High/Low

A few years ago, I saw a movie (The Story of Us) that really disappointed me. It wasn't a bad movie, really - it just wasn't what I was expecting from a movie with that title. In any case, I did come away from the theater with something that has stuck with me: the ritual of High/Low.

This ritual is a "game," I guess, played at dinner tables and get-togethers of any sort. Here are the rules:
~Every person must tell the high point (best part) and low point (worst part) of their day.
~It is permissible to have more than one high, but no more than one low.
~You must have a high, but do not have to have a low.
Basically, it's a way to simultaneously catch up on what's going on with the people who are important to you AND see your own day in a different light. If you can't come up with more than one "low" thing that happened in a day and have to find at least one "high" thing that happened, it's bound to look a little bit better.

One of my roommates in college saw the movie with me and was similarly intrigued by the high/low ritual. As a result, the rest of our friends were subjected to random shouts of "High/Low!" at the table in the dining hall....which meant they were then required to evaluate their days in the above manner. It works really well. I'm really big on things being intentional, especially in relationships with the people I love, so I like it a lot.

Perspective

I was checking CNN.com this morning for random news tidbits when I stumbled across this article, about how the king of Saudi Arabia has pardoned a victim of rape from being severely punished because of what happened to her. Many thoughts came to mind, despite the fact that it's Monday morning and I'm so sleepy that my eyes keep crossing.

In college, I took a lot of anthropology classes, one of which was aptly named "Cultural Anthropology of Women." We studied the roles of women in different societies by reading books about them, and were able to get new and different perspectives on things we hear about in the news when we heard the women talk about the issues in their own voices. Particularly interesting was the realization of just how ethnocentric we are in the United States. Obviously, I knew this was a problem; how could I not, when we are steadily working to Americanize the world? We are so convinced that if it's what we do, it's right, and anything that might be different from that standard is, by definition, wrong. We never stop to consider how it feels to the people living in it, and we never think that maybe we're the ones who have it wrong.

In any case, the one thing that stuck with me was the personal testimony of a woman in Iran, who wears the traditional head scarf and is obedient to the norms established for women by the culture. I was surprised by what she had to say, as I think most of us in the class were. She didn't object to the requirement that she cover her face and body entirely at all times. Her thought was that if people couldn't see her, they couldn't very easily have lustful or inappropriate thoughts about her. That, to her (and to me), is a very good thing. How many of us, modest in our approach to dressing and presenting ourselves, have felt dirty and angry when the object of catcalls and whistles? By covering herself, this Iranian woman was glad to have a way to avoid that hassle. She was grateful to the tradition that we see as so restrictive and stifling. The same was true of the requirement that she stay separate from men at all times, for much the same reason.

It's interesting for me to have cultural perspective and be a follower of Christ. Clearly, some things that are done in other countries and other cultures are not biblical....but it has to be considered that those people are not followers of Christ, and therefore have no reason to adhere to the structure that we do. Can we say that something should not be done if it is perfectly fine according to their cultural standards and religious norms? I realize I'm bordering on complete permissiveness, but let me explain.

When I was in Spain, I attended 3 separate bullfights. Each "corrida" consists of 3 matadors, who each participate in two rounds. Let's do the math......that means that during any one afternoon of bullfighting, 6 bulls will die. Americans, accustomed to the demands of PETA and the Humane Society, find this appalling. "How can you call it a 'fight'? The bull doesn't stand a chance!" In Spanish culture, though, it's seen differently. Yes, there are those who don't like the custom, but generally bullfighting is seen as an art. It is a tribute to the power of the animal and honors the truly brave, both in the matador and the bull. It is a celebration of the beauty of animal instinct. It isn't seen, for the most part, as a brutal attack on an animal. In Spanish eyes, there is a lot more to it than that. It's really about context.

Can we judge them for the way they see things when they could just as easily judge and criticize us for our views? Can we condemn anyone simply because they do something differently than we do? In their eyes, are we not just as wrong?

It seems to me that if we are going to believe we are so right, we need to know as much as we can about the opposition so that we can meet their criticism of us head on. Why do they feel the way they do? Why do they do things that way? Once we see that, or at least try to see that, we can explain why we do things the way we do....and can begin to relate to one another as people. Before we were enemies because of the way we do things, we were all children of God. Until we are able to see that, we can never imagine that people will one day come to Christ.

So back to the article that sparked this whole philosophical discussion.... The world community was outraged by the treatment of the rape victim. Yes, in our cultural context, we should have been. She was a victim, but was being punished. That's not right. In the Saudi culture, though, it made sense. She - in their eyes - had violated an essential part of their cultural and religious norms. (It occurs to me now, as I'm writing this, that perhaps she herself, in their cultural context, thought she deserved to be punished. Let that roll around in your head for awhile.) The fact that the Saudi king has recanted and decided to pardon her, though, shows mercy...not that she has done something wrong and is now getting something she doesn't deserve...but that the king has seen something wrong...somehow changed his mind to see that maybe - just maybe - the way they've always done things might be wrong, and maybe a critical mindset needs to shift...has boldly stepped out to express this to a culture that probably won't understand. This is progress. Not in the sense that the western way has won out. Rather, this is progress in the sense that Jesus' way has won out, and while they may not acknowledge His name, they see that something about His way is right.

It only takes one person. That's how it has to start.

Tucked Away

I have a dream.

That is not a reference to a strong historical figure, but an acknowledgment that I have only recently been willing to make.

I have a dream. I have a goal.

That's really remarkably hard for me to say. An avowed perfectionist, declaring something to be a "dream" or a "goal" sets the bar pretty high. Saying that I dream of accomplishing something seems to be setting a standard for myself that, if not attained, indicates failure. And failure, to this perfectionist, is kryptonite.

I cannot stand the thought of failing. I cannot bear the realization that I worked for something, failed, and - worse - everyone knows it. It is hard enough to stand under the weight of my own scrutiny; that of others is stifling, even if it is only imagined.

Admitting that I dream of something - strive toward something - makes it real. It defines me in a way that would be good if I were more of an optimist. I could be defined by what I work toward and will, one day, accomplish. However, as a perfectionistic pessimist, I must face the reality that being defined by what I work toward opens the possibility that I could eventually be defined not by my success, but by that which I wanted so desperately but fell short of. That is unbearable.

I have recently thought, though, that our dreams define us only as long as we let them do so. It is the things we do to drive ourselves toward those dreams that forms who we are; we can be as big a fanatic over our dreams as we wish. The hard thing for me has been that for a long time, I had no dreams to speak of. Any concept of a "dream" I had in mind was so nebulous that I couldn't begin to describe it, but usually, I was blissfully unaware that it even existed. In college, I picked my major because it sounded interesting on the day of registration that forced me to declare a major, and while all of my friends and roommates had at least some concept of what they wanted to do with their lives, I couldn't say much. The ideas I had for my future were vague and generic, and when I told anyone what I wanted to do with my life, more often than not it was something that I thought sounded good.....not something that I was actually interested in or could envision myself doing.

As it turns out, life is a better educator than the classroom, and I've learned a lot more about myself in the 4 years since I graduated than I did in the 17 years that preceded. I know who I am, what I want (and equally important, what I don't want), and I know what my dreams are. They are concrete. They are mine, and they within reach.

And I'm glad to say that yes, they do exist. I have dreams.

Everyone's doing it!

With Thanksgiving being tomorrow, it's on everyone's mind: What are you thankful for?

Hearing it that much has its intended effect: I've been thinking about what I'm thankful for, and in the spirit of the season am going to share it with you. They're in no particular order, and this is not a complete list.

I'm thankful that God is changing me. I am, in very few ways, the same person I've always been. Changes abound in my life and in me, and I'm glad for that. I'm turning into a better version of myself.

I'm thankful that I am healthier and stronger this year than I was last year. Last year I had a panic attack on the morning of Thanksgiving, afraid of leaving the house. Last year I was miserable, and thankfully, this year I feel good. God has been doing a mighty work within me over the past year and I'm in a very different place now...and I'm thankful that I'll be in a different place next year.

I'm thankful for people who care. I am very blessed to have lots of people - family and friends - who ride with me on this roller coaster ride that is my life, and I'm very glad for that.

I'm thankful that I have a job to come to every day....and that I like it. I have a hard time getting going some mornings, and there are days (like today has been) where I wonder why I'm here because there's nothing to do, but I really do like it - in all sincerity - and I'm so grateful that I have a job at all.

I'm thankful for my husband. I see people who are unhappy with their spouses and I realize how incredibly blessed I am to have someone so sweet and understanding with whom I can spend my life. Something like what we have doesn't come along every day.

I'm thankful for my church. Before I got involved at Quest, I never understood the idea of a church "family." I get it now.

I'm thankful for my cat. Sounds silly, I know, but I've thought many times how glad I am that Kitter has been there with me when no one else was there physically. She has helped me through a lot of tough times, just by being there, and I'm grateful to her for that.

I'm thankful for hope. Without it, I can't make it.

Who's busier: beavers or bees?

Scott and I have had so much going on lately! It's CRAZY. For the longest time, we were just puttering from day to day, nothing going on at night....not much going on during the weekends.... Now, though, all of a sudden, there's ALWAYS something. It's a good thing, I think - we've all learned that I don't do well when I'm at leisure 24/7. It's teaching me some things, too.

First, SOME THINGS CAN WAIT. Take a shower and get ready for work, or wash those dishes that have been waiting for your attention for two days? Let's think. Wash the dishes, of course! (Just kidding.)

Second, SOME THINGS CANNOT WAIT. In spite of our busy-ness, we've made two things a priority: 1)each other, and 2)church stuff. That leads me to my next point....

Third, SOME THINGS SHOULD NOT HAVE TO WAIT. The busier I am, the less I feel I have time for things like - oh, I don't know - devotional time and prayer time and God time. The busier I am, though, the more I need that time....and the worse off I am if I don't get it. It reminds me of a book I saw one time. The title was something like, "Too Busy NOT to Pray." True, true.

Inspiration from JFK

Because I have the responsibility and privilege of doing the welcome and introduction every Sunday morning at church, I'm constantly thinking of what I can say to capture people's attention, simultaneously reminding them what we talked about last week, giving them a teaser as to where we might be going with this week's message, and NOT giving everything away and thereby spoiling the sermon. Because I also am responsible for the devos, I know the *general* direction the service will head in - though no specifics - and I often worry that I will say something that either doesn't fit AT ALL with what John is going to say, or that I will use an example or anecdote in my introduction that is too similar to what he planned on using in the message. We think a lot alike, so that's a real risk sometimes. So far, so good, though - I have yet to steal his main point, and have yet to lead the congregation down a trail completely separate from the point.

Last week, during the message, I was inspired by what John was saying (or shall we say, what God was saying through John), and immediately knew what I would say this week as a means of introduction. That rarely happens. (It would be nice if it happened more often, because that would spare me the anxiety of thinking of something throughout the week or - as is often the case - conjuring something up as I straighten my hair on Sunday mornings.) Anyhow, I have known since last Sunday that I wanted to use a quote from John F. Kennedy. Fridays being slow here at Boss Man's concrete company, I had time this morning to research it and make sure I had the quote right.

I found the entire inaugural address online (I LOVE the conveniences of the internet), read it all, and holy cow. Had I been around in January of 1961, I think I would have been a staunch supporter of JFK - though I have to say, I know little of his policies or ideas besides what are contained in the following message (which was, of course, meant to get people to feel enthusiastic that he was their president). Anyhow, I really liked the speech....and truth be told, I think Americans and the world could stand to hear a similar message today. Maybe I'll figure out a way to hack into the mass media and broadcast it during primetime......

(I'm highlighting things I really, really like. Don't get the wrong idea, that he said those things really loudly or with particular emphasis. I don't know. Unfortunately, I wasn't there.)

Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy, fellow citizens, we observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom—symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning—signifying renewal, as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three quarters ago.

The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe—the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.

We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this Nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

This much we pledge—and more.

To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United, there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided, there is little we can do—for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.

To those new States whom we welcome to the ranks of the free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom—and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside.

To those peoples in the huts and villages across the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required—not because the Communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge—to convert our good words into good deeds—in a new alliance for progress—to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this Hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house.

To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support—to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective—to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak—and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.

Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction.

We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.

But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course—both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind's final war.

So let us begin anew—remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.

Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us.

Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms—and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations.

Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce.

Let both sides unite to heed in all corners of the earth the command of Isaiah—to "undo the heavy burdens ... and to let the oppressed go free."

And if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor, not a new balance of power, but a new world of law, where the strong are just and the weak secure and the peace preserved.

All this will not be finished in the first 100 days. Nor will it be finished in the first 1,000 days, nor in the life of this Administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.

In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than in mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe.

Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation"—a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.

Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?

In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility—I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it—and the glow from that fire can truly light the world.

And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.

Driving Through Heaven

This morning I was in awe at what I saw on my way to work. After two cloudy/rainy days, the sunlight seemed particularly clear and bright this morning, illuminating an array of pastels streamed throughout the early-morning sky. Yellows and pinks intermingled with the welcome sight of blue skies, and golden rays of light poured out from behind similarly golden clouds. As I drove the windy country road I take to work, the hills and valleys provided perfect opportunities for a misty fog to collect along the horizon, while the sunlight gleamed overhead. A perfect start to my day.

Let's see........

I know I have a lot to write about, because I haven't written about random stuff I've done in a long time, and I feel like I should or else it's going to be really complicated when I finally get around to posting pictures (which I started last night, but was interrupted when our internet wouldn't work anymore).....but I think I'm going ot write about something on my heart instead. Hopefully that'll be interesting, too.

For one thing, I'm feeling pretty amazed and almost overwhelmed by how God works it all out. I've had this dream for years that I told no one and scarcely even allowed myself to think about, because it just seemed so far-fetched. I want to be published. Eventually, I want to write a women's devotional/inspirational book and have it published. I don't want to be famous; I only want to use the experiences I've had to help someone else, and I think it's getting pretty clear in my life that the gift of writing that I've been given is how I'm to do that. Still, though, I've never allowed myself to really think about it much, because it seemed too big for me. It wasn't even that I was consciously doubting God's ability to make it happen; it just seemed that that's a pretty big undertaking, and this is little ol' me we're talking about. I never allowed myself to nurture a dream I never thought would even come close to fruition. I met with my pastor yesterday afternoon about something that changes all of that, though. Without me ever telling him that I had this dream - because I had never told ANYONE, really - he asked me to adapt his sermons for publication. For now, it's only going to be in-house, with us distributing them online to those who want them and to our own community, but eventually he wants it to grow so that people can get the positive message about a relationship with Christ that we emphasize so strongly in our church. We want to get that out there, because our church and our approach is pretty unique and there are a lot of people, we think, that could truly benefit from the vision of ministry God has given us. Anyhow, I'm going to be working on that, and I'm so excited. It's such an exciting new avenue of ministry, and I'm really humbled that I'm the one God has called into this....because I DO feel like it's a calling. John asked me if I thought I had time to do this, and I was like, "Um....I'm supposed to do this. I'll make time." Please pray that I stay focused on what this is about, that I'll be protected from Satan's attempts to feed my ego through this, and that the words will be given to me. I don't want this to be about me in any way.

Also, I'm feeling so encouraged by the community of Christ. Last week, as many of you have read, I struggled a lot with nastiness here at work, and with feelings of bitterness and anger at worldly perspectives that I'm surrounded with all day. I'm not used to that - for the past several years, I've worked almost exclusively with other Christians, and haven't had to deal with those kinda of viewpoints. Today, though, one of the girls I work with - who I knew was a believer - brought me a CD of Christian music to listen to, and it has lifted me up so much throughout the day. It also sparked a good conversation with her, and encouraged me that I'm not alone here. Everyone here is nice - don't get me wrong - but it's SO helpful to know that there are others here who are standing against the gossip and slander and impurities.

Thirdly, the most recent series we've done at church (and the first one I'm going to adapt) was called "Worship (re)defined," trying to take what the church has made "worship" and change it to a more biblical concept. It was a phenomenal series, and I have been so challenged to make worship a 24/7 part of my life. If you're able to, I hope you'll listen to the sermons either online (www.thequestonline.com) or on CD.

Pictures are coming......eventually. There are lots, and it's taking me a little while. Maybe they'll be worth the wait. =)

Sometimes I just want to cry.

For awhile now, I've been doing so well - in reference to my depression and anxiety - that it has seemed surreal. AT my last appointment with my counselor, we talked about how things are going so well that sometimes I have to step back and wonder when it's going to get bad again....but I told her that I feel like I'm doing much better than I was because I don't, actually, feel that way. I don't wake up every morning wondering if this is the day that things go bad again, and I don't have to work to make myself have a decent day anymore. I'm doing very well, I'd say.

Today, though, I just want to cry. I have an abundance of frustrated tears welling up in me, and I'm afraid that with the least amount of provication, the full deluge may overtake me. These tears are different, though. These tears are the result of a day that keeps slapping me with things that seem directly aimed and intended to make my suppressed tears fall. My shock absorbers, as I have called them, don't seem to be working very well today. It isn't taking much to shake me and rattle me and knock me completely off-kilter.

The day started out well. It really did. It all started around lunchtime.

I have a particularly chauvinistic and, well, crass coworker. He's the type who spits his tobacco stuff in a Sprite bottle and has a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue desktop calendar. He really does. Usually, in spite of these things, he is a funny guy and - though we admittedly have nothing in common - we are able to talk and laugh and get along famously, in the manner that coworkers need to. He always has funny stories and interesting perspectives on things, and while I often see our conversations as a chance to let my little light shine, I do find myself laughing and enjoying the break from mileage charts and invoices. Anyhow, his first story of the day was not a good one. He began by telling me a joke he had played on two of our pump operators based on their sexual preferences. The story ended - finally - and I told him that was wrong, did not laugh, and continued with my work. This did not rattle me. What did rattle me was when, several hours later, he mentioned in conversation with me and another girl in the office that another girl we work with (stories are hard to tell sometimes when you don't want to use names) needs to have a glass desk. Do you get it? It took me a second, and I was shocked when I realized what he meant. I stared at him, told him again that that wasn't right, and walked away....perturbed and apalled. Fortunately, it was time for lunch, so after resolving that I would never wear a skirt here, I left for my lunch break.

We're hosting our first "dinner party" tomorrow night, for about 4 couples from church, and I only yesterday decided on the menu. I decided that during lunch today I would go to the store to get wht I needed. I shop at Kroger, a southern (I think) phenomenon that gives big-time savings when you have the handy-dandy Kroger card. I shop very intentionally...looking all the time for the yellow tags that indicate extra savings when I swipe my little card. Today, I was particularly excited because I had found several things I needed that were substantially discounted for cardholders, so I knew the bill would be a lot less than it otherwise would have been. Long story short, I get to thte register, try to give the girl (named Cappuccino....can you believe that?) my card, and she wouldn't take it. She said it would go through when I scanned it in the debit.credit card thingy, because it's also a credit card. I swipe....the receipt prints, and there are no discounts. NONE. I said, "Um.....it didn't give me my discounts because of the card," and she said, "Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. See? It's done," and kind of shrugged her shoulders. It's no big deal to her, clearly, but it's a big deal to me. She was so casual and uncaring about it that I became LIVID. I was seething. I don't get mad about thigns usually, but knowing that she could have just wasted at least $10 of our money and didn't want to do ANYTHING to try to fix it just pushed me over the top. I was angry at her and angry at myself for being angry. I prayed on my way back to work, remembering from my recent Bible study lesson that bad thoughts are a choice. I did NOT want this girl named Cappuccino to ruin my day. I was determined to shake it off.

When I got back to my desk, the phone rang....for Boss Man. Hurray. This time, I knew he was here and was proud to be able to say that for sure. I even knew that this was not a telemarketer or other unappealing person, and that he would definitely want to talk to him. I paged back to Boss Man's office....and was greeted with this terse response: "Take a message, will you? I'm on the phone." My thought immediately became, "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHEN YOU'RE ON THE PHONE IF YOU INSIST ON USING YOUR CELL PHONE????????" I took a message, snuck back into Boss Man's office to deliver it, and returned to my desk. *deep breaths* Back to work.

The door chimes ring. Someone is coming into the office and, as receptionist, it's my duty to greet them. I welcomed him with a smile, as I always do, and asked what I could do to help him. He was on crutches, wearing ripped up clothes, and smelled of alcohol, so it wasn't long before I realized this was going to be complicated. He proceeded to tell me his life story which, under other circumstances, I might have been eager to hear, but - with my state of mind being what it has become today - I'm afraid I was not the most comforting person in his time of strife. That made me feel bad, because I realized how bad my attitude was, so when he said he needed to talk to one of the project managers, I was happy to comply. I called the manager and started telling him what was going on while the man continued to tell me his story....getting louder and louder because I was, so rudely, trying to talk over him. As I talked to the manager on the phone, he appeared behind me. HOW DO THESE PEOPLE DO THAT? I thought we were a concrete company, not a school for magicians! He handled Mr. Intoxicated and then told me what I should have done in that situation. Wonderful. Now I have to anticipate every Mr. Intoxicated and Ms. Drama Queen that waltzes through our door, AND I have to hear the expletive-laced descriptions of them when they leave.

I'm sorry, y'all. I might cry a little on my way home, and I won't consider that a relapse.

Confessions of an Obsession Addict

Is there a personality type that is particularly prone to becoming obsessed with things? I know that there has been a gene isolated that might indicate that some people are more prone to addictions to alcohol and the like, but I wonder if there is something that predisposes people to becoming overly enthusiastic about things which do not necessarily warrant such excitement.

This question is posed, of course, for a reason. I am addicted to obsessions. Weird, you say? Let me explain.

I am obsessed with shoes. I have more pairs than anyone I know.....except, perhaps, for Mom (which only feeds into my theory that this might somehow be a genetic thing). I can't help it. I go into a store looking for toothpaste, and I come out with shoes. I leave my house with the intention of dropping off a bag of castoffs at Goodwill, and before I know it, I'm trying on a pair of someone else's casted-off boots. I plan my outfits according to what shoes I feel like wearing, and if I don't feel like my shoes go with my ensemble, my day is all off kilter. Scott - a fairly typical low-maintenance man - has only one square foot in which to store his 3 pairs of shoes in our closet, while I have completely overwhelmed the enormous basket designated for mine to such an extent that I have one downstairs for the shoes that are in season, and another upstairs for those that will have to wait a few more months to be worn. It's not healthy. I know this, and yet I still can't stop thinking about the pair of red patent leather peep-toe pumps I saw at Target the other day.

On to purses. Some would say that the days of changing your purse to match your outfit (*ahem* shoes) are long gone, but I have to argue. If it's going to be slung over my shoulder all day, why should I willingly use one that clashes with the outfit that I have carefully put together? This habit, based on the aforementioned obsession with footwear, leads logically to only one thing: a huge assortment of handbags. Big black ones, small black ones. Big blue ones, big brown striped ones, small pink ones, small multicolored ones (thanks, Becca!).....this, too, is not healthy but is, to my chagrin, another of my weaknesses.

Foods are not exempt from my penchant for becoming obsessed. Once I re-entered the caffeinated world, it was as though a virtual Pandora's box had been flung open. One might say that it's only natural to become particularly interested in something which has been off limits for so long, or that I was merely "making up for lost time." However, I don't think that my newfound and perpetual craving for all things caffeinated was within those "normal" boundaries. Chocolate, for example, has become an essential ingredient in my diet. While before going decaf I ate it only occasionally and could easily do without it, I now have to have it. It's a need. Likewise, sweet tea - which is credited with being what makes southern girls so sweet - suddenly replaced water as my drink of choice. At every meal. Similarly, since starting work, I have developed a new caffeinated obsession which, until now, has not been spoken of to anyone. I have fallen into the trap that has seized much of our country and the western world at large. I evaded it for a long, long time.....but it has caught up with me. One morning last week I stopped at a gas station to grab snacks to have in my desk, and something glimmering in the refrigerator caught my eye. (It probably wasn't actually glimmering, but my sleepiness on that particular morning somehow made it much more appealing.) Starbucks Frappuccino. Oh....my.....goodness. I had never had one, but having heard how delectable they are and being open to try something that might - just might - wake me up without putting me to sleep first (as sugar still will do)....I bought one (in mocha flavor, of course). Not a workday has passed since that I have not indulged this new, secret obsession. They taste good, of course (wow, are they good), and they do seem to give me a boost in the morning, but I don't know why I have to have them. I have Starbucks on the brain. It's an obsession. Truly.

I've heard of athletes being obsessed with certain rituals, such as wearing the same pair of socks for every game, eating the same thing the morning of every big competition, or walking around the locker room in a certain direction before suiting up in their uniforms. These are definitely obsessions, but they're more along the lines of superstitions. It worked once, and now they are convinced that it will always work. I am not a superstitious person. I don't recall ever having my life saved because of the ever-growing mountain of shoes in my closet, and I know that life will not always be peachy as long as I begin my days with a frappuccino. I am an intelligent person. I know that. Why, then, am I so mindlessly driven toward these things?

Naturally, this can be explained spiritually. (Some of this can probably be explained chemically, too, but allow me to go in this direction.) I'm looking for something, clearly. There's obviously something that I feel is missing from my life. I must be trying to fix something that is out of whack in my life. My conclusion is this: the God-shaped hole in my heart is plugged with a high heel.

My insecurities....my worries....my self-doubt and occasional self-loathing.... There is something inside me that thinks those things can be easily fixed (or, at least, masked) with something tangible. If I have a pair of shoes that perfectly matches everything I could ever want to wear, I'll be happy. If I have a purse that everyone notices and compliments me on, I'll feel better about myself. If I drink this drink, it will make me feel good. The truth, though, is that if anything, those things only make me feel worse. I'll feel good temporarily if I look in the mirror and like what I see, but as I walk away from the mirror and into my day, my conscience screams and my spirit cries out for something more than a cute outfit. The thirst in my soul is deeper than any mixed coffee drink can quench. My existence is starving so that my feet can look good (and, honestly, not feel very good most of the time).

I don't need more shoes, another purse, or another bottle of frappe. I need more Jesus. That's the only obsession I need.

Magnificent Obsession

Steven Curtis Chapman

Lord, You know how much I want to know so much In the way of answers and explanations.

I have cried and prayed and still I seem to stay in the middle of life’s complications.

All this pursuing leaves me feeling like I’m chasing down the wind, but now it’s brought me back to You and I can see again...
This is everything I want. This is everything I need. I want this to be my one consuming passion.

Everything my heart desires Lord, I want it all to be for You, Jesus. Be my magnificent obsession.
So capture my heart again. Take me to depths I’ve never been, into the riches of Your grace and Your mercy.

Return me to the cross and let me be completely lost in the wonder of the love that You’ve shown me.

Cut through these chains that tie me down to so many lesser things. Let all my dreams fall to the ground until this one remains.
You are everything I want, and You are everything I need. Lord, You are all my heart desires. You are everything to me.
You are everything I want, You are everything I need. I want You to be my one consuming passion.

Everything my heart desires, Lord, I want it all to be for You, I want it all to be for You.

Menein

I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.
I chase nothing that matters, and am detached from everything with meaning.
I am faithful to the religion of myself.

Each day dawns with good intentions.
My feet hit the floor with little more than a detached nod in Your direction.
Before the sleep has even left my eyes my day of worship begins, and I move through my routine. A lifeless robot, I am enslaved to myself.
Dry, empty, and lifeless, I wander through the desert of my day.
Moving and chasing and following myself.
I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.

Life pulls and tugs, from the dawn of day until my eyes finally close in sleep.
There is always something demanding my full attention, allowing not even a detached nod in Your direction.
In the world my eyes can see, concerns of the heart and concerns of the soul are useless. There is no time or energy left for anything but my faithful worship of my lifeless god.
I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.

My ambition, my plans, and my pride.
My world, my life, my self.

I pursue myself until my life is a creation of my own two hands, separate from anything with meaning.
I have no purpose.
I am pointless.
I bear no fruit. Nothing good can come from me while I faithfully practice the religion of me.
The world is mine….and my soul is lost.
I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.

Yet there is a vine that grows through my life, quietly asking for my attention.
It promises life and peace and a fruitful existence.
Green in all seasons and blooming as would a tree by a stream.
This is the life the vine promises, but
doing fine on my own, I ignore its gentle nudges in favor of my own fickle and demanding god. In slow moments I hear it beckoning and am tempted by its offer, but return still to a life detached from the vine.

In spite of myself, I want more.
In spite of it all, I am drawn to this vine that lovingly pursues me.
At my core – in my soul – I want the vine and all it promises.
I see truth in the vine, and want to join with the vine on this journey of life.
I see You in the vine – the true God, the only One worthy of my worship and my time.
I see You there. I want to be with You there.
I want to connect with You there.
I want to know You there.
I want to feel You there.
I want to find You there, in the vine.

But still I run. There is no time for You or for the vine while I worship myself.
I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.
In worship of this god of self, my mind wanders,
My life fills up,
My time slips away,
And day after day passes apart from the vine. Day after day my feet touch the floor, I barely nod in Your direction, and I begin my day of worship.
Day after day, night after night I fight connection with the vine, pursuing only myself, and find that freedom from the vine is not freedom at all, and a life apart from the vine is not real life.
The process is slow but inevitable. I wither…
And fade…
And die
Apart from the vine.
But I am my own god, and I am faithful to my religion.

Angry All Over Again

Well....I wrote that post about my depression and anxiety and, most of all, my agoraphobia, and mentioned the disservice people like Tom Cruise do on the mental health community when they speak about things they don't understand. Becca didn't know what he had said, and since I cited him as a specific example, I went back to make sure I had my facts straight. YouTube strikes again, and I found this: Tom Cruise on Psychiatry. (You may want to watch that now, as I'm going to make a lot of references to it in a minute, I think.) As I sat here watching the interview, I was sick to my stomach. 'Thanks a lot, Tom," I said. "Way to promote understanding." I even thumped him on my computer screen. I got pretty upset, and once I calmed down some, I decided that I would take a road I had before not even considered. I went to the official Scientology website, since he cited Scientology as a part of his beliefs, to find out what they actually say about such things. Here's what I found there: "In Scientology no one is asked to accept anything as belief or on faith. That which is true for you is what you have observed to be true. An individual discovers for himself that Scientology works by personally applying its principles and observing or experiencing results."

Now, I'm all for people searching and trying to find meaning for their lives. I understand that sometimes people have to go through a period of seeking answers before they settle on a belief system. However, when a core value of the belief system he or she settles on is that "that which is true is what you have observed to be true," it seems to me that one such person would be more understanding of what someone else is going through. Such a person, who believes that his truth is what he observes, should not speak out on something he has not personally observed, but has only read about. Such a person should not say that having observed a child on Ritalin does not make him an expert, because such a person would take what he has observed to be true. Scientology seems to be a very open-minded religion, but even for a follower of such a belief system, Tom seems very misguided. I'm not attacking Scientology.....though I could, because it seems really messed up.....but I'm attacking the thoughts that Tom expressed, and his method and reason for doing so. He contradicts himself, and as one who has benefited from something he says does not exist I resent that. *deep breaths* I don't know. I don't usually express very strong opinions about things, except for things that I have personally experienced, and I think that might be an approach Mr. Cruise might want to try. That's all.

The Irony of an Agoraphobics' Support Group

This morning I had the Ellen Degeneres show on while I checked email and read blogs. I don't usually watch that show, but the TV was already on channel 10 when I turned it on, and I really only wanted it on for noise so it didn't matter what was on. Her first guest was some guy from Grey's Anatomy, and I didn't pay any attention to that. She announced her second guest - the Southern chef Paula Dean - and I prepared to change the channel. I don't know why, but I've had a serious aversion to her....more so than Rachael Ray, even....despite my loyalty to most things southern. I'm really easily bothered by weird voices or extreme accents, somehow, so you can see why I don't particularly like them. Other than that, though, I don't know what my problem was with them, and I wasn't particularly in the mood to hear Paula as I was trying to read about the squirrels outside Becca's house and children saying the pledge of allegiance. As they played the little blurb of what they were going to talk about during the interview, though, I dropped the remote and suddenly became very attentive. Apparently, Paula Dean had a 20-year bout with agoraphobia.

Having been officially diagnosed with agoraphobia (in the Greek, "fear of the marketplace"), and knowing that agoraphobia is something that is managed and not really ever cured, I became very interested in what I had previously wanted to avoid. I had to hear what she had to say. Agoraphobia is one of those things that comes with a stigma. It's kind of like depression used to be (and still kind of is, in some circles). The view is that it's a mental thing - something you can set your mind to getting over and it's not really a problem. People think it's irrational and doesn't make any sense if they've never been there, and they therefore think it's not real. Because of that - and the prevailing thought that people who struggle with mood disorders are somehow weak and/or crazy - most people who have this kind of problem don't want to talk about it. The fear is that people will look at you differently if they know. (That fear, for me, was a big factor in keeping me in my hole. If I didn't go out, people wouldn't have to know. If I didn't go out, there was no risk of having a panic attack in front of people.) It probably goes without saying, then, that when I hear someone openly talk about agoraphobia or depression or anxiety disorder, I kind of pounce on them. I always want to hear what they have to say.

And what she said was all very true. Being a talk show with other guests, there wasn't a lot of time for her to elaborate on what she went through, but she did say some things that made me throw my hands up in the air and shout, "Thank you!" It helps so much to have people come out and say things that clear the air or clarify what it's all about. It's kind of like when Brooke Shields was so open in talking about her postpartum depression. Other women realized they weren't crazy and were willing to talk about it themselves, and the stigma has lessened (no thanks to people like Tom Cruise, who have to open their big mouths and say what they think about the whole thing when they really have no idea). It helped me a lot.

One of the ladies from the Women of Faith Conferences - Patsy Clairmont - dealt with the same thing, and she has been very open about it in her books and devotionals. I actually wrote to her once, and she sent me a bunch of things that helped her through it and encouraged me with her own story. It's so amazing how, as Becca recently pointed out that Solomon said, there's nothing new under the sun. If you're going through something, there is always someone out there who has been through the same thing. The song "Lean On Me" says that no one can share the burdens that you don't let show, and that resonates deeply with me. Agoraphobia's curse is that it drives you into a hole, and unless you live with someone else who has the same problem, there's no empathy there. Sympathy -yes, but no empathy. No one understands like someone who has been there, but the mind of someone with a mood disorder convinces the person that no one needs to know. If we don't talk about it, no one will know and no one will judge us. Unfortunately, though, that also means that no one can help us.

A support group for agoraphobics, then, is most ironic. Much-needed and invaluable, but ironic.

A Battlefield in My Mind

I went back to the temp agencies today. I've been stubborn and selfish and just haven't wanted to do that. It's hard to explain why without sounding conceited and egotistical. The thing is, I don't want to be caught in another job where I am just a warm body. I don't want to get a job because I happened to be the name they drew out of the hat, and I don't want something that has nothing to do with me, my talents, or my qualifications. I'm in this weird place where I'm really working through all of this depression and self-esteem baggage, and am really starting to see that I do have talents and things to offer. Coming to that realization does not reconcile well with job hunting, because I'm also starting to see that I might have to settle for a job - any job - that is offered to me, simply because I need to work. How do you reconcile that? On one hand, I don't want to settle for just anything, but I don't really think I'm in a position where I can be so selective that I turn things down, either. Argh! I'm so confused, you know?

On a somewhat related note, we had a covered dish supper at church tonight (where I ate way more than anyone else there, I think....I can't help it at those things!) and after that there was a meeting for a new women's Bible study they're starting in a couple of weeks. It's Joyce Meyer's Battlefield of the Mind, and I can't wait. I have the devotional book and LOVE it, so I'm thrilled that we're going to do this. I'm excited about getting to know some of the other women in the church, too, so this will be a really good thing, I think.

Mailboxes

I'm sitting out on the front porch, in my nifty rocking chair, waiting for Scott to get home from work. As I sit here, I can't help but notice that our mailbox is crooked. This is not a new realization. We have known it is crooked for some time now, and we know why it is in that subtle state of disrepair.

Our mailbox is a frequent target for wayward cars. Since Scott moved out here about 6 years ago, this mailbox has been hit by a car 12 times. The post has been shattered, splintered, and replaced several times. The whole setup - mailbox, post, and all - has taken more than one flight across our yard, and the most recent of which sent it sailing across our driveway and into the other half of the yard. The box has been run over, smashed, sent airborne, and attacked with beer bottles and baseball bats. The hole it sits in has been cemented over and over again, and while I desperately want to plant some flowers out there around it, I can't help but think that before long, they will probably die a violent and untimely death that has nothing to do with my own botanical incompetence. It is a sad state of affairs, let me tell you.

There are several strange things about this whole situation. First, if you've been to our house, hitting our mailbox seems almost physically impossible. We do not live on a curve; in fact, the road in front of our house is wider than in the rest of the neighborhood, because we live near the entrance and the road is widening to accommodate the median/flowerbed at the entrance. Second, the mailbox in question sits not 20 feet from a light post, which has never been hit in one of these crazed fits of mailbox destruction. There have been tracks in our yard that seemed to lead toward it, but veered at the last possible moment. Third, my dear husband - for whatever reason - has never replaced the box. The post has been replaced countless times, but each time it happens, Scott just pounds the dents and dings back out and remounts the invincible mailbox. I think it is a test of will, at this point, and I think (whether he would admit it or not) Scott is somewhat attached to the mailbox. They've been through so much together that it would be hard to let it go. Scott has even said that if we ever move, the mailbox is coming with us.

The most recent attempt at mailbox demolition came at around 6:00 in the morning a couple of weeks ago. Scott awoke to our neighbor calling and laughing, saying that she was outside with a lady whose son had just plowed over our mailbox. (The story was that the kid's windshield was fogged up and he couldn't see, and he hit the mailbox with his mirror. Now, call me crazy, but would a side mirror ever be low or strong enough to break the post off at ground level and send the whole shebang 50 feet in the air across our yard? I think not.) Cheryl - our neighbor - was not being insensitive; she merely recognized the humor of the situation. She has lived here longer than Scott has and has witnessed all of the violent episodes directed at our poor, innocent mailbox. (Prior to this last one, Cheryl's stepdaughter backed into it and - after a very nice job rebuilding it - the box was back in business.....for awhile.) The lady promised that her son would be back that afternoon to fix the mailbox, and Scott told her - you guessed it - that she didn't have to worry about replacing the mailbox itself, but that if she wanted to have her son build a new post, that'd be great. We got home late that night from cell group and Scott went out to check out the teenager's craftsmanship. Irritated, he came back up the driveway and said that the kid hadn't even cemented it into the ground. Scott had been able to pick the thing - post and all - up out of the humongous hole the kid dug. No concrete. After a week or so, Scott called the kid's dad and told him about the bad job his son had done and, well....long story short, the kid came back and fixed it with concrete.....sort of. Now it's concreted in, all right, but it's crooked. Crooked in two directions. Apparently today's youth don't know how to use a level, and that's where we are today.

Being the way that I am, I was able to come up with a spiritual application for this whole thing. The youth minister inside of me will not give up! This is what I came up with: We are all like my mailbox. We get banged up, broken, chipped, and on the verge of ruin, but God keeps banging the dents out of us. He never gives up on us or revokes the special calling He has on our lives. He never says, "Well, maybe I'll get someone else." He wants us, and no matter what happens to us - no matter how the world beats us up and sin tries to take us down - he keeps reshaping us and putting us back into operation. He never gives up on us and refuses to believe we could be so messed up that He can't use us. How great is that?

An undeniable and irresistible craving

I'm so hungry and thirsty I can't stand it. Parched.....famished.....starving for something, yet never satisfied..... The hunger is not for food, and the thirst will not be quenched by water.

I need more of Jesus. I need more. I feel Him and crave Him and need Him. I need more of Him to satisfy this blinding urge within me. I'm not content unless my focus is on Him. I need more. I need to refocus my energy....not so much on myself and my life, and more on Him. That's the only way to finally be satisfied. I feel like such a prodigal.....always getting distracted by my own life and wandering off, only to realize how badly I miss Him and need Him. I come back, head down and somewhat ashamed at my incessant stubbornness, and He takes me right back. I feel so undeserving of the million second chances He affords me.

Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy, and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. (Isaiah 55:1-2)

Update

The job search continues.

After a LOT of research on the company that contacted me last week, I decided to tactfully notify them that I would not be coming to the meeting on Friday. It was totally and completely SALES. I cannot sell ANYTHING. Period. If I try and give someone a cupcake and they say no, I usually think, "Cool. That's your thing. More for me." Selling insurance to senior citizens would not be my forte. I would be a complete softy, and not to mention, I love older adults. They make me smile, and I would NOT be able to try to force something on them. I wouldn't make any money unless I sold anything......so, no. Not for me. I don't feel like I'm really in a position to be picky, but I am definitely not in a position to do just any job, because we all know what happens when I hate my job.

And, on that note, I went back to my doctor Friday and she's changing my medication. I'm actually pretty excited about this, because allegedly my side effects will be all but gone within a few weeks. That's a very, very good thing.

Let's see......what else? I'm not sure..... I'll probably think of something in about 10 minutes, but for now, that's all. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. I'm going kind of crazy.

God is good. Even at 2 AM.

A Workman Approved by God

Keep reminding them of these things. Warn them before God against quarreling about words; it is of no value, and only ruins those who listen. Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. Avoid Godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly. Their teaching will spread like gangrene. Among them are Hymenaeus and Philetus, who have wandered away from the truth. They say that the resurrection has already taken place, and they destroy the faith of some. Nevertheless, God's solid foundation stands firm, sealed with this inscription: "The Lord knows those who are His, " and, "Everyone who confesses the name of the Lord must turn away from wickedness."

In a large house there are articles not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for noble purposes and some for ignoble. If a man cleanses himself from the latter, he will be an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.

Flee the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will.

(2 Timothy 2:14-26)

As you've probably already figured out, I've had quite the mental and spiritual battle going on this week and especially tonight. I had one of my panic attacks earlier this evening - the first one in a long time - and I couldn't get my breath through the feeling of defeat and hopelessness. I write this tonight (this morning?) knowing that I might well step on some toes, but I have to write it anyway. The thing is, my blog has literally become my journal (as I feared it would) and I need to vent and share my thoughts tonight, even if it's only to help me sort them out myself. The issue being dealt with tonight is that of words, and our misuse of them, and the resulting drama that ensues.

This particular situation has been going on this week in full force, and it is keeping me up at night.....dominating my thoughts and conversations with Scott.....giving me regular tension headaches..... Until tonight, though, I felt like I had it under control, at least in my own mind. Until tonight, I thought I was okay. Then came the brokenness. And the tears, and the fear that I've completely screwed everything up this time....and I didn't know what to do. Seriously, I didn't know what to do.

Unable to quiet my mind enough to even think about sleep, I wrote and prayed and really looked to God for answers. I just needed truth, because my week has been so filled with lies and misunderstandings and anger and frustration and unfair accusations....and I knew that while cute pictures of cats doing funny things might make me smile, I needed God's Word to penetrate the ache I was developing in my soul. Faithful as He always is, He led me to the above passage of scripture, which spoke so clearly to my situation and to the questions and doubts I had in my mind. It's so beautiful how God hears us when we beg Him for answers, and if we're sincere in our desire for truth He'll point us straight to it....however hard it may be to hear. This particular passage was extremely convicting for me - for more than one reason - and it not only tells me something I need to stop doing, but also tells me something I need to do that I have blatantly neglected.....perhaps to the detriment of my family's relationships with each other. It feels so good to have an answer, though, that it seems reasonable and possible and I'm even eager to get started. It could be the fact that it's 2 AM and there isn't much I can actually do about it now that sparks my motivation, but I feel like I have God's endorsement to do something I thought I might need to do, and knowing I go with God's blessing helps give me courage. I'm very non-confrontational, and I hate the idea of stepping on toes. I've been vague with this post intentionally, and even thought about changing my entire blog address because while I felt like I needed to write and someone else might need to read what I have to say, I was deathly afraid of someone reading it and misconstruing these words, too, and turning them against me as they have before. I was so scared that I almost didn't write....I almost didn't even ask God what to do....I almost hid this post from everyone so that I didn't somehow get myself into trouble. And then I realized that's stupid. This passage even says that God's workers shouldn't be ashamed, so that, too, is something for me to work on. Conviction is hard, but direction and affirmation is wonderful. God is so good to hear me and guide my wandering eyes and console my bleeding heart with His word. It fell on me like a soothing balm, and when I finished reading it I read it again....and again.....and again.....desperate to get everything it said and not to miss anything. Perhaps now, with this quiet I feel coming over me, I can rest the rest of one who has heard from her God.

I lift my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip - He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. (Psalm 121)

Misconstrued

Words -
carelessly chosen and thoughtlessly thrown -
from heart to wounded heart are aimed.
An arsenal endlessly supplied endlessly flows with
acidic diatribes masked by a smile while
sweet sentiments hide deep darkness and deceive ears which capture them.
Those unspoken as bitter as friendships lost
while claimed good intentions hinder understanding.
Misspoken -
Misunderstood -
Misconstrued -
words like stones fall on open wounds and vulnerable souls,
breaking hearts under the burden of sin.
Tears fall and words fail,
Sleep lost while memories last of times before the truth -
before understanding -
before realization -
before enlightenment of a concealed and hurtful soul.
Truth is elusive and confidence fades when words change, intercepted and allowed to fly without inhibition from wounded heart to wounded heart.
A Tower between us - words convoluted, twisted, warped from mouth to ear.
Understanding impossible without vision or care.
Without understanding we choose carelessly and throw thoughtlessly the words equipped to destroy.

Is this what you had in mind, Becca?

.......Because it's a little scary to me.

Barrels and Cones

If you go anywhere in Augusta right now, you're bound to see orange barrels and cones alongside of whatever roads or thoroughfares you take to get where you're going. The DOT has decided to work on just about every road (including a huge expansion of I-20 that's going to give Augusta its very own spaghetti junction - - - if you aren't familiar with that, I guess it's an Atlanta thing because they have one everybody knows about), traffic lights are being added left and right, lanes are being widened and narrowed, opened and closed on a daily basis, and literally every store I shop in is under renovation. Cones and barrels abound. In the name of progress, we're all required to deal with the aggravation and eyesore that it all creates. Sometimes they even put up a sign: "Pardon our mess while we update our store for you." This, somehow, makes it okay, and having been warned that we are going to find a mess, it's excusable.

I was thinking about it, though, and - as I often do - was able to find a spiritual application for that. Yes, even orange construction barrels can be used for a spiritual lesson.

The cones and barrels are there for what purpose? To let all of us know that the road is under construction - that it's a work in progress. It's not finished, and until it is, there is some degree of danger. Bumps, broken places..... The hideous orange things are there to let us know that it's not done. There's more work to be done before it's as good as it can be.

Here's my thought: we should all be required to walk around with barrels or cones. Not literally, of course, but something along those lines would be nice. I think there was a movie a few years ago where a character said that everyone should be required to wear a sign around their necks, so others they meet will know what they're getting when they meet them. This is what I'm proposing with the cones and barrels idea. We should all have to wear something that reminds the people that we meet that we are not finished. We're a work in progress. There's more work to be done on us - some of us (like me) may require a LOT more work - and until that work is done, there is the danger of bumps and breaks and rough spots. Having seen a cone or barrel, others would remember that what they are about to encounter is not perfect, and that they should not expect perfection.....not yet, anyway. Someday, yes. But not today.

I think, too, that those cones would remind ourselves that we're not quite as put together as we sometimes think we are. If we had to get up every morning and put on a huge orange cone, it would be hard to forget that we're under construction. My cross necklace is like that - when I put it on, it's easier to remember that I'm not finished. I'm a work in progress.

Anyhow, that's my thought. It's just an idea.

What Babysitters Think About

If you use the logic applied several days ago regarding the lawn mower definition, this sounds a little grotesque. If a lawn mower is one who mows lawns, a babysitter would - logically, by definition - be one who sits (on?) babies. Curious as to whether this definition stood up to the test of Dictionary.com, I checked it out.

sit (v) informal. to serve as baby-sitter for: A neighbor can sit the children while you go out.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. I have always been one to seek out things that are wrong with the English language. I love when things don't make sense, and those signs that require people to put up each individual letter separately make me crazy. I was really hoping that the definition for babysitter was going to be illogical, but apparently babysitting is a big enough part of our culture for it to be included in a dictionary definition.

Anyhow, this babysitter was thinking about something in particular to start this whole thing. On the way home from watching the girls the other day, I saw a church sign with one of those little messages. (Are those as popular where y'all are as they are here? They're everywhere here, and although they do require putting the separate letters on, I like them.) In any case, the sign said: "Elements of a Christian life: faith and charity." So, with about 25 more minutes to drive on my way home and having already decided that I wanted silence and not the radio, I started thinking about that. Is that all there is, really, to a Christian life? Is that what is all boils down to?

I looked it up, and "faith" is, as I expected, believing or trusting in something when you have no proof that it is true. Hebrews 11:1 says so. That's a rather simplified definition, I realize, but it really is pretty basic. If you have faith - in anything - you're believing in something that may or may not be true, but you are choosing to trust that it is. With or without proof, you have reason to believe it and live as though it is true. That's faith, and in living a Christian life, you have to believe that what the Bible says is true. You have to have faith that God loves you and sent His son to die for you to reconcile you to Him by forgiving you of your sins. You have to trust that by believing in Jesus and who he is, you are saved and are made right with God. You have to believe that you cannot live without Jesus....and that you don't want to. Whether you come to that belief through years of Sunday school attendance, one random church service one time in your life, or the prompting of the Holy Spirit, you have a personal testimony that makes you believe. That belief is what drives you to live the life you live, and it is what makes you do the things you do. Faith is obviously the first and most essential element of a Christian life. Without it, your life cannot be "a Christian life."

Now. Charity. That's defined as giving to someone or something that's in need....without consideration of what you may or may not receive in return. Charity. That's what Jesus' life was all about - selfless, always giving, always loving, and never thinking of what it might cost or what might come back to him in return. Scripture calls us to follow him and live our lives like he did....which, in its simplest form, is charity.

Granted, our lives are human and infinitely more complicated than two words can describe. The thing is, though, that maybe that should be all it's about. Sin is what complicates things, and sin is what makes it a big mess.....makes faith so hard sometimes, and makes charity so difficult. Faith becomes a science experiment requiring proof, and charity becomes a selfish thing done only for personal credit. A Christian life is not without sin, because regardless of what label we put on ourselves or our lives, we are still human. We'll mess things up and we'll stray from Jesus' footprints, but the thing that distinguishes us, I think, is that driving force of faith and that desire for charitable living. Without those, we're no different from anyone else.

What Lawn Mowers Think About

This summer, since I don't have a job outside the home, I've kinda taken it upon myself to do the yard work. I kind of figure that if Scott is going to go off to work all day, every day to support our little family, the least I can do is to make the house and yard look nice when he gets home. It makes me feel productive, makes the house look nice, and gives me some much-needed exercise and fresh air, so about once a week I go out and tame the yard. That being said, I spent the better part of today outside cutting the grass. All of it. It takes a couple of hours and wears me out, because the yard is thick and not at all shady and just hilly enough to be irritating, but nothing beats the feeling of looking back over the whole yard as I wheel the mower back into the shed and seeing what I have accomplished. So yes....as you might have guessed, the lawn mower in question here is not the big red Craftsman push mower with which I spent my day. The lawn mower here is me, and these are my thoughts. Silly. Machines don't think! =)

I've been thinking a lot about my situation lately. Looking for a job, waiting for the call, and hoping beyond hope that something will come through.... As I mentioned last week, I've been dealing some with the idea that rather than trusting God to fix this, I might just be rationalizing my own laziness. I feel better about that now. I've prayed about it and have come to a sense of peace that at least for now, I'm doing what I should be doing. I've had several people tell me lately - without me even mentioning the troubling thought that I have become a lazybones - that I should wait for something good to come along, because I didn't go to college and work that hard to just be miserable doing menial things for someone else. Scott says he wants me to be happy wherever I am, and he doesn't want me to settle for just anything. I'm okay.

I babysat for our two youngest nieces yesterday morning. Carlie is just a little over a year old, walking now, and is showing so much curiosity about the world. Jesse, her big sister, will be 3 in December and is in the middle of that famous 2 year-old's independent streak. I don't want to call it the "terrible twos," because I don't think it's a terrible thing when you realize what essential life processes they're going through at that point in their development. In any case, Jesse - while adorable and an absolute doll - is definitely exercising her independence and testing the limits of everyone around her. At lunch yesterday, for example, all she wanted were her grapes and apple juice. She showed no interest in any of the other food on her plate and, while her sister devoured everything on her own tray, insisted that she was finished and wanted to get out of her high chair. I persisted, though, telling her that she could only get down once she ate something because I knew she had a doctor's appointment that afternoon and would get hungry in about a minute and a half if all she ate was grapes. In response, I got many persistent cries of, "NO!" and emphatic shakes of her head. Yes, her autonomy was in full swing. I finally relented, though, and freed her from her high-chair bondage when she got creative about what she would do with her food. Her little fingers are just the size of her nostrils, and when she demonstrated this to me I said (sounding like quite the adult), "Fingers out of the nose and food in the mouth, Jesse Claire." I turned back to Carlie for one second and when I looked at Jesse again, she had a humongous piece of turkey hanging from her nose. She apparently listened just enough to what I had said to be able to confuse it completely. In any case, she won her freedom with that little maneuver.

I, always seeking spiritual applications for things that happen around me (I think it's the youth minister and devotional writer that live inside of me) thought today about how I - at 25 years old - am not that different from Jesse. No, I don't hide food in my nose and I don't test the fit of my fingers in various facial orifices, but I do have a streak of independence in me that sometimes can get me into trouble. I think a lot of us are like that. Even if we say we are followers of Christ and pray regularly for guidance from God, I think we often test our human independence and remind everyone of our God-given free will by screaming (even if only internally) "NO!" and not doing the very thing we hear from all directions is the best thing for us. We are stubborn....and of course, when I say "we," I mean me. I want to work, I want a family, I want to be superwife and someday supermom, and I want to do it all perfectly. I want this life I've envisioned for myself, and I cannot fathom that maybe - just maybe - that's not what's best for me. In thinking about this, I was reminded of a testimony given Sunday during open-mic time at church. A lady was talking about how she had been trying to get back to work for a long time but that she kept "running into brick walls," as she put it. Nothing was working out as she thought it should, and she was getting more and more frustrated with her situation until one day it dawned on her that maybe God didn't want her to go back to work. She had prayed and prayed that God would make the job work out for her, but she had never stopped and asked Him if He wanted her to go back to work to begin with. The brick walls were God, and He was trying to show her that working isn't what she needs to be doing right now, but she interpreted it all as a test of her own perseverance.

This rang so true with me, and seemed consistent somehow with Jesse's insistence that turkey wasn't what she needed yesterday (unless it was in her nose). Not to make a dangerous comparison of myself with God, but to make a point, I - like God - knew that what Jesse needed to do was to eat her food, or else she would get extremely hungry at an inopportune time. Jesse, though, was only concerned with her own agenda. All she knew or cared about was that I had interrupted her play time to try to get her to eat, and that if she refused to eat she could get back to her merriment. Similarly, God knows what we need - whether it's food or work or leisure or simply to be taught a lesson - but we make it difficult for Him to take care of us when we insist that we know the better way. I don't think that God doesn't want me to work. He has shown me in many ways that I definitely need something like a job to occupy my time, both for the health of my mind and our checking account, and I know that He wants me to work somewhere. It never occurred to me, though, to actually ASK HIM what He wanted me to do, or to ASK HIM where He wanted me to be. I interpreted feelings and "signs" as I wanted to, and have seen the opposition I have encountered along the way as God's way of teaching me patience and of introducing me to corporate America. It never occurred to me until Sunday when I heard Sherry's testimony that maybe I've been having selective hearing when it came to listening to God, and I never realized the uncanny resemblance I have to a 2 year-old.

I don't know if that makes any sense whatsoever. Maybe I was out in the sun too long today.

Sublime Trust vs Blatant Laziness

What's the difference between trusting God to provide for you and simply being lazy? I ask this for a reason, of course. Here I sit, in the 3rd month of my job search, and I'm wondering which it is that I'm really doing. Am I being lazy and stubborn by not actively pursuing other jobs in other places because I'm so set on working at MCG? Or is the truth that I'm genuinely led to work there and am trusting that God is going to work it out for me? It's hard to say.

If asked, of course I'll tell you that I'm trusting God to make things work out for me. I'll say that in a second, but how true is that? I'm still anxious about it, though it's not keeping me up at night or making me cry every day like it was. I still am dying to know what's going to happen and am plagued by impatience, but I think I'm trusting God to put the pieces in place for me. I think I am.....or am I just convincing myself of that, because it clearly sounds so much better than saying that I've just been lazy by not doing anything?

When I went to that Joyce Meyer conference last March, one thing she stressed was that yes, all things are possible with God, but He's not going to do things for us that we could just as easily do ourselves. He will pick up where we leave off when things become impossible for us, but He's not going to do it all. Is that what I'm doing here? Is there more I should be doing, or is my apparent inactivity evidence of a peace inside that leads me to wait on God? It's so hard to tell, and it's so important to figure out so that I can fix it if I need to. If I need to get up off my couch and do something, I want to do it. I do, because this is a huge thing and I want to open doors for God to do the things that are impossible for me, but I don't want to try to force something and show that in reality, I'm not trusting Him at all. Does that make any sense at all?

Uncertainty

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

My mind is restless tonight. For once, I actually went to bed with Scott, which hasn't happened much since California since I was able to catch up on my sleep quickly while it took him longer because he immediately had to jump back into his work routine. I went to bed, settled in, closed my eyes, and my mind ran rampant. Thoughts of my future and the uncertainty of it all just ran back and forth in my mind, and there was no stopping it. I tried the usual approaches of thinking about calming things and counting backwards and slowing my breathing, but that did nothing. Around and around my mind ran, thinking about things that I hope will someday be true but for now - at least - I can do nothing about. I finally gave in to the wanderings of my mind and got up, fearing that my own restlessness would disrupt Scott's badly-needed night of good sleep.

It's overwhelming, you know? I'm thinking about work - both my seemingly endless quest for work and recent situations that have arisen with Scott's work - and how life somehow centers upon that. There are things I want for our future - namely, to have a family - but I can't rush that on because I know that there are a lot of unsettled and pending issues that have to be tended to before that is really a viable option. Namely, I need a job. That has been hovering over my head like a flimsy travel umbrella during the rainy Sevilla spring - always there and yet never quite doing the trick. It will be resolved, and I trust God to take me where He wants me to be. I do. It's the timing issue I'm having issues with.

There's that, and there are womanly thoughts that run through my head on nights like this. For those reading this who don't want to know too much about me and my personal life, stop reading here. My thoughts run rampant, with no logical order or obedience to the rational part of my being. "Will we want to know the sex of the baby?" "Will we want to tell people if its a boy or a girl, and will we want people to know the name before he or she is born?" "Will I stay home, like I want to, or will I be in such a fantastic job that I'll actually reconsider my dream of staying home and raising my children?" "I like this name......does it go well with 'Bolyard'?" "Scott will be such a wonderful father....I can't wait to see him like that..." Completely illogical because it's nowhere in our near future, and completely terrifying because I always fear that my maternal thoughts will frighten my "not ready for children yet" husband. Yet the thoughts persist, and there's just no stopping them.

I came out here and started up this post with the intention of writing something that would be like a devotional for any of you who are uneasy about your futures, and now that I'm writing I fear that it's just sounding like a journal entry opened to the world. I got up in order to seek solace from God's Word - as He always knows what to say to me to get me to relax and go to sleep - and as such, I'm going to turn to His wisdom to resolve this. At least temporarily.

But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:33-34)

The Lord will reply to them: "I am sending you...enough to satisfy you fully." (Joel 2:19)

I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. (Psalm 27:13-14)

I know God has a plan and He will see it through to its completion. I know that He has planted dreams in my heart and delights in seeing them come true in my life. I know that He has my own wellbeing in mind and will not do anything to harm me. I know all of that.....but it's the things I don't know that keep me up. It's the wondering if/when I'm going to get a job. It's the wondering what will happen if Scott loses his job. It's the worry that we'll never be in a place where we can feel good about adding to our family. It's the fear that something else will keep that from happening. And then there's the fear that I'm losing it completely. There is no reason for this to be keeping me up tonight, yet here I sit, wide awake and feeling no indication of sleepiness.

Morpheus

All right, y'all.

My friend Nathan is a graphic designer and, being gifted in all things computer-related, told Scott and me to give him some pictures of us so he could use one of his nifty programs to see what little Bolyard children might look like. I think it's kind of like the program they use for age progression on missing kids and stuff.

Anyway, we sent him pictures, and he morphed us together.

Now, I'm trying to stall so that you have adequate warning about what's coming. It's weird. I can't get used to it myself, and while it hasn't phased my desire to have children, it does make me scream and laugh every time I look at them. Seeing them this large caused quite a ruckus.

And here they are:

I don't know what to say. I don't know which one is weirder, but Scott actually thinks one of them looks pretty good. I think the weirdest thing is that in looking at them, it's hard to tell which features are from which of us. Very strange.

Wouldn't it be weird if kids really were such perfect hybrids of their parents?