Forgetting Love, Part Deux

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while, and it may get interesting, depending on just how personal I get. But after my last post, where I admitted to being dateless for over 15 years (and this is more than dateless, this is never being asked out, never having any interest shown toward me as a woman), I've been wondering where the responsibility lies in that. As in how much of it is the way I look, how much the way I act, how much just happenstance?

If you spend any time around me, you know I frequently comment on my weight. Typically in a joking manner. For a long time, I used to attribute my apparent unattractiveness to the opposite sex to my looks. (I still do, to some extent.) But I eventually discovered that guys had even MORE reason to be uninterested in moi. As Joy Nash rants, "'That guy would never ask me out; I'm fat.' As if that was the only thing that could possibly be wrong with me! . . . I've got this great, big automatic excuse. I never have to work on any other aspect of my personality. The only thing that anyone could possibly have a problem with is the fact that I'm fat."

OK, so beyond my weight there is: unreliability, neediness, selfishness, laziness . . . the list goes on. (Trust me, I've made it several times.) Beyond lack of being physically attractive, there's a deep, prevailing conviction that I'm not mate material anyway. So this should be a no-brainer, right? It's obvious that being single is the best thing for me. Phew! I'm so glad logic can spare my heart.

Rrrright.

On the flip side of all this is the fear. There are several things that contribute to my weight. Poor diet. Lack of exercise. Yes, that's a given. But there are things you don't know. Did you ever wonder how I started down this path? Do you ever wonder why it's so hard to change when I know what needs to be done? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have reasons I'm afraid of losing weight, afraid of being attractive? Or that maybe I fear I'll lose weight and STILL not be pretty?

Don't get me wrong - I have so many, many reasons to be glad I'm on my way to getting healthy (fourth day working out, baby!). There's just a lot to it. And, again, it's more than being fat. And even more than all my character flaws.

See, I have certain beliefs about relationships that don't seem to be terribly common. While I am a romantic in some ways, I'm actually very pragmatic about "love". I'm cautious. If a guy I didn't know or barely knew flirted with me - I really wouldn't recognize it if he did, so let's be more direct - asked me out, I would be suspiscious. Having spent the last 15+ years observing other people and their relationships, I find that guys who move fast, er, want everything to move fast.

You may be picking up on the fact that I don't believe in love at first sight. Lust, certainly. Attraction, yes. But not love. Love has to be proved in a relationship. End of story.

So, what I'm getting at is this: Not only am I fat, and deeply flawed, I am very much convinced that my Mr. Right does not exist. Because he'd have to A) accept me as I look and act; B) be patient as he's my friend first; C) be consistent in showing interest because I'm clueless and full of doubt; and D) not be into dating.

Oh, ya, I forgot to mention that, didn't I? I think dating is stupid. Terribly, horribly and irrevocably brain-dead stupid. But that's another post. Maybe.

Here's the hope I hold out, beyond losing my physical and emotional baggage, is that I will also lose the desire to be desired. That I'll be content with being single. Because, when I look at the pros and cons, singleness is just as good as coupledness. But logic and heart don't speak the same language, and it's those pesky emotions that trip me up all the time.

Forgetting Love

Thanksgiving was good. Not as "thankful" as my meal on Sunday at the Schiewers', but still nice. One of the hard parts, though, was going to the nursing home to see my step-grandma. She's only been there two weeks, but it's hard for her to remember that. Because she has Alzheimer's.

This is the second time in my life where I've watched someone I care about slowly lose who they are. It's easier this time - I'm not as close to Gramma Anderson as I was to my dad's mom, and I'm not with her everyday, and it's not as physically devastating as cancer - but it's still hard. In the end, she will be just as unrecognizing of her children and grandchildren as Grandma Marcia was.

Watching Gramma Anderson and listening to her talk, I think about strength and frailty. About autonomy and dependence. About how transient our minds and memories are. How transient, in fact, we are. These are not new thoughts - not even for me. But they seem more important right now. Not just fleeting musings, but more pressing.

Gramma Anderson is probably in stage 6 of her disease, one of the latter stages. She's generally in a good mood, but asks every few minutes when she's going home. There's no sense of time. I think this may be helped along by the SSDD-ness of being in a nursing home. There's nothing quite like a regimented schedule in a bland environment to help you lose track of time. Life slides by in a blur.

I am one of those people who see connections everywhere. Usually me to something or someone else. (It always comes back to me, because that's what everything's about. Didn't you know?) If someone criticizes another person, I think of me doing/not doing the same and immediately feel guilty. If someone has a character flaw, almost no matter what it is, I identify with them.

I say this because I see me in larger nursing home, wandering the hallways without direction or sense of time. I spend most of my time living in my head, split between daydream fantasies of doing something amazing, being someone amazing, having something amazing happening to me, or nightmare worries that I'll always be stuck between never enough and forever too much.

The reality in my head - who I dream I am and the monster I know myself to be, constantly feeding each other - has everything and nothing to do with the way I live my life. In fact, it usually keeps me from living. I spend so much time worrying about how I present myself, rejecting vulnerability in favor of a comfortable facade, that I miss so many moments to be in my own life.

The ironic thing about all of this is that I believe we are all meant to lose who we are. Not in the Alzheimer's way, of course, but in the deliberate way of giving up all the ways in which we would prefer to identify ourselves - attractive, witty, talented, successful, loved - in favor of spending who we are to lift up each other. To open ourselves up beyond easy love.

I say the last thing because of what happened last Sunday. Our agape family ate our Thanksgiving meal around a table (that in and of itself is its own beautiful thing), then we went "popcorn-style" around the table and shared what we were thankful for. I didn't know what to expect, since a few people in our group are very private people, but it was amazing. Everyone shared. There were tears. And a lot of love. People stepped out of their comfort zone and made themselves vulnerable. I want to cry just thinking about it. I am so thankful for them and last Sunday.

We visited Gramma Anderson Thursday, then went back again on Friday to take her some things to make her room seem more personal. Mostly photos. Her younger self. Her husband. Her sons. Her grandchild (not me). Her great-grandkids. She recognizes them still, but can't think of names. I wonder what it would be like to see a picture of your husband and not remember his name. Then eventually not remember him at all. To forget you loved and were loved.

I, frankly, will probably never have this problem. Please excuse the bitterness - I struggle with it a lot - but spending the last 15+ years never having a man be interested in you leaves one a little pessimistic about one's chances for the rest of her life. This is what bugs me most about being single - never having the opportunity to not be, the whole "completely undesirable" thing, feeling like my name is a joke. There are only a couple of other aspects that are a bit depressing about singleness. Otherwise, it's not a big deal. I cope.

But not very well, huh? My struggle is this: to go ahead and forget love. Forget being loved. And at the same time pouring my own love out to everyone, regardless of whether they want it or not. (Please tell me it's possible to be so full of love that it doesn't matter if you receive any back. G-d, how I want this!) To move past what I want and do life without wishing I was someone else. To get out of the SSDD-ness of living in my head and stop letting life slide by. No more blur. Every moment matters.

I'm hoping that by writing these things out here I will be released of them. I hope someday we both know an Amanda that is free from the burden of herself. Because then I can carry yours, and truly be your friend. Then I will stop loving myself so much that I'm afraid to love you, too.

Still Alive

At Tana's behest, I am updating my blog, though I should probably do it when in a better mood.

Here are the facts: I am still reading everyday (well, for the most part - I missed both days this weekend), and spending time in prayer every morning and nearly every night. Prayer, though, is not as consistently awesome as it was in the beginning; however, I knew to expect this. The thing is remembering to be sincere without worrying about how I feel. I pray to live Shema and to learn to love G-d for who He is, rather than just for what He does. I want this very much. This is key to all my relationships.

Early on in my "resurgence of faith", I received a big chunk of unexpected blessing in the form of getting to the point in prayer where I thanked G-d for making me me. That hasn't changed, but...

In all honesty, the depression is still there. There is so much that wants to spill out of me, but - and I mean this as no condemnation to my friends - I don't thing anyone is equipped to receive it. I try to think through things; reason and emotion are constantly arguing in me. I wonder - is there a difference between self-examination and self-analysis? Because what I do (constantly berating myself and finding fault) brings despair and depression, but I have a feeling that what G-d calls us to is supposed to bring healing and hope. So... How do they differ? How can I obey G-d and examine my heart without falling prey to the habits of self-analysis I already have?

Part of my problem is I think I already know all the answers to my issues. And none of them are good enough, of course, because none of them are what I want to hear. Why is it that the truth about your pain just makes the pain worse? "Ah, yes, you know, the reason you struggle with issue A is because you're too B. You need to stop being so B." Salt, meet open wound. More burden; more despair. This doesn't seem like the way of a gracious G-d, but why does it sound so much like the truth? It's the brick wall I keep banging my head against.

I was going to ask you if you ever felt handicapped, but there's a more descriptive word for me. Do you, reader, ever feel subhuman? I daydream all the time of doing something amazing; for just a little while making everyone I care about realize I'm more than they thought I was, rather than always feeling like less than everyone else. Even today, being with my friends, I felt... inept, clumsy, dull, afraid. I feel the constant need to prove myself. What a burden - not just on me, but on my relationships. All I want is to make other people happy; instead, I create environments where I only think about myself. I'm so sorry.

Are you sick of this? I am. I apologize if I've brought you down. Um, go blame Tana. Seriously, though, I will leave you with this: No matter how dark things get for me, I still believe G-d is always good. I love Him. I know He loves me. And I know some of you love me, too. No matter how difficult I make it for you. ;)

Alive Again

Do you remember this post from 2007, where I said I was ready to fall in love with Jesus again? Or this post a few months back, where I mentioned I was still waiting for it to happen?

Well, this morning marked the 7th day in a row I've had devotions (prayer and reading the bible) before the start of my day.

That may not seem like a big deal to you, but I want to finish this post with exclamation points. Because this is what I've been praying for... just this day-by-day beautiful, thankful, awe-filled, simple time with G-d.

I keep wanting to analyze how it happened, what made last Sunday morning so different that I simply slid out of bed to my knees and talked with G-d, and followed it up with a few of the beginning chapters of Matthew. I want to break down my experience, looking for the right way I must have prayed or something that triggered the change.

But part of me realizes there's no point to that. That this is something that - for right now - is a wonderful gift from G-d, each day and its moments, and I need to grab ahold of what's in front of me, and cling to the fact that I'm here with him right now. To build a foundation that will not crumble ever again. I don't ever want to miss G-d again like I have for nearly three years.

I'm so excited about what this means, about what Amanda honoring G-d and becoming herself in the image of Christ looks like. I wonder if people will be able to see the difference, if the lightness and freedom I've felt the past few days will show in my face and be heard in my voice.

The heavy burden of worrying about my weight, money, what others think of me, if I'll ever be good enough for this or that, etc.... it's gone. Gone in the sense of carrying it around everywhere. Oh, I still have my moments, but right now the joy of what's going on with me and G-d is overwhelming. I am living Christ's invitation of coming to him with my weariness and worriness and finding rest. I am meditating throughout the day and finding my mind and my heart are being guarded, that the self-discipline needed to banish those negative thoughts is immediately there.

I still have a lot of sin in my life - gluttony, judgement, self-gratification and glory-seeking, amongst others - and I still see obstacles, but I also feel released from condemnation. These things are part of my life (for now), but I know G-d has his priorities for what he wants done in me, for me, through me. The freedom of realizing I'm here to live each moment - nothing more, nothing less - is so incredible.

If you have been praying for me, thank you. Thank you so much. Please continue. It is bearing fruit, and soon I will be, too. But don't forget to also praise G-d. He is so worthy.

My love to all!

Alarmed and Dangerous (Dangerously Lazy)

Aaargh. I hate the fact that I'm inconsistent. It translates into me being unreliable, and I hate to think that I cause my friends and family pause before they ask me to contribute to something.

Take, for instance, this blog. Though I post more regularly to it than any of my friends (listed on the right) do to their blogs, I am - by FAR - the least reliable person in real life than any of them. And, "more regular" or not, I still cannot seem to post everyday for more than a few days.

This is the same issue I have with my far-less-than-daily devotions. I walk with G-d everyday - I just end up walking with blinders on and ear plugs in most days. I deliberately choose the snooze button over pouring into prayer and study. Why? WHY?!!!!!

I use the snooze button everywhere. I wait until the last possible moment to take action, then work feverishly to accomplish something. Procrastination should be my middle name, not Faith.

The problem is either over-committing or not committing at all. Good Lord, I suppose I can be thankful I'm not married. I'd make a horrible wife.

25 Things I Love

Just to mix things up a bit, here's a list of 25 things I love. Oh, and I should also note these are in no particular order. Simply as they come to mind.

1. Jiffy, my bunny. I love his little nudges, feeling his whiskers on the back of my legs, watching him was his face. Too cute!

2. Scrapbook paper. I don't scrapbook, but I use the paper for other crafts. I love the colors and textures and patterns.

3. The smell of books, especially a whole room of them.

4. Getting postcards from friends - bonus when they come in the mail. (Thanks, Tricia & Adam!)

5. Bats swooping low in the summer sky at dusk.

6. My little sister's dimple.

7. A new notebook/journal book, though I never can seem to fill them up!

8. Phyllis McGinley's poetry.

9. Making other people laugh, even if they're groaning at the same time because it really was a corny pun.

10. Finishing a project and knowing I kicked butt on it.

11. Coming up with new ideas for projects.

12. Maps.

13. Home decor magazines that focus on using antiques/used items in a new way. (Still waiting for the next issue of Junk Market Style.)

14. Learning a new computer shortcut that's going to save me a lot of time.

15. Being comfortably quiet with friends. (Yes, I can be quiet for loooong stretches of time.)

16. Finding out something new about my family "heritage".

17. Antiquing, especially when done with a friend or family member.

18. Whimsical things.

19. Traveling.

20. Knowing I will always be friends with certain people. You know who you are.

21. Sharing something I just learned with someone else.

22. Frozen custard.

23. Getting addicted to a new song/album.

24. Finding or making the perfect gift.

25. Knowing something I said/did/wrote/whatever helped someone else.

What Is My Story?

Reaching into the old journal again...

4.8.2007

I've spent more time in my blog lately, or posting to myspace, or emails - that's where most of my writing is going. But I'm thrilled that I'm writing. A lot more. I'm starting to let go of the fear that what I have to say is meaningless, or - worse yet - that I'll pick up a pen and have nothing to write and I'll discover I'm empty.

I feel like I'm on the edge of something. I continually see lines converging together, and their central point is me. That I will soon be at a major crossroads. Or like it's the moment before the coin stops spinning in mid-air, the second before a hand snatches it and slaps it onto the back of the other hand. And no matter if it's heads or tails, there is an important decision about to be revealed.

Right now, I have a lot of dreams but no vision. I listened to a recorded speech online last night, given by Donald Miller, and it was something I very much needed to hear. He talked about story, its elements, how the Bible is one story after another, and how God uses it to relate to us. He also talked about our stories and how they're only interesting when we're doing something.

I need to figure out how to pursue these dreams, how to gain vision. So I can start doing something, so my story becomes worthwhile.

Deep Churchonomy

I'm thinking still of the issue(s) I wrote about in my last post, which have become linked to the book I just finished reading yesterday, Deep Economy, which I also posted about recently. This book has me thinking a lot, and it's no wonder that the two have become connected.

In yesterday's entry, I wrote about the proliferation of programs in the church, questioning if everything a church gets itself into is a move of God. At one point I suggested some of these programs are a result of "a 'fad' which dictates effective churches do this, this and this." The key word here is "effective" and helped me connect this phenomena with the book.

Bill McKibben, Deep Economy's author, repeatedly brings up how the movement towards efficiency in every area of our modern life has been taken to extremes, creating very vulnerable centralized systems for everything from energy to agriculture. This is increasingly jeopardizing us as both a nation and a race, and this endangerment includes our entire planet.

But what I'm getting at here is that this cult of efficiency has sunk deeply into the way we approach everything - even our religion. As a Christian, I have repeatedly heard the message that we cannot substitute faith for systemology. And yet churches everywhere are filled with topical "how-to" sermons to improve every aspect of our lives. The "biblical approach to anger management" or "how would Jesus improve his marriage?" or "10 ways to be a better Christian." Sound far-fetched? Then you haven't been in your local Christian bookstore lately. (How about the New York Times #1 bestseller, Your Best Life Now: 7 Steps to Living at Your Full Potential by Joel Osteen, pastor of a mega-mega-church in Houston. You may be interested to know that the book has spawned a board game, (amusing review here), in case your family wants some inspirational playtime after praying for more stuff in accordance with the book's prosperity theology-based advice.)

What exactly is efficiency anyway? The definition doesn't sound harmful at all:
1. the state or quality of being efficient; competency in performance.
2. accomplishment of or ability to accomplish a job with a minimum expenditure of time and effort.

So where's the problem with adhering to the goal of being as efficient as possible? Well, in the world it's led to things like agribusiness, with one person overseeing thousands of acres, making barely any money, using pesticides, depleting the soil of nutrients, driving costs so low that the market has squeezed out nearly all competition and provided for monopolies, and given birth to the scarily easy risk of terrorist attack to our food supply... just to name a few.

In the church, efficiency leads to focusing more on marketing programs than on evangelism (and as someone who works in a marketing department, I constantly fight the inclination to creatively package whatever message I'm currently involved with), to replacing discipleship with "growth classes," to structuring the church along business models, to maximizing attendee comfort and minimizing the radicalness of Christian theology - watering down messages, removing any intimidating religious symbols, handing out fill-in-the-blank sermon notes.

Lest I begin to sound like an old-timer who wants uncomfortable pews and traditional dress standards back in the church, let me assure you I enjoy sitting at a small table in my jeans on Sunday mornings. My point is that it's difficult enough for most people to learn to follow the Jesus in the Bible without stripping away the real teachings of Christ that are the only way to get them there in the first place.

Remember, part of the definition of efficiency is "to accomplish a job with a minimum expenditure of time and effort." Commendable when you need to make 350 lunches on a Friday night, but even that's only up to a certain point. Consider the fact that Michelle Marks, the Assistant Director of Food For Thought, has continually needed to find new ways to either add more work or "slow down" the process of making lunches to accommodate all the volunteers that show up Friday nights, since the goal of Friday nights is less about production and more about community. If the mantra for Friday nights was "More, Faster" it could definitely be accomplished, but at the expense of people feeling connected to each other and to something bigger than themselves.

Efficiency taken to its end result is creating a giant mob of insulated individuals - who have no identity. Cogs in a machine churning out bland expressions of shallow, uniform faith. We would never consciously choose this for ourselves, but this is the sum of our choices. And the problem is often that we don't make conscious choices - routines, advertising, our own addiction to efficiency and convenience, and the fact that the list of alternatives is usually pretty darn short have us programed to "go with the flow." It's incredibly hard work to make intentional choices that are contrary to the norm. I know this first-hand. But the payoff is real freedom, yet also being part of a meaningful community. Knowing that you matter to the people around you, that the way you live your life is making a positive impact on the world.

Efficiency is great if it leads to excellence and paves the roads that connect us to each other. But it should be used in moderation, as it is only a tool and not a god. I prefer to worship the G-d who knows me and invites me to know Him; the G-d of relationships, not a god of systems and programs.

The Church As a Drain

This is another journal entry from over a year ago...

4.1.2007

I've had another idea for an article. It, too, is a subject I've thought about before, about serving within and outside of the church.

My contention is that churches try to do too much - they, as organizations, place (or have placed on them by their denominations) certain requirements and obligations which need to be met. Yes, this is usually "accountability" at work and oftentimes these obligations are viewed as God-ordained and absolutely necessary, whether seen as a biblical mandate, a denominational requirement for participation, or even a "fad" which dictates effective churches do this, this and this.

So churches, even small ones become sprawling associations of programs. These programs need to be planned, executed, and reviewed constantly. They need to be run by people, and many times by people who step in to fill a gap in a ministry, regardless if they have any passion, talent or even mild interest in it. (I sometimes wonder if spiritual gifts testing is some sort of subversive plot to staff the church with willing work drones.)

Take, for example, The Church of Lame Examples. TCLE has a sandwich ministry, with a mission to provide God-honoring sandwiches to those who are seeking spiritually-infused sandwiches.* Unfortunately, this ministry needs 6 sandwich-makers, but only 4 step up to the plate (no pun intended). At least 2 of them were "convicted" by the pastor or ministry leader about participating. If the ministry is lucky, 1 of the 4 actually has a passion and vision for sandwich-making. The other 3 don't know where to go to serve (hence, serving where they're told), or don't think they're doing enough, or think they're being humble by ignoring a call to do what they really want. All of them, and likely the church, may also be ignoring the fact that, perhaps, the ministry has outlived its usefulness, or - forgive me for writing this - may have never been intended by God to be started in the first place.

Programs grow - both as individual programs and in collective number. People are stretched thin, often serving in 2 or more programs. Volunteers burn out because they're not supposed to be serving anyway, and not only does the church lose effectiveness - and sometimes members, who don't feel inspired or appreciated - but the church also loses opportunities.

Take this issue and grow it to include the entire church, under pressure by its denomination to use certain methods (a.k.a., programs) to "reach out" to the surrounding community and fill seats, fill budgets, fill reports full of positive numbers. I believe that each church is part of the Church Universal, and as such is an extension of each of its members. Meaning that I believe each church calls to certain types of individuals, and the church collectively has a "spiritual gift" above other gifts. All church, like all Christians, are called to tithe, to feed the poor, reach out to the sick and imprisoned, to go forth and make disciples. None are exempt. But just as an individual may excel at organizing and connecting people and resources (administration, I think this is called), the church entire may be great at motivating a whole community to connect and rally around a certain issue.

I wonder now and then if our country, the world, whatever, has too many programs and associations and charities. So many are vying for our attention, our money and time, and so many are worthwhile. But so many overlap, and the Church often doesn't help - it only adds to it all.

I also wonder what would happen if more churches stopped creating programs and instead encouraged their members to go find and participate in programs at other churches, at non-church programs, and even - gasp! - non-Christian ones.

What would happen? It's just possible that...

• the church would become less myopic and internalized;
• the church would become more effective in the programs it's called to do;
• the members would experience growth as they encounter God outside of church;
• more people outside the church would be effected by the gospel.

As a single person, I sometimes hear advice to get involved in a program that interests me or volunteer for something I'm passionate about,* ostensibly so I can put myself in a position to not only grow, but to meet someone with similar interests - to put myself in an environment that has the potential to foster a relationship. If a church wants to changes lives, it has to go outside itself to meet people.

Then the command to love our neighbor as ourselves becomes a greater possibility.

*I'd like to note that the whole sandwich-ministry thing was written before I even heard about Food For Thought, which began in May 2007 while I was out west. In fact, I knew nothing, really, of FFT until a couple months later. I picked sandwich-making to be a little on the ludicrous side and envisioned it less like FFT and more like a lemonade-stand-right-outside-the-church-doors-to-rope-them-in kind of a thing. The funny thing is, as I reread this the other day, I recalled that at the time I had been entertaining the thought of creating a pb&j "tool belt" out of a half-apron and walking around DT Toledo to make sandwiches on the spot for people. I kid you not. However, like many of my ideas, it never came to fruition, and I "discovered" FFT already happening at my own church. :)

A Review of the Fourth

From The Fourth & ...

Yesterday was great - good food, good fun (I'm still a bit surprised that I initiated a volleyball game), but the best thing was family. It's sad that we all live within 3 hours of each other and hardly ever get together. I've heard of families living across the country and seeing each other more often. But maybe they can stand each other for longer periods. Ha. Seriously, I love being with my family, in all the ways we amuse and annoy one another.

I especially love it when we do illegal things together. Dad bought $600 worth of fireworks and Uncle Rob, our own "expert", set them off. There were some really nice ones, ones that freaked out my cousin Brian (oh, wait, that's all of them) and my aunt Kris. People in the neighborhoods all around us were setting theirs off, and we enjoyed the light show for well over an hour. We got a little rowdy - all of us younger ones (excluding Abby, of course) had been drinking (I had all of three Twisters in me) and we were shouting challenges and smack to the other people around us setting off their fireworks, none of whom could hear us. But it was fun.

The highlight of my evening, though, was the old photo album Kris brought up for me to start scanning. It has a lot of pictures of my grandma - Dad's mom - in it, and even a letter from Great-Grandpa Bill - my grandma's stepfather, whom I never met; indeed, I barely remember GG, my grandma's mother - to Great-Grandma Lila/GG (Lila is such a beautiful name!). There were more personal notes in this one, and I feel a kindred spirit to GG who made several of these albums, two of which were destroyed because of the fire. I just hate two things she did: taping the photos to the album pages (though I'm sure she didn't know any better), and writing people's names right on the photo - sometimes even on the people. According to the inscription in the front of the album, a first for any of them I've seen, she even "antiqued" (I believe she was actually referring to the three hand-tinted photos) some of them. I will definitely be scanning and archiving these photos (more memory art projects!) - I may even create a flickr account, since I've used up so much of my Picasa account already.

I've slept in too long today, even allowing for the fact that I drove home through smoke-heavy streets to get home and to bed just before 1 AM to fall asleep to the sounds of firecrackers still going off intermittently. I should mow - the yard needs it desperately, and I'm tired of looking like that house on our street - but I'm feeling icky and still smell of smoke, DEET and sunscreen so I want to go ahead a take my shower. Uncle Rob & Aunt Kris and their youngest daughter Vickie, along with her boyfriend Keven, are still in town. I think I'll get cleaned up, run a couple errands, and get back over to Dad's to visit a little longer.

Happy Independence Day!

I just woke up a few minutes ago, but I'm in a great mood. I had a fantastic dream before I woke up - one of the ones (a very rare one!) where I'm beautiful, and there's some nice guy atrracted to me. Only this dream had 3 guys attracted to me. I was working on some project that a secret, evil group was interested in - whether it was stealing it for themselves or covering up, I don't know. But, unbeknownst to me, there was a government agent (in the form of Ryan Gosling, who is cute in a way, but it's weird because I've not seen a lot of his movies and I'm not really into blonde guys) who was assigned to protect me but he also liked me. Then there was a guy I worked with (sweet and kinda dorky, the personality type I favor) who really liked me, even though I think I remember him being used as a spy for that evil underground group (obviously, this was not the job I currently have). The last guy was more of just a passing glance - I was walking down the stairs in the corporate building, he was walking up, and we turned each other's heads. That guy had the type of looks in which I'm normally interested. Combine his looks with the personality of the guy I worked with - sans the whole pawn of evil plot thing - and you have my dream guy (Blast from the Past, anyone?).

I feel like such a goofy teen writing this out, but I loved the feeling of being desirable. Even though it was obviously just a dream, I can still relish the high from it. Should carry me through the day - and hopefully into my dreams tonight. :)

We Can't Handle the Truth

I'm reading this book now, Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future, by Bill McKibben. Actually, I'm plowing through it, given the fact it's saturated with facts and knowledge that doesn't normally attract me, since I've had it less than a week and I'm nearly through it. Came highly recommended by Pastor Don.

It's fascinating, frightening and hopeful all at the same time, which probably explains why it's so addictive. Ever feel like there's something fundamentally wrong with the way we live - eating, shopping, housing, relationships... McKibben has dug up the roots of our current society to expose where we've gone wrong. Why the religion of continuous, unrelenting (in fact, consistently speeding up) economic growth has derailed us and the planet. Fortunately, McKibben's not focused so much on blame and complaint as he is on providing solutions - experiments that are already working right here in our country. Which is sweet news.

A lot of the book is intuitive common sense. We can (or at least many of us can) see Earth is feeling the effects of our presence; we can see the rich get richer and the poor get poorer; we can (at least when asked at Christmastime) say we know that having more material possessions does not make us happier. But the strength of the book is the linking of all of these (and more) common sense observations, backed with facts, and presented with a call for change that includes examples of change already in progress.

Even though I feel more of my liberal friends would be more open to this book, there is much I wish all my friends and family would read. It basically boils down to community and thinking locally. Feel free to contact me if you want me to rant more!

Notes from a Dork

I recently found my journal from last year and realized how much I missed regularly writing and what it did for me. I want to start up again, but use this blog instead, which means I'll have to be vulnerable. That's fine.

But first I'm going to post a few excerpts from my old journal. I'll skip the banal ones and the freaky ones.

3/24/07

So I'm thinking about writing an article and trying to get it published by The Burnside Writer's Collective, the group Donald Miller started with friends. I want the article to reflect some of the thoughts in my last journal entry* - that there's a large segment of people in the church who've been marginalized, but they have no name.

No one really ever talks about the oddballs. We talk of misfits in reference to children, but it's as if, at some certain but undefined age, that term/classification/feeling/state of being magically melts away. But it doesn't.

Every church has a few people that don't fit anywhere. They're the excessive talkers, the completely withdrawn, the emotionally unbalanced, the paranoid, the angry, the negative, and those who have need of drugs to aid them in coping with everyday life (and I'm not referring to medicine for a physical ailment). They are the ones who dress oddly (but not to be oddly fashionable), who have poor hygiene, who cling, who champion bizarre ideas or dogma. They are either too draining or too embarrassing to be around. We don't know how to love them, because we can't get past our uncomfortableness. Or, if we have tried to love them, they have repeatedly frustrated us and strained our sympathies to the point of giving way. Our ability to identify with them has been outreached, and our sense of responsibility to them has been exhausted.

I am one of them, yet I struggle to love other ones that I meet. And either I learn to love them as I should, or I give up hope that anyone will love me as I need. It is time to learn.

*The journal entry was rather freaky, so I won't scare you with it. Part of it, however, talked about feeling marginalized because I'm socially retarded. "To marginalize someone is 'to relegate or confine to a lower or outer limit or edge, as of social standing.'"

Oh, and by the way, I never did write that article, though I did have some interesting discussion with Pastor Steve in the way of "researching" for it. :)

Hoping Again

It's been over a year since this post, and a lot has happened since then. Not all that I'd hoped, especially the desires as outlined in that post, but things that have moved me and changed me, though the jury is still out on whether or not I've been changed for the better.

The reason I'm writing now is... I just had one of those eye-opening moments, where my eyes actually did get bigger. It was an instantaneous God-download of insight for myself right on the heels of a prayer. And I mean feel-the-humid-breath-of-the-hound-of-heaven-on-the-back-of-your-calves "on the heels".

But I have to rewind to Thursday night, when I started a short but intensive 3-day Biblical Rescue Class, led by Dan Rogers, President and CEO of Cherry Street Mission Ministries. I learned there are two kinds of care, therapeutic (long-term) and surgical (emergency). This class focused on surgical, and took a lot of conventional wisdom regarding dealing with people's "issues" and turned it on its ear. I was blown away by a lot of it and how it just made complete sense (and sense of why so many other things have NOT worked for me).

It came as no surprise to me that I am in need of rescue. I have been aware of my immaturity and "issues" for a very, very long time. (In fact, I knew going into the class I was going more for myself at this point than for any other person.) But 90% of all the self-analysis I have done in an attempt to "fix" myself has been the surgical equivalent of a first-year med student performing complicated bypass surgery on a real patient. Not very productive. I flatline myself quite frequently.

The class was awesome, and I found myself at lunch today flipping through all my notes (there were a LOT), paying particular attention to the Six Principles of Rescue. The Fifth Principle is "A person in need of Rescue will not know they are living crooked unless the Rescuer is living a straight line next to them" - or something VERY similar. And in my notes next to this is the Straight Line for Rescuers - a 4-part guideline for maintaining "straightness".

The first guideline is Search Me (Ps. 139:23). And I stopped right there. I start to pray for God to search me. Right away, I get that eyes-widening experience.

I feel like I have a hundred cuts all over me, all of them raw and bleeding. I can see them all. I'm aware of every single one. The accumulated pain is overwhelming, and so is the desire to see all of them "fixed" at once. I'm pleading for God to heal me, over and over and over and over again. I get tired of the sound of my voice crying out to God. Weeping. Angry. Despairing. Badgering. I use bandages, but they get soaked through and fall off. I show one or two cuts here and there to different people, but no one is equipped to fix me, and I'm afraid to show anyone all of them. I've gotten to the point where I think even God has gotten disgusted with me, my cuts, and my pathetic attempts to take care of them, but I continue to plead for His help. I'm still overwhelmed and fatigued with searching myself - seeing every cut, continuously finding new ones.

This is where I am right now in my life. Where I have been for quite some time. This is what opened my eyes a little wider this afternoon: God told me that I was finally on my way because I asked HIM to search me. He is relieving me of the burden of searching myself. He reminded me that only He can fix the cuts, only He can determine which ones are the most serious, only He knows in what order the healing process takes place.

I think, though, I still need to go through a Rescue. And I'm considering allowing it to be galleried, though I keep getting the image of a bunch of people sitting behind a one-way mirror watching me - like a movie scene where people are viewing an execution. So, pray for me. I'm hopeful again.

Hi, My Name Is... American Typewriter.

Is it me? You decide!

One Statement/Response

So, I recently had a friend ask me what I meant when I described myself as an "open-minded Christian". He brought up some of the hot-button issues that usually divide people - abortion, homosexuality, etc. - plus some other typical denominational issues - female church leadership, baptism, etc. - in a sincere request to hear my opinions.

Dangit. Somebody's trying to pin me down.

Well, I'm not about to start laying out exactly what I think about everything, precisely because there is no "exact" for me, especially in regards to those hot-button issues. But there is one thing I know/believe: being gay and being a Christian are not mutually exclusive.

Not only do I personally know gay (and happy!) Christians, I have had the good fortune to run across some extremely talented and dedicated ones online. This young man has my deepest respect - not only from an artist's perspective, but from one Christian struggling to walk in obedience to another.

Here are some of my favorite works of his:
Lucky Late Bloomer (poetry)
but who sees? (photography)
unworthy, unfaithful, but not unaware (a prayer) (poetry - six words only)
Man to Messiah (a duet) (poetry)
winterwarmth (photography)
Local Heroes (photography)

Gee, sounds like a guy with an honest, sincere faith...

Beauty & the Beast

I've been wondering lately how different life would have been if I'd ever been thin or acceptably average when I was young. (Not that I consider myself old now, but more "youngish" than "young".)

Don't worry - this isn't going to be some depressed rant. I'm just working through the dynamics of what it means to be beautiful. Having never been so in the typical, socially-approved sense, I see beautiful people as almost alien. The concept of being desirable is quite foreign to me.

I have moments, sometimes days, when I feel somewhat physically attractive. And, though I'm heavier than I've ever been in my life and my teenage acne has never bothered to clear up and my hair is *gasp* getting a little thinner, I actually feel less self-conscious about myself and more confident than I've ever been in my life. So I'm not whining - just wondering.

Beauty in the strict sense of mating is understandable: Finding someone that can draw you in with just their appearance is not limited to our species. But it's all the worth as a being based on physicality that our species adds into it that confounds me.

I was watching Pride & Prejudice the other day with my aunt, and there was a short documentary on Jane Austen in the DVD's bonus materials. The entire documentary was plain and simple - until the interview clips with Keira Knightley. Here is this beautiful, talented young woman talking about being in an Austen film . . . and it was so ridiculously obvious they had touched up her face. Why? It's a freakin' documentary!

That frustrates me to no end. She was the only person in the entire documentary to whom that editing was done. So... here's the message that sends to me, who has so many obvious faults to begin with: Even Keira isn't good enough.

Now, I can deal with this because I find it more irritating and laughable than I do depressing. And I realize I'm a graphics geek and more likely to notice this kind of thing. But... but what about my little sister (whom I think is utterly adorable just the way she is) who's 13 and in the midst of all that self-esteem angst (or will be eventually)? Or even someone as old as I am, in a similar situation, but who's yet to get the "whatever" point to which I've come?

I'm not looking for answers, and I don't expect society to change. But it is simultaneously exasperating and freeing to realize someone like me can't even get into the game, let alone play it. I get to take notes from the sidelines and walk away (usually alone, but at least without any pretences) when I get tired of it all.

OK, enough of that seriousness. I found this post extremely amusing: Rethinking the Number of the Beast.

Addiction

I've found a new addiction: http://www.redbubble.com/. Cool art, tees, and writing. I entered a competition that ended this weekend (so keep your fingers crossed!), but I won't know anything until the beginning of February.

Check it out - there's some really talented people on there. I've been uploading some of my stuff, including some new pieces. My handle on there is moorefaith, in case you want to pay me a visit. Even if you don't, enjoy the site!