT
Today, I took a cab ride 16 blocks in Manhattan and when I got to my destination I realized I forgot my wallet at home. As I fumbled through my purse, trying to explain things to the cab driver and scrounge up enough cash, a man walked up behind me and handed me a $50 bill. “Thank you!” I said. “Let me have your address. I will pay you back.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an old receipt and wrote down an address. “You can drop off my money here,” he said. This afternoon I went to the address he gave me and found myself standing in front of a soup kitchen that had a sign out front that said, “Accepting cash donations to feed the hungry.” I walked in and donated the $50. MMT
Today, my father celebrated his 85th birthday in his hospice bed. Our entire family gathered in his room to celebrate with him. It was a bittersweet experience. And a few hours before he passed he used every bit of strength he had to read a love letter aloud to us that my mom had written to him back in 1946 when they first started dating. MMT
Today, I saw my elderly neighbor down at his mailbox getting his mail when a gust of wind ripped a large yellow envelope out of his hand and blew it down the street. As I got up to assist him, my dog, who was sitting on my front porch next to me, unexpectedly got up and went running after the envelope, caught it in her mouth halfway down the block, and brought it back to my neighbor. MMT
Today, I am a corporate accountant for a privately held chain of restaurants in the mid west. Our company employs several hundred people. The economic downturn has had a noticeable effect on the number of customers eating in our restaurants, but not a single employee has been laid off. But what our employees don't know is that the owner hasn't written himself a paycheck in six straight months. MMT
http://www.makesmethink.com/
Today, I was sitting on a park bench eating a sandwich I made myself for lunch when an elderly couple pulled their car up under a nearby oak tree. They rolled down the windows and turned up some jazz music on the radio. Then the man got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for the woman, took her hand and helped her out of her seat, guided her about ten feet away from the car, and they slow danced for the next half hour under the oak tree. MMT
Today, I took a cab ride 16 blocks in Manhattan and when I got to my destination I realized I forgot my wallet at home. As I fumbled through my purse, trying to explain things to the cab driver and scrounge up enough cash, a man walked up behind me and handed me a $50 bill. “Thank you!” I said. “Let me have your address. I will pay you back.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an old receipt and wrote down an address. “You can drop off my money here,” he said. This afternoon I went to the address he gave me and found myself standing in front of a soup kitchen that had a sign out front that said, “Accepting cash donations to feed the hungry.” I walked in and donated the $50. MMT
Today, my father celebrated his 85th birthday in his hospice bed. Our entire family gathered in his room to celebrate with him. It was a bittersweet experience. And a few hours before he passed he used every bit of strength he had to read a love letter aloud to us that my mom had written to him back in 1946 when they first started dating. MMT
Today, I saw my elderly neighbor down at his mailbox getting his mail when a gust of wind ripped a large yellow envelope out of his hand and blew it down the street. As I got up to assist him, my dog, who was sitting on my front porch next to me, unexpectedly got up and went running after the envelope, caught it in her mouth halfway down the block, and brought it back to my neighbor. MMT
Today, I am a corporate accountant for a privately held chain of restaurants in the mid west. Our company employs several hundred people. The economic downturn has had a noticeable effect on the number of customers eating in our restaurants, but not a single employee has been laid off. But what our employees don't know is that the owner hasn't written himself a paycheck in six straight months. MMT
8.30.2011
(Mis)Adventures in Baking
I had last night is what I considered a baking FAIL, which is not normal for me. I'd like to believe I'm a decent baker. However, I know I am prone to mistakes and failures, with the occasional recipe quite literally crashing and burning. For the most part, though, I can hold my own in the baking realm.
I first encountered this cupcake a few weeks ago when a lady at church made them for a small group leaders meeting. It was like discovering a whole new world when I first tasted this cupcake. Out-of-this-world good. Being from Ohio, we love our Buckeyes, and I'm not talking about the football team (although we love them, too, we are just having an unstable relationship at the moment). I'm talking about the chocolate peanut butter candies. These cupcakes were like eating a cake version of those Buckeyes.
So, I got the recipe from my friend and I morphed into a domestic goddess last night and decided to give the recipe a try. The general idea is that it's a yellow cake mix with peanut butter cookie dough in the middle. Sounds simple enough, right? That's what I thought.
I mix them up, stick the cookie dough in the center, and slide them into the oven. Twenty-three minutes later I'm wondering where I went wrong. My friend's cupcakes definitely didn't look like this. They overflowed the edges a little bit, which is fine. I can deal with that. But then when they began to cool, they started to collapse. And then the center got bigger and bigger until I was left with a gaping hole right in the middle of my cupcake - where, in theory, the peanut butter cookie dough should have filled up the space. Yeah, not so much. They ended up looking like donuts. It was like the scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Clark goes to slice the turkey - it looks so great and so amazing and then he cuts into and the entire thing deflates. That's how this felt.
So, I'm not sure what in the world I did to botch this one up, but I am going to have to call up the reinforcements and see what my strategy should be for next time. I mean, they tasted great and I'll definitely still eat them, they just look terrible.
I included the recipe below, which is from The Cake Mix Doctor Returns cookbook. I hope yours turn out better than mine.
INGREDIENTS
24 paper liners for cupcake pans
1 package plain yellow cake mix
3 tablespoons vanilla instant pudding mix
1 cup reduced fat sour cream
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 package (16.5 oz) refrigerated peanut butter cookie dough, chilled
Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 350. Line 24 cupcake cups with paper liners and set the pans aside.
Place the cake mix, pudding mix, sour cream, milk, oil, eggs and vanilla in a large mixing bowl and beat with an electric mixer on low speed for 30 seconds. Stop the machine and scrape down teh side of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Increase mixer speed to medium and beat for 2 minutes longer, scraping down the sides of the bowl again as needed. The batter should look well blended.
Set aside about 3/4 cup of the cupcake batter before filling the cupcake pans. Using the rest of the batter, spoon or scoop a heaping 1/4 cup of batter into each lined cupcake cup, filling it two thirds of the way full. (You will get between 22 and 24 cupcakes;remove empty liners, if any.)
Unwrap the cookie dough and slice the log lengthwise into four pieces. Then cut each piece into 6 even chunks. Place a chunk of cookie dough on top of each cupcake and push it down into the batter. Top each piece of cookie dough with about 1 teaspoon of the reserved cupcake batter.
Place the pans in the oven and bake the cupcakes until they are golden and the tops spring back when lightly pressed with a finger, 18-23 minutes. Remove the pans from oven and place them on wire racks to cool for 5 minutes. Remove cupcakes from pans and place on wire racks to cool for 15 more minutes before frosting.
8.22.2011
...After All
I'm pretty sure anybody walking by my desk today at the precise moment I read a particular email would probably have given me a really puzzled expression and asked if I was okay.
I was, in fact, okay - just rather stunned and too busy picking up my jaw from desk. Then awe settled in as I considered the intricacies of how God brings together the pieces of our world.
I received an email earlier today from my good friend Kate, whom I met while in Kenya last summer. We quickly became partners in crime and had many an adventure together, our safari probably being the most memorable. We've kept in touch since then and are both hoping to go back to Africa sometime next summer together, if God wills. Kate is currently in Burkina Faso with her daughter and son-in-law as those two are adopting a little boy from Burkina. Kate went along to help with the process and to be of assistance in taking care of her other grandchildren.
Well, this past Saturday one of the orphanage's staff members from another village came into town to run some errands and help with finalizing the adoption process of the young boy. Kate and this staff member get to chatting, Kate mentions she had been to Africa before with the Rafiki Foundation. The staff member turns to Kate and says, "Oh yeah, I know the Rafiki Foundation. I know a girl who went to Kenya with them." "Well, what's her name?" "Courtney." "You know Courtney?!"
Lo and behold, this staff member is Becky, a girl that I worked with for a year back in Missouri! Our offices were practically next to each other and we had had several conversations about Africa and our interests there. Becky was a year younger than me in grad school, starting her first year when I was starting my second year. She eventually left the program because she just knew that she wanted "to love on little black babies," so away to Africa she went. She's pretty much been there ever since.
Can you believe that? What are the odds? How amazing that God orchestrates these moments where individual lives intersect, but still somehow manage to leave us all connected.
It really is a small world.
After all.
I was, in fact, okay - just rather stunned and too busy picking up my jaw from desk. Then awe settled in as I considered the intricacies of how God brings together the pieces of our world.
I received an email earlier today from my good friend Kate, whom I met while in Kenya last summer. We quickly became partners in crime and had many an adventure together, our safari probably being the most memorable. We've kept in touch since then and are both hoping to go back to Africa sometime next summer together, if God wills. Kate is currently in Burkina Faso with her daughter and son-in-law as those two are adopting a little boy from Burkina. Kate went along to help with the process and to be of assistance in taking care of her other grandchildren.
Lo and behold, this staff member is Becky, a girl that I worked with for a year back in Missouri! Our offices were practically next to each other and we had had several conversations about Africa and our interests there. Becky was a year younger than me in grad school, starting her first year when I was starting my second year. She eventually left the program because she just knew that she wanted "to love on little black babies," so away to Africa she went. She's pretty much been there ever since.
Can you believe that? What are the odds? How amazing that God orchestrates these moments where individual lives intersect, but still somehow manage to leave us all connected.
It really is a small world.
After all.
8.19.2011
Big Picture Definitions
Oh, life. Sometimes I wonder about you. Like how the heck you and I are supposed to work together. Or how I'm supposed to survive you without completely botching everything up.
I have felt this tremendous pressure lately - probably self-imposed - to have somehow "arrived" at a job better than one as an admin assistant and to own a home or to at least be living somewhere other than with my parents. (I hate seeing that last part in black and white.) I wrestle back and forth - do I get an apartment? Do I buy house? What is this desire to own a home? As Christians, how much of the American Dream should we buy into? What does it look like to live in community? Where should I live? Why do we own homes? What does it ultimately signify? And if I go back to Africa for any length of time, shouldn't I really answer that question first before I go and buy a house? Am I less of a person for not being out on my own? What if people think I'm a slacker? Am I enabling some kind of crazy habit and I don't even realize it? Why do I have this job? Am I a good steward of my talents and skills? Why am I not better using the education I have? Should I be doing something different vocationally? Is this really how it's supposed to be?
I have no good answers, unfortunately. I suppose some of my thought process stems from reading books like Radical by David Platt and Crazy Love by Francis Chan, books that really challenge(d) me to reevaluate biblical truths versus things I had been told all my life, things that I just bought hook, line, and sinker. A lot of "why" questions came out as a result of those books - why this, why that, why not this, why not that.
I really appreciated what Shiao Chong wrote in an article for Comment:
But just who is it that we are supposed to be and what is the big picture definition? Who is writing that definition? And why are we defining our worth on whether we have a home or a corporate career? Why am I defining my worth based on those things? Not to say that those things are wrong - having things, pursuing a great job, etc - but the question must be "What is our motive?" Why am I seeking those things? And are we doing it from a biblical, Christ-centered worldview?
I sure wish I knew.
I have felt this tremendous pressure lately - probably self-imposed - to have somehow "arrived" at a job better than one as an admin assistant and to own a home or to at least be living somewhere other than with my parents. (I hate seeing that last part in black and white.) I wrestle back and forth - do I get an apartment? Do I buy house? What is this desire to own a home? As Christians, how much of the American Dream should we buy into? What does it look like to live in community? Where should I live? Why do we own homes? What does it ultimately signify? And if I go back to Africa for any length of time, shouldn't I really answer that question first before I go and buy a house? Am I less of a person for not being out on my own? What if people think I'm a slacker? Am I enabling some kind of crazy habit and I don't even realize it? Why do I have this job? Am I a good steward of my talents and skills? Why am I not better using the education I have? Should I be doing something different vocationally? Is this really how it's supposed to be?
I have no good answers, unfortunately. I suppose some of my thought process stems from reading books like Radical by David Platt and Crazy Love by Francis Chan, books that really challenge(d) me to reevaluate biblical truths versus things I had been told all my life, things that I just bought hook, line, and sinker. A lot of "why" questions came out as a result of those books - why this, why that, why not this, why not that.
I really appreciated what Shiao Chong wrote in an article for Comment:
If we don't make enough money to buy the latest technological gadgets, watch the latest movies, wear the latest fashions, eat at the trendiest places, in short, if we do not have the money power to participate in the culture of consumerism, to be a consumer, we are left out at the margins; we are not "in" or "hip"; we are made to feel that we are missing out. We are not worthy because we don't fit the big picture definition of who we are supposed to be.
But just who is it that we are supposed to be and what is the big picture definition? Who is writing that definition? And why are we defining our worth on whether we have a home or a corporate career? Why am I defining my worth based on those things? Not to say that those things are wrong - having things, pursuing a great job, etc - but the question must be "What is our motive?" Why am I seeking those things? And are we doing it from a biblical, Christ-centered worldview?
I sure wish I knew.
8.15.2011
"What? You Too?"
"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one." - C.S. Lewis
I must say, I've got it good when it comes to friendships. This past week I took a little road trip out to Missouri, back to my alma mater to spend a few days catching up with some of the dearest people in my life, and to also witness a friend's wedding.
It's always a whirlwind returning to Missouri for such weekend excursions, but every moment winds up being so valuable. As soon as I landed on Wednesday afternoon, I met up with a friend for dinner and then spent the evening with Ed and Debbie. I can't even begin to express how much that couple has influenced my life, particularly Debbie. I imagine college would have looked very different without her guidance.
Thursday was spent drinking and eating my way through conversations - and by drinking I mean French Vanilla cappuccinos and strawberry smoothies. I made a pit-stop back on campus to see former co-workers, people I consider dear friends. Friday was similar with a surprise visit from a friend that I wasn't expecting to see, but was so grateful to spend time with her. Just so many good conversations, the ones that just feel so right. The ones where it's a little bit like coming home. The ones that are exactly what C.S. Lewis was talking about, where you remember the moment when you first met and said, "Yes! Someone who gets me. It's nice to know I'm not alone in my zany-ness and quirks and insecurities."
It's nice to know I've got kindred spirits who are willing to laugh along with me, who know not to take ourselves too seriously. It's nice to know I've got a friend close by who will move with me into a convent when we've decided we've had enough of boys and their shenanigans. (We're totally joking, but we often say we're going to join a convent when we want to take the easy way out and just avoid boys all together. It's happened frequently as of late.) It's nice to know I've got friends who can talk Mizzou and Ohio State football as well as they can talk about theology, Tozer, and whether I should go with this nail polish color or that one. It's nice to know that everyone else's family is just as crazy as mine.
So, to my "other family" in Missouri - I am blessed because of you. And so very grateful.
8.05.2011
Here Comes Friday With a Script I Haven't Seen
It's amazing the timeliness of some recent events here lately. Just small things that have come at just the right moment. Maybe it was something that someone said, or an act of kindness that someone went out of their way to complete, or a sweet text message, or a bouquet of flowers from a dear friend, or an email from a respected pastor that spawned all sorts of possibilities and ideas. The little things that have added up to the big things and made me all the more grateful.
One of those timely small things was the poem below. I snatched it from Travis's blog, which seems to be a habit as of late. I happened to read it the morning after I had a minor meltdown about life and relationships, basically having my own pity-party and feeling like I was "ill-prepared for the privilege of living." I think it hit me at just the right time and spoke to so many of the emotions that were running through my head and my heart.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.
I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.
I have to guess on the spot
Just what this play’s all about.
Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for hammy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me even more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.
Words and impulses you can’t take back,
Stars you’ll never get counted,
Your character like a raincoat you button on the run -
The pitful results of all this unexpectedness.
If I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
Or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
Since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).
You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
Taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
Will become forever what I’ve done.
Wistawa Szymborska
One of those timely small things was the poem below. I snatched it from Travis's blog, which seems to be a habit as of late. I happened to read it the morning after I had a minor meltdown about life and relationships, basically having my own pity-party and feeling like I was "ill-prepared for the privilege of living." I think it hit me at just the right time and spoke to so many of the emotions that were running through my head and my heart.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.
I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.
I have to guess on the spot
Just what this play’s all about.
Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can’t conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for hammy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me even more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.
Words and impulses you can’t take back,
Stars you’ll never get counted,
Your character like a raincoat you button on the run -
The pitful results of all this unexpectedness.
If I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
Or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
Since I couldn’t even clear my throat offstage).
You’d be wrong to think that it’s just a slapdash quiz
Taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I’m standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there’s no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
Will become forever what I’ve done.
Wistawa Szymborska
7.30.2011
One Year Ago Today...
...I was on a plane headed to Nairobi, Kenya.
And I've spent every day since then missing it.
I know, you're probably tired of hearing about it. :P
7.28.2011
Because God Is
This is what I hold onto in days when I'm just not sure I'll ever get this thing called life "right":
"Because God is almighty, we have been set free from thinking that we need to manipulate circumstances, maneuver people, manufacture resources, or move ahead of God in order to bring to pass what He has for our lives. God has everything to see to it that it is done. He will do it perfectly, in the perfect way, at the perfect time. When we let Him bring to us what He has for us, we can receive it freely and enjoy it fully."
"Because God is almighty, we have been set free from thinking that we need to manipulate circumstances, maneuver people, manufacture resources, or move ahead of God in order to bring to pass what He has for our lives. God has everything to see to it that it is done. He will do it perfectly, in the perfect way, at the perfect time. When we let Him bring to us what He has for us, we can receive it freely and enjoy it fully."
7.26.2011
To The Loving Eye
To the fearful eye, all is threatening.
To the greedy eye, everything can be possessed.
To the judgmental eye, everything is closed in definitive frames.
To the resentful eye, everything is begrudged.
To the indifferent eye, nothing calls or awakens.
To the inferior eye, everything else is greater.
To the loving eye, everything is real.
From Travis's blog
To the greedy eye, everything can be possessed.
To the judgmental eye, everything is closed in definitive frames.
To the resentful eye, everything is begrudged.
To the indifferent eye, nothing calls or awakens.
To the inferior eye, everything else is greater.
To the loving eye, everything is real.
From Travis's blog
7.23.2011
Where to Go from Here
Sometimes my brain gets on overload and I get overwhelmed with all that floats around in my head. Too many thoughts. Too many books. Too many questions and not enough answers. Too many doubts. Too many fears. Too many what ifs and hows. Too many uncertainties. Too many "to do's." Too many longings and too many dreams.
I'm haunted every day by the thought of Africa. Haunted every day by the question of "What am I supposed to do next about this magnificent dream that is all wrapped up in terrible fears?"
I've been on this binge of reading a handful of books that are slowly - and radically - changing how I view poverty, my role in it, and my thoughts on Africa. I dove headlong into Dambisa Moyo's book Dead Aid: Why Aid is Not Working and How There is a Better Way for Africa. Far too many thoughts on that book to include in this post, but let's just say it's completely changed my view on how to appropriately respond to the needs in Africa.
Then I picked up Deborah Rodriguez's book Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil. It's about a woman who for all intents and purposes has no practical skills to offer the women in Afghanistan (or so it seems), where she goes to work with an NGO. She's not even sure why the NGO sent her - she's a hairdresser and everyone else on the team was either a doctor, lawyer, or nurse. What did she have to offer? It's the very question I wrestle with. What do I have to offer a world, a country, that is so desperately in need of practical skills? I don't teach, can't build things, can't heal people, and don't understand the first thing about what it really means to "live bent low," as Katie says. Rodriguez would go on to a open a beauty school that teaches Afghani women how to run their own salons so that they can lift themselves out of poverty and into a better life.
Add to that, Muhammad Yunus's book Banker to the Poor: Micro-lending and the Battle Against World Poverty. The guy founded the Grameen Bank in the 1970s. If you don't know what the Grameen Bank is, do your homework. It's staggering the impact his simple economic plan has had on the impoverished. Oh, and let's throw in Jacqueline Novogratz's book The Blue Sweater for good measure. The woman has a favorite blue sweater that she wore all the time as a kid. She eventually donates it to charity. Years later, while running through the streets of Uganda, she sees a little boy wearing a blue sweater. Her blue sweater. She now spends her life devoted to the Acumen Fund and to bridging the gap for the poorest of the poor. I want to work for someone like her someday. Heck, let's just work for her.
Now you can see why my brain is on overload. So many thoughts crowding in and around, over and underneath. And I have no idea what to do with it all, or even where to begin.
I wrote in my journal the other day - after I had printed out Katie's (see link above) blog post about living bent low:
"Am I willing to live bent low? I want to, but I'm afraid. All I know is that Africa burns within me."
What are you supposed to do with the fires within?
I'm haunted every day by the thought of Africa. Haunted every day by the question of "What am I supposed to do next about this magnificent dream that is all wrapped up in terrible fears?"
I've been on this binge of reading a handful of books that are slowly - and radically - changing how I view poverty, my role in it, and my thoughts on Africa. I dove headlong into Dambisa Moyo's book Dead Aid: Why Aid is Not Working and How There is a Better Way for Africa. Far too many thoughts on that book to include in this post, but let's just say it's completely changed my view on how to appropriately respond to the needs in Africa.
Then I picked up Deborah Rodriguez's book Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil. It's about a woman who for all intents and purposes has no practical skills to offer the women in Afghanistan (or so it seems), where she goes to work with an NGO. She's not even sure why the NGO sent her - she's a hairdresser and everyone else on the team was either a doctor, lawyer, or nurse. What did she have to offer? It's the very question I wrestle with. What do I have to offer a world, a country, that is so desperately in need of practical skills? I don't teach, can't build things, can't heal people, and don't understand the first thing about what it really means to "live bent low," as Katie says. Rodriguez would go on to a open a beauty school that teaches Afghani women how to run their own salons so that they can lift themselves out of poverty and into a better life.
Add to that, Muhammad Yunus's book Banker to the Poor: Micro-lending and the Battle Against World Poverty. The guy founded the Grameen Bank in the 1970s. If you don't know what the Grameen Bank is, do your homework. It's staggering the impact his simple economic plan has had on the impoverished. Oh, and let's throw in Jacqueline Novogratz's book The Blue Sweater for good measure. The woman has a favorite blue sweater that she wore all the time as a kid. She eventually donates it to charity. Years later, while running through the streets of Uganda, she sees a little boy wearing a blue sweater. Her blue sweater. She now spends her life devoted to the Acumen Fund and to bridging the gap for the poorest of the poor. I want to work for someone like her someday. Heck, let's just work for her.
Now you can see why my brain is on overload. So many thoughts crowding in and around, over and underneath. And I have no idea what to do with it all, or even where to begin.
I wrote in my journal the other day - after I had printed out Katie's (see link above) blog post about living bent low:
"Am I willing to live bent low? I want to, but I'm afraid. All I know is that Africa burns within me."
What are you supposed to do with the fires within?
7.21.2011
The Good Ol' Days
I'm sure we all have those small-town traditions that we get weird looks for when we mention them to friends. Like that Gator Fest my sorority sister went to once, down in the hollers of Texas. They just string up gators off a pole and don't think twice about it being odd. It's odd to me. Or the Rattlesnake Fest. I don't need a festival to celebrate snakes. I realize, however, that we all have our favorite events that we attend in our hometowns - or wherever - that conjure up great memories.
I think I have gotten my share of such Smalltown USA moments as of late. Last week I went down to the county fair to watch the annual rodeo. I remember the clown being much funnier. I imagine you can only be so funny, though, when a 1200-lb animal is about to poke you in the fanny. (Okay, it's probably more than a poke most of the time.) But my cousin and my brother's soon-to-be mother-in-law had never been to a rodeo. When you go to things like that, it's always great going with people who have never witnessed the spectacle before. It's way more fun to see it through their eyes.
Then there was the Steam Thresher parade. Granted, this year I missed the parade, but I have spent more than enough years at that parade to make up for missing a year or two. I always thought it was the world's longest parade as a kid. Pretty much if you had a tractor you could get in line. And two hours later, that line was still going.
Now, I come from a family of tractor pullers. Tractors are great. Good for all sorts of things. But I'm okay without them. I have just learned how to cope accordingly. I can speak the lingo and can tell you that diesel tractors blows black smoke while alcohols burn clear. I can tell you that some tractors have Allison jet engines on them (those really are pretty spectacular to watch, I must admit). I can tell you that there are modifieds, light super stocks, pro stocks, light pro stock, etc. Am I going to be driving one anytime soon? No. Could I write a book on it? No. But if I'm going to take part in family conversations, then I gotta have a clue.
But my favorite part of the Steam Threshers was always the draft horse pull. For some, that doesn't sound that entertaining, but I loved it. Well, years ago, the Threshers stopped having the pulls. But I discovered last week that another local county fair was hosting a draft horse pull. It was hotter than blue blazes yesterday but I was determined to go.
Draft horse pulls are typically divided into two classes - lightweights and heavyweights, heavyweights being anything over 3200-lbs, give or take. Some of the heavyweight teams were weighing in at a combined weight over 5000 lbs. Talk about some big boys. I'm pretty sure their necks were six of me combined, and their bellies would have been the size of a Smart Car. But it's kinda crazy to watch those teams pulling 6, 7, 8000-lbs of cement bricks and doing it like they were out for a Sunday stroll. And what for? Just to say my horse is the best.
I love Smalltown USA.
7.09.2011
Enough
Once upon a time, horses were my life. I had no identity apart from them, no identity apart from riding, showing, training. I was that little girl that always wanted a pony for my birthday. The only difference was that I actually got one. And I still have her, 16-17 years later. She'll probably live to be 40 just for spite.
There were a lot of lessons learned from the back of a horse. When you're riding a 1,000-pound animal, you better have a pretty good idea of what you want and when you want it. Horses are not dumb animals and they know when they can take advantage of your fears and hesitancy. A few tumbles down their backsides taught me that lesson.
But one of the hardest lessons I ever learned took me nearly 10 years to figure out.
I started riding when I was about 9 years old. Some trainers had moved into the area, having just built a new facility, so I started taking lessons with them. I would never use the word "natural" when it comes to describing my riding abilities. I wasn't one of those people who intuitively picked up on proper riding form from the get-go. I had to have it drilled in me, time and again, lesson after lesson, year after year. After a year or two, I started showing in some academy shows and down the road, I eventually started showing with the amateur and professional ranks.
Summer after summer, I would go to horse shows, entering this class and that class. Junior Exhibitor. Open. Show Pleasure. Country Pleasure. Western Pleasure. Morgan English Pleasure. Equitation. Maybe over 50 classes that I was in over the years.
But do you notice what's missing from the picture on the right?
There isn't a single blue ribbon.
And no, I don't have them stashed on the side somewhere just to prove my point.
There are literally no blue ribbons of mine to be had.
I never won.
In all those years of showing, not once did I leave that arena with a blue ribbon and garland of flowers draped around my horse's neck. Even if there were only two entries in the class, I still managed to lose.
I poured my heart and soul, blood, sweat, and tears, into that sport, convinced if I did everything just right, I would hit the big time and then actually be "somebody," convinced I would somehow "be enough."
I used to be so angry at myself, at God, at my horse, for never winning. I think it's the primary reason why I am not a competitive person today. I literally had it beaten out of me. I won't fight for people's attention, I won't fight in board games, I won't fight in simple games of volleyball. Ten years of showing horses and never winning took any and all desire out of me to ever win again.
But you know what dawned on me several years back? I had this really profound epiphany while watching Cool Runnings. I know, not the kind of movie you would think such a moment would come, but it did. There's a scene when John Candy, the coach of the Jamaican bobsled team, is talking to the driver, Darice. They are getting ready for the Olympic qualifier and Darice is in his hotel room studying all of the turns in the course. They are talking about winning the gold and how bad Darice wants it. Then John Candy very quietly says to Darice, looking him right in the eye, "If you're not enough without the gold medal, then you'll never be enough with it."
I don't pretend to understand the ways of God, but there is no doubt in my mind that He specifically withheld any success in the show ring for me to learn this very simple, but difficult lesson: If I'm not enough without the blue ribbon, I'll never be enough with it.
For so long, my self-esteem, my confidence, my life hung on that one little thing: a blue ribbon. And when I never got it - bitterness would probably be an understatement to describe what I felt. I felt worthless. I felt like everything had been in vain, years wasted. I used to think about how my trainers, my parents, my family, must be so disappointed with me. Always a failure. I felt like I wasn't enough.
But then God began pulling back the curtains and revealing to me just how valuable that lesson would become.
Because I realized that it wasn't just the blue ribbon.
If I am not enough without a boyfriend or a husband, I will never be enough with him.
If I am not enough without the dream career, I will never be enough with it.
If I am not enough without the accolades and the pats on the back, then I will never be enough with them.
Because the simple truth was that without Christ, I would never be enough. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how bad I wanted something, apart from Him, everything was and is futile.
It just took a lot of broken dreams to figure that one out. But I wouldn't trade that lesson for anything. I used to be so ashamed of my ribbons. For awhile I had them all displayed in my bedroom, hung from every ledge possible. Then I got really angry one day, just looking at them made me sick, so I took them all down, stuffed them in a box, and put them in the basement. I don't think they had seen the light of day in over 8 years until yesterday morning when I went to find them.
But now, I'm a little older and a little wiser. I can look at those ribbons, and instead of seeing all that I wasn't and all that I never became, all I see is this:
I am enough.
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