Everlasting Spendors

When "Photoshopping" Doesn't Work

2009-07-24T12:16:00.004-04:00

When it's time for company pictures to be taken, I get hailed as a rock star, especially by the ladies. Not because I'm a great photographer, but because I'm skilled enough with Photoshop's healing brush tool and liquify filter to take off the decades and the extra pounds.

Most of the time, I enjoy removing the little blemishes and thinning faces and necks to get rid of the flattened, chubby look my inept picture-taking has added. My goal is less to change the way they look and more to ensure the photo captures who they really are - to let the subject's personality come through a bit more. Doesn't hurt that it makes them happier with their picture.

Today, however, I took a photo I didn't really want to retouch. I cropped it down and adjusted the lighting - no problem. I wish I could leave it at that. Not because the subject was perfect, or even very photogenic, but because her face was creased and cracked with hundreds of fine lines. Her skin was the opposite of the smooth, youthful look I usually have no problem helping along with a brush stroke here and there. So opposite, in fact, it seemed wrong to erase the character all those little wrinkles added. It felt like I was stealing her life.

Yet this is what people want - to be altered towards perfection, however unreal and lifeless it may make them. Though I often wish I could make a voodoo version of Photoshop and liquify my many extra pounds away in real life with a few simple movements of the mouse, there's a story behind my obesity, just as there will be a story behind that final, successful effort when I change my lifestyle and lose the weight. Just like today's photo subject has a story behind her lined face that deserves to be told.

There's a thread of theology in the faith I've practiced all my life which seems to discredit flaws and celebrate perfection, which focuses much energy on someday being "transformed" into what G-d always intended us to be. I'm not calling this wrong, but neither do I think it's right. I think G-d has always intended us to celebrate life as we find it - perfection and imperfection alike. Mourn tragedy, yes. But when it comes to people, remember all are made in his image. Even the fat, the old, the infirm, and the dirty.

Today I found G-d in some wrinkles. Where have you found G-d lately?

Gone Publishin'

2009-07-23T14:43:00.002-04:00

No, I'm not dead. Just really busy. I have been blogging, but in relation to a project. If you haven't talked to me lately, here's what I'm working on.

I'm doing OK, still employed, still sharing ownership of a house in Toledo with my aunt, still trying to figure out how to grow up.

My best to all. I'll try to post something more signficant soon.

Small Reminder

2009-04-30T11:47:00.000-04:00

Flipped quickly through a notebook and found some thoughts scribbled there once upon a time:

"When you control your behavior despite how you feel, you are learning to also control your feelings."

May not always be true, but I am finding it mostly true when paired with choosing to be positive/cheerful. Like this past week, I've felt really weird here at work, as if this is somehow "the end". But have pointedly tried to not be mopey or anxious. I can't think of any reason why, but if I'm up for the chopping block, can't see there's much I can do about it.

I'm Not Worthy

2009-03-27T12:05:00.009-04:00

All my life, I have been dogged with the idea of discipline and my lack thereof. Holiness. Righteousness. Obedience. These are all good things. But the ideas of them have sat in judgement of me. I have felt so condemned for so long.

They echo a theme in my life. I am not good enough. I have to try harder. If I only loved God more, than I would obey him more.

Where is the freedom to be? To let go? Why do we always feel it necessary to remind ourselves and each other of why God is merciful? To "temper" his compassion with the reason for it - that we are not worthy. It is for our sakes that God has loved us. Or is it?

I, yes I, am the one who blots out your offenses for my own sake;
I will not remember your sins.
- Isaiah 43:25, emphasis mine

I mentioned a couple of posts ago the meaning of my name, Amanda - beloved, worthy to be loved, lovable - and that I have thought it a cruel joke for a long time. (I will spare you the reiteration of why.) The truth is I have been waiting for some official validation, someone to disclose my redeeming quality that would justify my existence. I could point to it or name it and immediately self-confidence would flow through me and the person I was proving myself to would then acknowledge my worthiness. Maybe even be in jealous awe.

But what if I lost my redeeming quality? Or what if it got tarnished or fell out of fashion? What if I met someone who had the same one - but better? Or someone who just didn't like it?

I have, by the way, lived this out so many times. I make these laundry lists of why people might like me and I invariably cannot measure up in the end. Or the part of me that I tried to make the whole basis of my worth was rejected. The tailspin from that is uncontrollable.

And I am tired of cataloguing everything. My faults. My sins. Reasons why my friends might love me.

"By loving me you have made me lovable."
- St. Augustine

I have wanted that to be true from so many sources - parents, friends, colleagues, crushes - and have repeatedly rejected the one constant, unconditional, immovable, and proven source.

All I have to know is that God loves me. I don't have to know why. I cannot know why. Because God is love, and who can fully wrap their minds around God?

God does not love me for my potential. God does not love the me I want to be. Or think I should be.

God LOVES me as I am now.

God loves ME as I am now.

God loves me as I am NOW.

Jesus is my redeeming quality. Jesus living in me, through me.

I've balked so long the idea of "finding my identity in Christ". It sounds so . . . Borgish. Like I'm to be a Jesus clone with no personality and no desires/dreams of my own. But...

Do I really believe Jesus was bland and boring?
Do I really believe the God that made me me at this time, in this place, with my experiences and personality would then turn around and not use this material, raw as it is?

The freedom of Jesus being my redeeming quality (and all my other awesomeness being icing on the cake) - it's 180 degrees from what I've thought mattered for so long. The pressure of trying to be someone else and the pressure of making myself appear worthy - God or no God, for those of you who think I've gone off the Jesus deep end - is blessedly lessening.

In this, too, I am coming to realize that I may always care what other people think of me, much as I would love to drop that immediately. But I am learning to not care as much. And also learning the joy of that old Sunday School song - "O, how I love Jesus because he first loved me."

Oh, It's a Beautiful Morning...

2009-03-23T07:30:00.000-04:00

Doing pretty good, if you couldn't tell from the title.

Friday night saw me taking the little sis to FFT and then over to the Tent City volunteer dinner thing. A little too much too soon - I started to feel overwhelmed and struggled with slipping back into the destructive thinking patterns that chase me out of being in community even while in the middle of it. It was, however, very nice to see a bunch of folks, collect on some hugs, and - though awkward - try to explain to those who don't read this fabulous blog what's been going on with me.

Saturday was a wash. I felt blah and lazy, and absolutely nothing productive happened, beyond me getting my head back on straight by the end of the day.

Sunday was interesting. Hitched a ride with my dad to go see my uncle in Ashland who has cancer. While in the car, he emails Dad and begs off of the visit - he was having a really bad day. So we ended up going to my step-grandparents and hanging out for the rest of the morning and the afternoon. Another awkward situation, as I haven't been there in about 15 years. Got back around 4, and fought to stay awake until 8.

So, that's the recap of the weekend. In more interesting news, I've designed a desktop wallpaper that I'll be submitting to Smashing Magazine this week. I'll link to it if they end up using it. I don't suppose it will bring me any business or recognition beyond me being able to say my work has been featured in Smashing Magazine. But that's still a cool thing. Like being published in Love & Heartbreak (with 499 other six-word memoirists), it's not big - but it's a step.

Debating the prudence of going to read some of my "work" on Thursday night. Want to support The Sheeve in his new endeavor as a Slam Master, but I'm not too sure that standing up in front of a bunch of strangers and sharing my heart would be wise right now. In related news, those of you checking into POLW may be happy to know I'll soon having something new to post. :)

Loving the new way to list my friend's blogs and being able to have an automatically updated menu for me to check out as soon as I look at the list on my own blog. For those of you who have not posted in the last month - get writing. And for those of you who haven't posted in over 5 months (Pastor Steve!) - shame on you! I do hope that you all check out each other's stuff. I don't list just anyone on my blog, ya know. That's reserved for special people.

That's all for now. Feeling really out of it, but I know that's my fault. And am fortunately learning to separate how I think and feel about reality from reality itself. WYFINAWIR!

Stalled

2009-03-18T12:32:00.004-04:00

I'm at the place right now where I'm in a good mood, missing my friends and activities, having ideas for several different things, and yet knowing I'm not finished with pursuing solitude. I've been struggling with where to start in finding out what healthy love is for me. I want it to be a scriptural, prayerful journey. Not an assimilation of someone else's ideas and theology, or my own concoction based on some random thoughts and warm fuzzies. Because I want a solid foundation to build on, something that's going to last when I go "back" to my life.

In other news, I found a brochure I designed for a women's retreat I was going to lead back in '06. The retreat never happened, but the pull to still do it is there. Hmmm...

beLOVED

2009-03-12T20:16:00.004-04:00

I should probably save this for tomorrow - who knows if I'll have anything to post then? But it is on my heart now, so here we go...

Last night I had a dream about my community. Amongst the various oddities (like Steven Spielberg coming to do a documentary about Food For Thought, and hearing Don give a message with sound effects), there was something that struck a chord with me, since it has been on my mind quite a lot.

In the dream, Don stands up and starts to talk to a room full of white suburbanites, and the message is one of those fluffy things that are supposed to be in-your-face. That sentence alone (plus my comment above about sound effects, and the next detail I'm going to give) should tell you this was not an accurate representation of Don. Amid the dream-Don's talk, where he kept intentionally repeating words - "gift-gift", "thank-thank", "neighbor-neighbor" (Mr. Rogers with a goatee and a speech impediment?) - was the implication that we don't do enough to show we care about each other. We don't go out of our way to love each other and show gratitude.

"When was the last time you took a few minutes and wrote out a note to thank-thank someone for what they've done for you?"

Not a message about thank-you notes for gifts or hospitality but one about randomly but purposefully carving out time to show gratitude.

I don't know if the real Don (please stand up) would ever give a message like this, but in my dream I stood up and confronted Don. Then I walked out.

Why? Well, here's where I first want to draw the line between acknowledging one of my "issues" and telling you this is not me asking for anything. OK?

Alright... so, I have this thing inside me that constantly hungers for approval. I horde the notes I get from people that feed this hunger. In my nightstand, in fact, is a little card my friend Emily wrote me a couple of years ago. I get it out and read it every now and then. I know I am not alone in this. (This being other people hording notes, not specifically notes from Emily. That would be kinda weird.)

Because this is how I love to be loved, I have tried now and then to send messages of my own (via snail mail, preferrably, but through all kinds of ways) to encourage, appreciate and connect. You know - the whole "do unto others" thing. I try hard, as well, to gift people with something meaningful.

Please understand I'm not trying to toot my own horn. I'm neither consistent nor perfect in this gratitude thing. My point is that - again, I am NOT asking for anything - that I rarely see others do the same. We give love the way we prefer to be loved, right? Hmmm... not always. Sometimes, we take the easy way out. Because the way we prefer to be loved seems a little high-maintenance at the moment. Or awkward. Or random. Or . . . whatever.

Do you know what the name Amanda means? It's Latin for "worthy of love", "beloved", "she who must be loved". It's... been a struggle for many years not to see my name as a joke. (Beyond the Amanda Huggenkiss, Amanda-Panda, and Amanda has Faith in Moore jokes.) Because, for right or wrong, I have not felt loved. What's more, I have not felt worthy of love.

In my journey now to get a right understanding of what love really is and to completely remove worth out of the equation, I would rather use my name to do something and focus on others. Rather than be constantly focused on me and my love-lorn state.

So here's an idea. Pick someone in your life. Take few minutes and write them a note. Doesn't have to be flowery or eloquent or novel-length, just genuine. Send it to them. Maybe you sign it, maybe you don't. Maybe you use notebook paper, maybe you use fancy stationery, maybe you send it in a card with a picture of Obama in a tutu on the front. Whatever. The important thing is you did it, expecting nothing in return.

I think . . . if I would be beloved, it would be because I can be loving without wanting anything in return.

Back in the Saddle

2009-03-12T15:57:00.002-04:00

OK, that is a very uncomfortable phrase right now. Even being "back in the office chair" is not fun. But still better than yesterday, even if I was home all day. I cannot go through more than one day sitting in front of the TV. It just feels so... wrong. What a waste of time.

Before this turns into a blog about me complaining about how I feel or all the trivial miscellany of my life . . . my copy of Etz Hayim came today! Yay! I now have an authentic Jewish commentary to help me study. I also received BNL's Snacktime! CD, which promises to be all kinds of childish fun, and another book... a gift. And I'm going to have a hard time waiting nearly a month to give it.

But back to Etz Hayim. I am a long way from being a serious student of the Torah; indeed, I have much to learn about how to study, not to mention the lifelong process of studying Torah itself. Past the excitement over getting the commentary is the weight of what the undertaking of studying means, the hope of how it will help Torah change me, and the coming joy I will have to share with some of my friends who are also on their own journeys through the Jewish roots of our faith.

Perhaps... in learning to love Torah I can learn to love myself and others. Very sweet stuff.

Oh, and... check this out!

Quickie

2009-03-11T11:52:00.003-04:00

Won't be a long post. Finding it very uncomfortable to sit in my office chair.

Surgery went well, I guess. I have a follow-up with the doc in about a month. Had a hard time with the anaesthesia - nausea, etc. - and took today off of work. Too groggy to drive, too uncomfortable to sit for any decent length of time, can't lift over 10 pounds. My throat is sore, too, from the tube they put down it. Ug. Didn't know to expect that at all. Guess it's better I didn't.

I'm missing everyone terribly right now, but part of that is just being cooped up and bored. I'm so done with sleeping right now, but I'm not interested in anything else. I suppose I should write my penpals back since I've got the extra time, but I'm so restless.

Hoping to be back to normal VERY soon.

P.S. I Love Crying

2009-03-09T07:48:00.008-04:00

Surgery for tomorrow was moved to 11:30, so I have to be in there at 9:30. This necessitates me taking a full day of vacation for it, which I find very irritating, considering I specifically asked for an afternoon procedure so I wouldn't have to use a vacation day.

A little nervous about it, but it's a simple thing and is just an outpatient surgery, so I'm sure I'll be fine. I think I'm more worried about how I'll feel afterwards - sensitivity and all that. But this is necessary, and I hope it provides some answers and also gives some relief in the future.

In the emotional arena, I watched P.S. I Love You last night and cried as usual. Nice to note this was the first time I spent more of the time watching it and crying over the story for the sake of the story and less time crying over the story because of my own issues.

I did, however, find myself finding quite a lot of similarities between Swank's character and myself - at least her emotional ride through the film. The odd thing is, she was grieving the death of her husband. But what am I grieving over?

Ladies, enjoy the pic of Gerard. I know I do. :o)

What is Love?

2009-03-08T16:28:00.004-04:00

OK, before you starting bobbing your head like a Butabi brother at the Roxbury, let me dig into what's going on in my head... (don't worry, it's not that deep!)

The last few days have been interesting. This self-imposed withdrawal from my usual activities (and the less usual ones that frequently pop up) has left me with a lot more quiet in which to think over things. And while I've still had some woe-is-me moments, my angst over - oh, heck, over nearly everything - has slackened dramatically.

I guess I could liken it to a fast. For me, when fasting food, the gnawing of hunger reminds me to pray, be more mindful of God, be thankful for many things (not the least of which is the blessing of being able to eat whenever I am hungry). In this solitude I am starting to pursue (I say starting because I've yet to be very purposeful with my time), whenever I think of communicating in my usual way - emails, calls, facebook updates - the reminder of my current status that immediately follows serves to help me think more about what I am doing and why it's needed.

I won't go over everything I've been thinking (quite frankly, I can't remember it all), but two things seem very important now. One is a goal, the other a question I need to answer - both very worth pursuing.

My goal: that 2009 be my personal Year of Jubilee. There are many things in my life I want "fixed", but of all the things I desire for myself, freedom is the most important. I want to either throw off the shackles of unworthiness, fear, despair, bitterness... or be significantly closer to having filed through them. I think a key (no pun intended) line of thought for this is . . .

My question: what is love? I don't think I know what it is, what it looks like, how to show it/receive it in a healthy way. I'm not sure yet how to find my answer, but I have the benefit of knowing God is the source. I realize answering this question is a life-long pursuit - I guess you could say I am also answering the question, "Who is God?" - yet I think there is a sort of line that needs crossed between total confusion (where I am now) and operational clarity (where I can be with the people I care about and be focused on them).

As always, if you have anything you want to share with me, have at it. It's most welcome.

Poured Out Like Water

2009-03-08T13:18:00.005-04:00

I know the title is a little long, but I've started another blog to complement this one.

Everlasting Splendors is not going away, but it has been a sort of grab bag of posts regarding thoughts, feelings and random things. It's a journal of sorts, but not terribly focused (beyond being focused on me).

Poured Out Like Water will be very simple. Personal psalms and prayers, plus any praises or counted blessings. If I stumble on something particularly poignant to me in my journey, I will post it. Otherwise, POLW is meant soley as a chronicle of my interaction with God. I invite you into that interaction - comments and feedback are always welcome - but my purpose not about getting attention as much as hoping to connect. Myself with God, myself with you, and - if at all possible - you with God.

Moving from Loneliness to Solitude

2009-03-05T15:30:00.002-05:00

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

- May Sarton

Do not allow yourself to be imprisoned by any affection. Keep your solitude. The day, if it ever comes, when you are given true affection there will be no opposition between interior solitude and friendship, quite the reverse. It is even by this infallible sign that you will recognize it.

- Simone Weil

It is in deep solitude that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love my brothers. The more solitary I am the more affection I have for them…. Solitude and silence teach me to love my brothers for what they are, not for what they say.

- Thomas Merton

Solitude is something you choose. Loneliness is imposed on you by others . . . . We all need periods of solitude, although temperamentally we probably differ in the amount of solitude we need. Some solitude is essential; It gives us time to explore and know ourselves. It is the necessary counterpoint to intimacy, what allows us to have a self worthy of sharing. Solitude gives us a chance to regain perspective. It renews us for the challenges of life.

- Hara Estroff Marano, Psychology Today

Not much to say right now. At first, I dreaded my decision to withdraw and worried about being disconnected. Certainly not being able to check my phone and find a couple of text messages through facebook feels weird. There was a sort of digital silence that descended immediately when I deactivated my fb account. Now that I've adjusted back to pre-fb life, however, I find it more welcome than I expected.

My announcement - made only on here and to those individuals I already had plans with - has met with some consternation and a lot of doubt on the wisdom of my actions. As over 24 hours have progressed in my choice, though, I have moved from a vague urging that this is the right thing to do right now to a more concrete purpose. In thinking it over on my drive to work today, I concluded the best term for my action is "embracing solitude".

I can't afford to take a retreat right now, and I don't have the luxury of locking myself in a room somewhere, so this is my next best solution. There is the temptation to squander the extra time I'll have, both in business and laziness, and also the impulse to try to fix everything at once. My first priority, though, is to pray. And then to study. Whatever that leads to is fine. I'd like to hope it will provide some direction or, at the least, some new foundational understanding of myself. But que sera, sera - and that will be good enough. Perhaps even great.

One Step

2009-03-04T15:47:00.002-05:00

I'm afraid I've alarmed some good friends recently with my behavior. Not to say that it was an unfounded fear - I've had some pretty dark moments in the last couple of months - but I do feel bad that I've caused so much concern.

I keep coming back around to the same things, but every spiral that moves towards happiness then arcs back around to despair gets smaller and I sink lower. In thinking over my "issues", my felt needs and my behavior, I came to the conclusion last night that the most healthy thing for me to do is to purposefully withdraw. I use the word purposefully here because one of my trademark moves when wrestling my moods is to step back; however, it is more reactionary than "proactionary". So I am resigning from serving on the board (and in general) for Food For Thought, temporarily dropping out of church (not that I was there much anyway) and agape meal, and stepping back for a while on my "hanging out" activities. (Hmmm... may be able to save some money now, too...) I've also deactivated my facebook account.

Conventional wisdom would say withdrawing is an unhealthy choice, but I think conventional is out the window right now. I know my friends love me. I know, to some extent, I serve a kind of purpose in my roles and relationships. I know most people will not understand my choice and some will feel I am rejecting them, which I do regret. But part of this is stopping my habit of doing what I think others feel I should do, and do what I think is right. So, I'm truly sorry if you're upset with me, but I believe I'm doing both of us a favor.

The most painful thing about temporarily withdrawing from my relationships is not knowing what's going on in others' lives (not being plugged in via facebook has already frustrated me). Hard to be there for people when they need you if you don't know they need you. But then, nobody really needs me. There is nothing I can say or do that someone else can't say or do as well - or better. The vast majority of my friends are friends with each other and, being that they're all amazing people, they will take care of each other well. That gives me some peace.

I will start counseling soon. The person comes highly recommended. I wish I could say I was looking forward to what this means - that I am pleasantly anticipating getting better - but I am honestly dreading the process. I cannot, in good conscience, "do away with myself"; therefore, this is what I must do to cease being the basket case I am fast becoming and move towards being a mentally healthy, mature, reliable, and - hoping against hope here - godly woman. And to learn to love without attaching strings. Yes, especially that last one: cease being a puppet of my own feelings and trying to make others puppets to my moods as well. God, I know how it feels to be subject to another person's moods - didn't I exist for 11 years being the target of someone else's temper tantrums?

Hence me taking a "relational hiatus" right now: I realize I have become (or am becoming - it would be nice to think I'm not that far gone yet) the type of person who manipulates others with her emotions. I sincerely want to cease my attempts to skew every relationship, every situation, every conversation, every moment in my direction. I know I am not the center of the universe: now I will learn to behave in that knowledge.

At some point, perhaps sooner than even I expect, that may mean entering back into the community I have called mine (and have tried too hard to make into my own idea of community based on what I want and need) for the last three+ years and trying my hand at serving the people I love very much. But right now there needs to be some break between where I've been and where I want to go. I cannot think of any other way to turn myself around than to remove my addiction to getting attention from other people.

Book Exchange

2009-02-12T15:59:00.002-05:00

I had a lovely dinner with Mitch & Sue Magdich last night, enjoyed Sue's homemade-from-scratch cheescake and their company. It was good to reconnect with them. I see the Magdiches on a regular basis but still was missing them. Know what I mean?

The subject of reading eventually came up in our conversation, which was interesting because it's just been in the past few days that I've been starving for something new to read. What used to be a regular diet of thoughtful books - new finds and old favorites - has become something of a rarity for me. My family can attest to the hundreds of books I used to have... on shelves, on tables, on nightstands, on my bedroom floor, in my car, my purse, visiting the homes of friends. "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'"

My collection now is small and meager, sad to say. However, I will be updating my library on Facebook (and on librarything.com), and here is why I've tagged you/emailed you this post: You, my friend, are welcome to any book I have listed (except for my Bible - I kinda need that).

The desire is to remember what I learned from the fire: though I cherish books (and other possessions), I am not rich until I can freely give of what I love. What I have is yours to borrow for the asking.

This, of course, is a coin with another side. I'm hoping some of you will open your own libraries up to me so I may borrow one book a month from any given person and thereby enrich myself.

I have "borrowed" a book from someone for nearly a year now. I will finish it up by the end of February and get started on another come March. I figure a month is a reasonable time to borrow most any book.

In the end, I hope this also leads to great conversations as I compare notes and share thoughts over a book with my friends.

Let me know if you're interested in mingling libraries!

Best Laid Plans

2009-02-09T20:55:00.004-05:00

This is from my journal, an entry almost two years old (April 10, 2007), but I have slowly been adding other thoughts to it - the page is crazy with scribbles in all directions in the margins - and I think now is as good a time as any to pull it all together into a blog post. The timing is rather relevant to a discussion I had a couple weeks ago with Bre in which we touched on God's plans for us and purpose, and our Torah Portions group has talked about it before.

So, without further ado (because for what in the world do any of us need more ado?)...

I don't care it it means my tastes are common: I love C.S. Lewis. The Chronicles will always have a special place in my heart.

One of the ideas that has stuck with me from the Chronicles is that we are not to know what might have been if we'd chosen a different path. And with Don Miller's speech regarding story very much in my thoughts, here is what is going on between my ears...

For a long time, I have lived with the impression (how or when I received it, or from whom, I don't know) that God made me for one shining purpose, and I had to seek out His will for my life so I could fulfill it. This quest sounds noble and romantic, but it's incomplete. Worse yet, it's deceptive. Not in the sense that the idea of living to glorify God is wrong, but in the sense there is one specific path to take.

I have wasted a lot of time thinking my quest was an absolute, and living in fear of making wrong or selfish choices based on what I wanted. I also need to get over the fear that I've already made the wrong choices and I'm doomed to a life of mediocrity because I screwed up God's plot.

The truth is that choices shape plot, taking it in different directions and writing the story forward. Even not choosing is a choice, but it leads to a stalled story. I'm all for the "be still and know that I am God" part of faith - waiting and trusting is important - but there's a big difference between being still and being stagnant. Stagnancy breeds the potential for illness - standing water becomes foul.

Ever since I became aware of mikvahs and their significance (and how interesting it is that mikvah is also a word for hope?), the idea of moving water meaning living water has intrigued me.

The existence of a mikvah is considered so important in Orthodox Judaism, that an Orthodox community is required to construct a mikvah before building a synagogue, and must go to the extreme of selling Torah scrolls or even a synagogue if necessary, to provide funding for the construction.
-- Berlin, Meshib Dabar, 2:45

While I would love to delve more just into the importance of the mikvah, I will just leave it at this - how beautiful the thought of being a mikvah.

Back to story, choices, and plans... Part of the problem is we quote Jeremiah 29:11 too often - as a comfort, an excuse, a brain-washing mantra, etc. Beyond the issue of taking the verse out of its context, there is the automatic assumption of God's plan being specific (and for this side of the veil). But all of the intentions listed are vaguely benevolent, what you would expect a loving God to say to anyone.

While I'll never know what might have been if I'd been bolder and more ambitious earlier on in my life, I am still faced with choices that will either propel me toward following the desires of my heart or continue to hold me back.

Still, despite all this that I think... I want to be meant for something, to have specific purpose. A destiny of my own. But why do I want this, beyond this longing that nearly everyone I've ever met shares with me? Perhaps I want to be told who I am because it's easier than discovering my identity myself. Being told removes doubt, removes free will, removes risk. And removes the ultimate purpose underlying the personal purpose.

Of course, there's also the question of what the desires of my heart are... and the fears that are holding me back. To be continued...

Refresher

2009-02-04T16:52:00.008-05:00

In cleaning out my email inbox, I stumbled across my response to my wonderful friend Tana who was looking for some feedback on some ideas she had regarding a course she'd been requested to help develop. I think Tana learned her lesson in asking me for feedback, because I vomited all the stuff below back to her. In my defense, it was nearly midnight after a long day. However, there is some stuff in here that has some merit (mostly quotes from Bonhoeffer!) and that has encouraged me today, so close on the heels of a very serious bout of depression. All that being said... hope you can get something out of this, AND, if you feel so led, your reciprocal thoughts are always welcome!

I keep running into the same questions every time I hear "love your neighbor as yourself"... "What is loving yourself? What does that look like? How do I get there?" I think there's a lot of confusion on that.

My take (where God seems to be taking me) is we erroneously have the idea that love = worth. Worth may have a bit part in love, but it's not the whole thing. Kinda like Ohio is part of the USA, but the USA is not just Ohio. (Of course, like Ohio, the "loving yourself" attitude in most Christians - especially women - seems to be a swing state.

So the problems we have loving ourselves because of ...weight, appearance, emotional hangups, worries about incompetency, past failures/hurts, etc.... are all things that boil down to "I'm not worthy because..." I think this is a very clever ploy by our Adversary to get us distracted by non-issues* that keep us from recognizing the truth.

The truth? The truth is that love is not something we can fabricate of our own will.

Let me work backward through those questions I listed above...

"How do I get there?" We know through experience and teaching that our Christian walk is no formula. The idea that we can achieve loving ourselves (and, by proxy, loving our neighbor) through a 12-step program of biblical principles? Hogwash. The "biblical principles" may exist as verses that guideline how to be in right relationship with God & other people (Torah), but we know that to take and apply them as a formula (usually separate from the rest of the guidelines) might be effective in making us nice people and give us some experiences we can pat ourselves on the backs with, but really don't offer much in the way of the heart-change that signals love.

"What does that look like?" What does love look like? If we know that loving someone (spouse, child, parent, friend) means we have compassion for them, we're kind to them, we take care of them when they need us, we sacrifice for them, we encourage them, we discipline them (rebuke, gentle nudge, whatever), we forgive them when they hurt us, we grieve with them, we rejoice with them, we give thanks for them and to them... then why should the list be any different for us? This means we realize we're not perfect (compassion), we treat ourselves with dignity (kindness), we give ourselves opportunities to heal (taking care), we give up what's not healthy or is prohibiting growth (sacrifice), we look for the good God's put in us (encourage), we repent from sin (discipline), we admit failure, learn and move on (forgive), we mourn loss (grieve), we recognize progress (rejoice), we give praise for everyday we have to be ourselves in Christ (thanks).

"What is loving myself?" We intentionally enter into community with ourselves. I know that sounds weird, but I think it really does fit. In talking with Don and reading Bonhoeffer's Life Together, the idea that we need to give others grace to be who they are without our expectations for their behavior (especially towards us) is the cornerstone for really being open to loving them. So, as the created children of God on equal footing with everyone else, why do we not give ourselves grace to be? Now, I'm not advocating that we have no standards/principles, just as I know that if someone came to agape meal and was abusive physically/verbally to the others, Don and the guys would draw them aside or deal with the issue somehow. I guess what I'm hitting at here is kinda the "you're not the judge" idea you already have in your notes, Tana.

Bonhoeffer writes, "...the goal of all Christian community: they meet one another as bringers of the message of salvation." How can we be bringers of the message of salvation (love our neighbor) if we cannot believe we are saved (love ourselves)? He continues, "...the community of Christians springs solely from the Biblical and Reformation message of of the justification of man through grace alone..." And here is where I come to the crux of my thoughts: if community is based on grace and its goal is to share this grace as good news and this grace is completely dependent on God as His gift, then we need to recognize that love - for ourselves and our neighbors - is also not ours to generate. I think this brings freedom - freedom from the burden of trying to feel loving in order to love as we are commanded.

Think about it - we are justified by grace alone. Our worthiness/unworthiness has nothing to do with it. That means we are free from trying to earn it/keep it. God will still love me even if I never lose a pound. Who am I to say that's not good enough?

Or... We are the created, not the creators. Since God is love (1 John 4:8), and we didn't create God, than we can't create love.

Bonhoeffer talks about human love and spiritual love. There's a lot of great stuff in that section, but here's a good summary of what I'm trying to get at:

"Human love constructs its own image of the ... person, of what he is and what he should become. It takes the life of the ... person into its own hands. Spiritual love recognizes the true image of the ... person which he has received from Jesus Christ; the images that Jesus Christ himself embodied and would stamp upon all men."

These last few weeks where I've been with God every morning and evening have been amazing. And I think one of the main reasons its happening for me now is that I'm simply taking each day as it comes and rejoicing over it. I'm praying that I'll never let go of this again, but I'm not worrying over the next day. I'm just thankful for my daily bread. This same attitude has soaked into the way I feel about myself. I have good moments and bad moments, but for the most part, I'm just thankful I'm God's. The idea that all I am and all I have is His is incredibly liberating and has allowed me to put aside the temptation to accept how I feel as the truth of where I stand with God; rather, taking up my cross each day to follow Him instead of carrying my own burdens is much easier. Just as he promised. :)

And so I'll wrap up with the verse that has brought so much comfort and given me so much to praise God for...

Matthew 11:28: "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give
you rest."

Amen!

*And by "non-issues" here, I mean that these things all need to be dealt with but loving yourself can come BEFORE all this stuff is taken care of. For instance, I'm still fat and not happy about that, but it's not preventing me from enjoying the freedom God has given me through the truth of his love.

Thoughts

2009-01-27T10:11:00.002-05:00

This is what I've been thinking about between yesterday and today.

You know what? Never mind. Because I'm going to get one or two responses that tell me I shouldn't feel that way, that will tell me I'm special or try to reason with me. But it's all bunk. Seriously.

I don't doubt you are smarter than I am, but I can't imagine you have anything new to say that I haven't used before to cheer myself up. The arguments are stale and flat. There's no life to them. Most likely because they're not true.

I'm so tired. I'm tired of trying and not getting anywhere. I'm tired of subscribing to the fallacy that each of us is unique, that we all contribute something special. No offense to you. You are all amazing people. But not everyone is. The fact is, anyone could do what I do. And probably better. So let me make room for them.

Oh, wait. You want to use the line of reasoning that I do think I'm special because I'm trying to say that everyone else is except for me. Well, no. Not really. I think there are some other folks out there just as expendable as me. There are over 6 billion people on the planet, with thousands dying needlessly everyday. You want to tell me how great and loving God is when some people don't ever have a chance to live? And then He makes people like me who have no end of the necessities of life, but can't seem to rise above and actually do something with themselves. I think that either He doesn't listen to me anymore or He never did in the first place.

No, I'm so done with clinging to a hope that's disappointed me over and over again.

I don't doubt you. I know you care. I appreciate that you came to my birthday dinner. And for those that couldn't be there but have invested so much into me, thanks. I'm sorry it's been a waste.

I don't want calls or emails. I know it seems that posting this is a call for attention. Yeah, I know I'm a whore in that regard. But this time, I just want to dump. I don't want sympathy or hugs or anything else. I want to be left alone.

I will do what I need to do. I'll keep going through the motions. But I'm tired of making excuses for myself. For God. For other people. It's all a big waste. At least on my part.

Random Thoughts, The Sequel

2009-01-12T13:43:00.009-05:00

In no particular order, here are some issues that have concerned me lately...

Imitation Crabmeat. It's kosher, so there's obviously no crab in it, which then begs the question of how "they" make it look and taste like crab. And was there a huge Jewish demand for imitation crabmeat that necessitated its creation? If so, how did Jewish people know they wanted imitation crabmeat if they'd never tasted crab? Sinners!

How negative can you be before you're considered a pessimist? I suppose this is relative - Johnny hates the rain because it ruined his picnic, Susie loves it because it makes flowers grow, so Johnny is the pessimist here; however, Johnny is an optimist compared to Fred, who just plain hates rain. I wonder this because of a discussion I recently participated in where I guess I came across as a pessimist. But when I go home and listen to a very dear relation of mine, I feel like freaking Pollyanna . . . well, until I listen long enough to start looking for the dull razor blades.

OK, this is going to come across as complaining. Maybe it is. I don't care. I just really want to know why I often see very attractive/pretty/sometimes beautiful women with average- or below average-looking guys, but I very, very rarely see the opposite.

What makes kosher salt kosher?

Hairless cats. Why? Seriously. Remove the hair, remove the chance of finding the cat remotely desirable of petting, adoring, etc.

People always want to ask G-d questions, like "Why is there pain and suffering in the world You created?" But I think G-d would frequently like to ask us, "What the heck were you thinking?!"

I miss my grandma.

Why do we wait until people are dead to say how much we cared about them, how much we respect/admire them, how special they were? We all need to hear it NOW.

If it's not aging that bothers you, what's up with not celebrating your birthday? It's the one day in the year where you're excused for making it all about you!

Why are bunnies so dang cute?

I need more... gumption/moxie. Know where I can get some?

Forgetting Love, Part Deux

2008-12-30T21:44:00.007-05:00

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

2008-11-28T19:18:00.009-05:00

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

2008-11-16T22:14:00.004-05:00

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

2008-08-30T23:59:00.002-04:00

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)

2008-07-27T22:17:00.006-04:00

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

2008-07-09T21:21:00.002-04:00

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?

2008-07-08T21:05:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-07T14:59:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-06T22:36:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-05T09:54:00.003-04:00

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!

2008-07-04T08:58:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-03T14:16:00.006-04:00

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

2008-07-03T13:33:00.003-04:00

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

2008-05-19T13:13:00.002-04:00

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.

2008-03-28T11:16:00.001-04:00

Is it me? You decide!

One Statement/Response

2008-02-01T12:14:00.000-05:00

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

2008-01-25T09:44:00.001-05:00

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

2008-01-15T13:32:00.000-05:00

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!

Fighting for Lives

2007-12-19T11:24:00.000-05:00

I'm a head-ducker. I admit it. I hate conflict and controversy. My version of Hell is being tied to a chair and forced to watch The Springer Show for eternity (or, alternately, being around my extended family during, well, any time of the year). Add to that the fact I'm gullible and empathetic and a middle-of-the-road walker. I'm not very good at rallying. I don't "do" picket lines or boycotts. I reserve judgment until I'm forced to choose something (and if I can avoid choosing altogether, I remain irritably ambiguous forever).

BUT... sometimes, you can't ignore a problem. Sometimes, you can't shut out the need for change. And change is definitely needed.

So, how'd I get convinced to take a stand? I got involved in a group that goes and loves on some people downtown once a week. I met people with great need, people with names and stories, and I talked to them myself. I started to care, along with the other people in our group. We learned these people have no special interest group, no lobbyists, no advocates with deep pockets.

Which means I have to advocate for them. I have to join other individuals who are passionate about getting people off the streets and into housing, into jobs, into rehab programs.

It also means YOU have to advocate for them, even if it's just a few minutes of your time (or an hour). Because I know you care. This blog doesn't have a big following, so I probably know at least 90% of the folks that read it. And I know you all are people with big hearts.

Here's the gist of the situation: The Toledo-Lucas County (TLC) Homelessness Board has some issues, and longtime homeless advocate (and my friend) Ken Leslie is calling for change. You can find out all about it at 1matters.org. I encourage you to subscribe (RSS feed or email) to stay updated.

I will be at One Government Center Thursday night (12/20) at 7pm for at least an hour. Those who are there will be gathered to recognize the Fight for Housing/National Homeless Person’s Memorial Day and to get our voices heard on behalf of the Homeless of Toledo.

For Amy, Willard, Dave, Keith, Vince, Joseph, Phyllis, Jeff, and the dozens of other men and women we see every Saturday morning - Thank You.

Random Thoughts & Observations

2007-12-11T22:07:00.000-05:00

There's been a lot going on with me and with friends/family. But I struggle with just chatting about everything, even online or via email. I guess because I'm lazy - it seems too tiresome to write it all down. And if it's tiresome for me, I can only imagine how it must be for the 2 people who read this blog. But anyway...

Here's a little download of events, thoughts, and general brain vomit:

One of the things I'm most excited about lately is a group I've been serving with for about 4 months now, called Food for Thought. The group has actually been around for around 7 months, and it's exploding at the seams. The short version is that a group of 10 people with a shared vision of taking sack lunches downtown to the library and giving them away (the first Saturday they took 50 lunches, and it took them 2.5 hours to get rid of most of them) has grown into also providing hygiene products, coffee/hot choc/soup, warm clothing, blankets, refurbished bikes, and the occasional bus ticket or referral to a service for the next step out of living on the streets. It now only takes about 45 minutes to give away 250 lunches, made and distributed by over 30 (often more) volunteers. The best part of it all are the relationships that form; as this week's newsletter stated, "The people we serve can get a meal at several other places. They come to us for the care and the dignity we give them."
I'm learning that it's hard to make room in your life for real relationships. One of the things that hurts me is so often being on the fringe of others' lives. I'm a high priority with very few people. This is not to say that I want to be high maintenance - I just want to feel embraced. I want to feel wanted. (Don't we all?) I really only know a couple people that do a great job of making me feel welcome. (Thank you!) Yet, this line of thinking brings me about to two things: 1) do I worry so much about coming off as needy/clingy and try to act so self-sufficient that I repell those who would otherwise be more inclusive; and 2) how well do I embrace other people? Am I opening myself up enough so others can warm up to me and feel cared for by me? I'm afraid I'm not a terribly friendly person. :(
Judging by my spam folder in my work email, I must enjoy sending myself offers for unbelievably discounted viagra and cialis. (We're talking up to 76% off here!) Wish I was as prolific at sending myself offers for unbelievably discounted clothes. I could use some...
I have friends who, even though I should be used to it by now, continually amaze me. Pastor Steve and Tricia are buying a house in Vancouver, WA (just on the other side of the Columbia River from Portland, OR), the same town in which our friends Laura and Tim live. They're also going through the process to become adoptive parents to a special needs child. They have a great blog going here, and let me extend the invitation to you to pray for them and their future kid(s). I love these folks, even if they are exhausting. :)
So I don't think I placed at all in that poetry contest, since I haven't heard anything from them. Thanks to anyone reading this that voted for me. It was nice to make it into the finalists. I have notes I took in the summer on a poem which I think is worth writing someday soon.
These posts are always full of I, I, I... It would be nice not to be so self-centered. :P

That's it. I'm tired and it's past time to hit the sack. Smell ya later.

Messiah

2007-12-03T17:25:00.000-05:00

About a half-dozen years ago, I wrote this poem. And then dusted it off and edited it a couple years later. And this year, I dug it up and tinkered with it again. I'm not quite happy with it, but neither am I ready to throw in the towel. It seems a little clunky and - for all the editing (probably more than I've done to any other poem I've written) - unfinished. I don't know. Perhaps you have some suggestions...

Anyway, it seems appropriate for the season, so I thought I'd post it just for kicks.

Messiah

From borrowed manger to borrowed tomb,
From guiding star to Calvary’s gloom,
From swaddling clothes to tear-soaked shroud,
From angelic chorus to jeering crowd,
From given gold to bought with silver,
From Lord of Life to death’s chill shiver,
From warm, sweet hay to cold stone bed,
From Prince of Peace to thorn-crowned head…

From crowded inn to empty grave,
From angels’ care to Death to brave,
From humble stable to heavenly throne,
From refugee to cornerstone,
From shepherds’ search to world celebration,
From helpless babe to Lord of Creation,
From Emmanuel to God in us,
From prophecy to delivered Promise.

Freedom (or, The Day I Almost Bought a New Car)

2007-10-02T11:49:00.000-04:00

nce upon a time, I thought growing up meant freedom. Adults could drive, they could buy things, they had the power to veto your happiness. They didn’t have to ask permission to do what they wanted to do. They could make their own decisions. And unless they were bad people who did illegal things, they didn’t get punished by anyone for their decisions.

But all this was, of course, before I became an adult. I could look back with nostalgia on my childhood and see that that was truly my time of freedom, but that idea would be wrong, too. There are trade-offs to every stage, and what looks like freedom at one will look like bondage at another. And vice versa.

The reason I bring this up is that I moved forward (I think) on the road to maturity today. I had the freedom to decide to buy something I wanted very much last night, something I could afford. But during the night, my heart changed. I prayed for wisdom in making the right decision. I reexamined my priorities. I thought about what I wanted for the long-term. And everything pointed to letting go to what I wanted for now.

I could be disappointed in having to wait and also sacrificing the opportunity to get exactly what I want. Yet all I feel is peace and gratitude. My prayers are being answered.

There are consequences for our actions, good and bad. Bad choices may not throw us in jail or even make us bad people, but they build upon each other. They become habits, then they become traps - even addictions. The saving grace, though, for anyone, is that every moment brings a new decision, a new chance to change the flow of your life, even if it means damming it up in places to give it direction. That’s what I did this morning.

I don’t know how much it will change me – how far-reaching the consequences of this decision will be. I know what I want to happen, and a lot of that hinges on continuing to make good decisions, many of which will be more sacrifices. But today, I took my second step towards maturity. My first step was prayer for change, and the third step will be prayer for my next decision, whatever it is – sacrifice or not.

Today, though – today, I rejoice in an adult perspective… and to saying no to myself.

Awe

2007-08-27T12:47:00.000-04:00

Last night I returned from a mini-vacation to Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada. It was lovely, but not relaxing - at least, not on the whole. We did too much running around on the 4-day trip, plus having to return to work the day after driving over 6 hours to get home (after having been up before 5:30 am) was not my idea of kicking-back. But it was a collection of great experiences.

I went on the trip with Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz in my hand, and a recent [wonderful] conversation about worship on my mind. I guess I'm saying I was in a contemplative mood all through the trip, and so my take on what I saw and felt kept coming back to that theme - worship, what I know it to be and what I want it to be.

The falls are . . . Incredible. Amazing. Breathtaking. Achingly beautiful. Powerful. And more. I got to stand above them, beside them, behind them, and nearly underneath them. I saw them during the day, and lit up at night. I watched the falls in the middle of a hot, sweaty crowd buzzing with excitement, and nearly by myself in a garden. I took pictures of the falls, I talked about the falls, I breathed in the mist of the falls, and I got drenched by the falls. The only thing I could have done to get closer to the falls was to jump in and go plunging over the cliff with the water.

As for that, taking a headlong dive would be difficult. It appears the Niagara Parks Commission was a little nervous on my behalf and erected fences and rails and other obstructions. So, while I was close to the falls, I was held back. Kept safe. No becoming one with nature for me.

Standing behind the falls in the tunnels, with the constant thunder of enough water to fill a million bathtubs every hour pouring over my head, and then beside the falls getting soaked on the observation deck while trying to take pictures without ruining my camera, I felt worshipful. Well, sometimes. It was distracting, what with all the other people in the way, trying to take pictures while getting soaked. In fact, the only thing that marred my trip was other people. Some people were just plain rude. But it was always annoying having to share space with other people wanting the same experience. Tourists getting in the way of my tour.

At the same time, I longed for one moment when everyone would have that individual ah-ha moment of silence, in awe of the spectacle we were all witnessing - but at the same time. The kind of moment when, together, we each transcend both the sameness and the differences of ourselves and are unified by the experience to which we were all drawn.

The closest I got to this was while I was on the Maid of the Mist, at the foot of the Horseshoe Falls. It got to the point where it was too wet for most of us to use our cameras, when we had to put away the devices by which we felt justified to step in front of others in order to get the perfect shot (which, for the most part, gets printed and put into a book at which we rarely ever look). We stopped looking through our various lenses and saw with our own eyes. We were at the foot of the falls, in the middle of the column of mist made as water pounded into water, looking up at a sight that had rendered us nearly unable to control our own experience.

It was then that the water in my eyes wasn't all mist. I was overcome - we were overcome - and we were together in awe.

Ripe

2007-04-06T12:59:00.000-04:00

I'm ready to fall in love with Jesus again.

The last time was two years ago, exactly. It was Easter weekend, and I was house-sitting for my folks, who'd taken Abby and gone to Las Vegas. I had resolved to read through the Gospels, but this time... I was going to read it just to get to know Jesus. To try and read his words just as they were printed in my Bible, no extra notes or added theological baggage. To try and forget everything I've ever heard. A hard feat, but one worth pursuing.

Because the result was that my world was radically changed. I fell in love with Christ for the first time, the first time loving him for himself and not what he did for me. I kept reading and reading everyday, and another first happened - I was having consistent daily devotions for first time in my 20-some years as a professing Christian. I started memorizing scripture. I had the most amazing prayer times. I had moments, both in devotions and during ordinary events, when I knew that the Spirit had moved and God had spoken to me. And over it all was this beautiful, awestruck incredulousness that I was finally in the place I had wanted but could never seem to get into for so long. I was walking with God, and I knew it only got better from there.

So what happened? Well, it's necessary to relate what else was going on in my life at the time. I'll try to be as brief as possible, but I can't promise you pithiness.

1) The church I had attended for over 6 years was being led by a pastor that had joined us just that previous August. That Easter was supposed to be this radical relaunch of our church, and so many things had changed to accommodate the new paradigm, many of which I, as a designer and marketing person, had a hand in creating. All lingering bitterness aside and to simply put it, when our relaunch attracted absolutely no new visitors, our pastor made it his mission to take to his heels as quickly as possible and, to ensure less guilt on his part for leaving, tried his best to discourage, disrupt, and sow seeds of hurt and war among members, all to make sure the church closed its doors soon after he left.

2) His leaving in early June left the district in charge of the church, with the church's board acting as best it could to hold everything together in the absence of a leader. Many, many things were discussed and happened and so on, but the gist of it was that, as secretary of the board, I was under the double pressure of being the board and the church's liaison to the district (specifically, to the district superintendent, who experienced many serious illnesses and family tragedies that summer, throwing circumstances into a greater state of confusion). I tried to initiate a time of dedicated prayer for the board to occur every Sunday morning before church. Not once during the 2+ months it was initiated was the entire board (of 6 people) in that room.

3) Meanwhile (and a little before all this), I'm reading Relevant magazine and books like Red Moon Rising and The Vision & the Vow and The Coffeehouse Gospel and The Journey Towards Relevance. My world is opening up. I'm reading the words of Christ and realizing that much of my church life so far has been, not wasteful or pointless, but still missing quite a lot. I begin to think new thoughts, thoughts about my responsibilities as a Christ-follower, a leader-needing-to-become-servant. Desires are blossoming in my heart - visions of the kind of church I want to be involved in - and, as much as I loved (and still love) the members of my church, I did not see my path and its aligning.

4) I put feelers out for a church. (I knew it was a housechurch I wanted to be in, but how do you find a housechurch? They're not exactly found in the Yellow Pages.) So I again turned to Relevant, whose site has a church directory on it. There I found my current community, but did not enter in with them for a few months, trying my best to lead by example, encourage, and keep everyone on the same page at the old church.

5) Finally, after several stressful, confusing, and frustrating months (still having wonderful daily devotions - the only thing that kept me going so long, except for a couple wonderful friends), I came to the conclusion that I was making no difference, and I may as well move on and let the church do the same. And my last Sunday there proved that my efforts had made no impact. I was deeply hurt and heartbroken, and struggled with resentment. I turned to my new community, excited and relieved, but burnt out. Exhausted. Despairing of being able to be worthwhile and impactful.

And that's when, somewhere along the way, I let the daily devotions slip. I went back to mediocrity.

But I'm right here, now, feeling the same stirring. Knowing that I'm being drawn, aching for the same love, being wooed with the most incredible tenderness, challenged to change with the same fierce sincerity and promise of support as before. My heart, my head, my spirit, and my life are ripe to become - oh, please, not only once again but forevermore! - completely abandoned to my beautiful and amazing God. My Jesus. Mine.

Lord, so be it. Help me.

The Dark Princess

2007-04-02T15:58:00.000-04:00

With half-hearted apologies, here is a post from my alter ego...

"The Dark Princess." That's what my dad called me in my teens. I used to dress in dark colors and write copious amounts of depressing poetry and try to wring pity from the people around me. (Obviously, it was a joke to my dad.) Now, while not a complete opposite, those whom I interact with often consider me outgoing. Now, I have friends whom I strongly suspect consider me frivolous and shallow. Not exactly what I was going for.

Over the years, I came to realize that personalities like mine (negative) were draining. Nobody I liked being around behaved like me, and they certainly didn't like being around me. But now I'm visiting this issue again from the flip side. And it's incredibly frustrating to think I've changed so much to gain hardly any ground.

I feel more "me" than I was in my teens. No wonder - I spent so much time hiding who I was I convinced myself I was the withdrawn, tragic figure I always presented. But why did I hide? I think, for one, I didn't know who I was. I've always been a couple of steps behind my peers in some ways, and particularly in the identity department. But I also think that part of the HPS (hidden personality syndrome - my own term, I think) was due to several factors - growing up surrounded by adults, certain incidents that happened when I was small, my parents' divorce (I've only just begun to process how that impacted me), a natural tendency to find more satisfaction in my own imagination than in the company of others, and barely any true encouragement for the things I showed an aptitude in (art and writing). And I believe pressure to continue in something because you're proud of your child's talent/ability (not evil in itself, but detrimental if devoid of the next quality) is quite different than nurturing that talent/ability because your child's joy in it brings you joy.

But I think I've digressed a bit. What I'm trying to say is this whole approach of making my self more "attractive" by having a more friendly, assertive personality... it's not working. You may contend that it's due to a lack of conviction, and to a certain extent you may be right. But consider the fact that sometimes I actually am confident in myself, that I know I'm being witty and people are laughing because my comments are genuinely funny, or that I walk away from the mirror in the morning fairly satisfied that I've made myself attractive, or that I finished a creative project that I know has stretched me and exceeded my own expectations.... All those little moments add up.

Yet it only takes one little pin-prick to deflate me, to convince me I'm undesirable, unloveable, unworthy, and will always remain so. Those little self-affirming moments? They weren't bricks I built my self-image with, they were grains of sand.

So much for confidence building confidence.

Hello? Anyone out there?

2007-04-01T22:32:00.000-04:00

I wonder if there is a point to me writing a blog. I have a journal, after all. So for what purpose does this blog exist?

I have nothing profound to share. I'm constantly surrounded by people who are much more intelligent and skillful at expressing themselves than I am. But there I go, comparing myself again.

So, I'm still left with this question, and it has only one answer: I'm here for me. I'm here to get attention. I'm here to see if anyone cares what I have to say, even if it's not as eloquent as what they could write.

Yes, I realize how pitiful and selfish I am. But I'm tired of beating myself up for that. I do it all the time, I really do. The sad thing is I had someone compliment me today, and I was too embarrassed to receive it well, probably because I was fishing for it, though I just now realize that. And when you have to ask someone to care about what you do, their feedback, no matter how sincere, loses some of its power.

Of course, I'm back to the whole "looking outside myself for validation" thing. Or, if you prefer, idolatry.

I've also had the thought, why are we so uncomfortable with vulnerability? The only person I cry in front of (and that is rare) is my aunt (please disregard the tears when I'm reading or watching TV or a movie). For crying out loud, I see a counselor, and I never fully open up! And yet I write things on a public forum, trying to be transparent, asking for people to see me for who I really am.

I feel needy as I write this, like I'm asking too much. Am I? You who read this, should I bother? Is it worth your time to read my thoughts? Do you understand what I want, and also that I am scared to receive it?

Because I want honesty. I want your vulnerability, too. I want to be known, and I want to know you. And I want to know... do you want me to know you? Or have you decided that I can't be trusted or that I wouldn't understand?

Am I valuable enough for real communication?

Sweet Somethings: A Better Lottery

2007-03-05T13:36:00.000-05:00

In my senior year of high school, I participated in a program called Peer Counselors (also known as Peer Helpers later on, because of the potential liability of calling teenagers "counselors"). To participate in this program, as I had done my freshman year, you had to pay an outrageous fee to attend a weekend training retreat.

This was actually a good thing, as it armed those who attended (and cared to pay attention) with some basic active listening and confrontation/conflict "de-escalation" skills. One of the other perks of the retreat, other than it being a co-ed function *cough, cough*, was the various team- and confidence-building projects we got to do. For example, each participant made a large envelope with their name and whatever other decor they wished to put on it. These envelopes were hung along the perimeter of the largish main meeting room, and all were assigned the task of writing positive comments about each of the other students and inserting them into the envelopes. (Much like elementary school Valentine mailboxes.)

Silly as it may sound, I kept my envelope for many more years than I care to admit. Every now and then, when feeling low, I would pull it out and reread the comments. Eventually, several years ago, I came to two realizations: 1) with just a couple exceptions, I really didn't know the people who wrote those comments anymore, and 2) I was no longer the same person - the comments didn't really apply to me. In a fit of putting my house in order, I threw the envelope away, along with all my old yearbooks and other irrelevant (and some painful) memories.

I did, however, have at the time of the fire a limited collection of more recent "positivities" which became kindling. I sort of mourn their loss. There were cards with notes in them from people I still know - people I very much respect. At the same time, though, I have come to value both the idea that these notes are not meant to be dwelt upon forever and the importance of "paying it forward."

I've decided to make a monthly project of picking a friend or relative and writing them a note/letter/list of reasons they are special to me. People will be chosen at random, kind of like a lottery.

Another project is to replace something I miss very much - my "Happy Thoughts" book. This was a black wire-bound journal plastered with bright yellow smileys, and I had nearly filled it with quotes, quips and favorite poems. Things that made me smile, lightened my mood, or energized me to think beyond my microcosm.

So... here's to new projects and resurrecting old ones. Good luck at winning my lottery!

My Visual DNA

2007-02-13T16:20:00.000-05:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Virtual Home Tour

2007-02-08T10:15:00.000-05:00

For those of you who haven't made it to visit Lou and I, I'm posting some pictures my mom took last time she visited me. I wanted to do this on the anniversary of the fire, but forgot to email me mum in time. So, welcome to my home!

Come on in the front door!

First stop, the living room.

Next is a 360 of the kitchen, cause it's so dang cute!

We really should clean up the front of the fridge. If there weren't so many papers, you'd see the smiley "face" the fridge makes - even it is happy to be here!

A peek out the kitchen door to the deck and the back yard! (Sarah, aren't you glad you live in Texas? No cruddy snow to shovel!)

The all-important throne room! I have a teeny half-bath upstairs (I call it my Poop Closet), but Mom forgot to take pictures of that. It's decorated in an International Travel theme. (You know all those postcards I collect? Yyyeeeaaahhh....)

Finally, my bedroom, though I really don't want you to see it, since it's not done the way I want. But here's the general idea. I will post more pictures of it (plus my office) when they're closer to being "done."

Thanks for stopping by! And if you can make it for real, all the better!

The Anniversary

2007-02-05T10:58:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of the fire that destroyed my aunt's condo - our home.

Granted, we are in a better neighborhood, in a house we like much better than the old condo. Granted, the community and our friends and family really stepped up and gave so much more than we could ever have expected. Granted, God is continuing to bless us all the time.

And we definitely do not take these blessings (and lessons) for granted.

But there is something wrong still. It's been a year since the fire completely destroyed Building B at Hidden Cedars Condominium complex. The one that left nearly 16 families, some renters and some owner/occupiers (such as my aunt), looking for a new home. So what's happened in a year?

Nothing.

The grass has grown over the old footprint of the building, but no ground has been broken to rebuild it. While we, and other families, had to move on out of necessity, those who owned units in Building B (such as my aunt) are still paying the price for a home that doesn't exist anymore. And will not exist any time in the near future.

The problem lies with the leadership - the board of owners at the complex. And the majority of the problem with the board is a man by the name of Herbie Howard. Mr. Howard is constantly in the news for various reasons (not all of them positive, which doesn't surprise those who've dealt with him), and is a major real estate "developer" in the region. I use quotations because, in our admittedly limited experience in dealing with Mr. Howard, we've found him to be a slum lord, pure and simple.

I'd go on and on, but there's no reason to set myself up for allegations of libel. Suffice it to write that I'm sure there's a really juicy story about Mr. Howard's business conduct if anyone had the courage to investigate.

Meanwhile, my aunt is stuck with paying for a home that no longer exists.

New Year's Wishes for Friends & Family

2007-01-01T11:14:00.000-05:00

I had an awesome time last night, even though my friends felt it vital enough to pause our game of Catch Phrase to watch the ball drop. I've managed to avoid the sentimental musings that come at this time until now, when I just woke up in a contemplative mood.

After a hellacious year (is that still a bad word when you add "acious" to it? if so, and if I've made your eyeballs pop and your jaw drop at my profanity, my apologies), which includes a home-destroying fire, a huge upheaval at work, some deep depression and soul-searching, one HECK of a scary day that ended up with an ambulance call and my aunt still (that would be "as of right now") recovering from a mild heart attack, pneumonia, and a leg infection combo of cellulitis and lymphodema, and a sudden jump start on a popular new-year's resolution (lose weight)... I think I might have a little to say to the people I love (and whoever else stumbles on this blog). (Gee, how's that for a great run-on sentence and a major overuse of parentheses?)

So, at the end of this crazy year, here's what I wish for you, Dear Reader:

May 2007 bring you to better health. Maybe you'll carry through with that resolution you've made, or the one you're ignoring, or maybe you'll get a huge scare like we did. Honestly? Whatever it takes, because I want you around for a good, long time.

I hope you find a deeper level of brokenness and vulnerability than you've ever reached before. I know when I say this the odds are 10 to 1 it will have to come through some crappy circumstances I'm not really wishing on you, but I also know that's what it usually takes to get there. And let God use that brokenness to change your heart, and that vulnerability to make bridges to other hearts. It's so much greater than staying the way you are, because we're all broken anyway, and we might as well move on to where we let it actually make a difference.

I hope someone surprises you with something you've always wanted. It's nice to have people come through like that, as long as it doesn't happen all the time.

I also hope you get denied and rejected now and then. It's good for us. It reminds us to trust God, and rejection can sometimes help us identify with Him.

And I really, really hope you discover for yourself (or rediscover) how much you are loved. If by no one else, then by God. But chances are that if you're taking time to read this, you're family or friend. And I love you. I hope I'll be able to show it better this year, that my love will be more mature and sensitive to the needs around me, but just in case.... I love you. Remember that when I act stoopeed or selfish or even offensive. Cuz we know that's pretty much a given.

That's it. Well, not really. But I think I've been mushy enough. Maybe I'll add to it next year.

But until then, be blessed. Be hungry. Be satisfied, and hungry again. Be loved and loving. Be joyful, and spread it around. Be changed.

Love,
Amanda

Lost & Found

2006-11-30T16:45:00.000-05:00

Whenever I think about the fire, I think of some of the things I lost. Many of those are books, and one in particular is a poetry anthology. The copy I had was dog-eared from reading and re-reading and re-discovering poets like Mari Evans and Phyllis McGinley and Richard Wilbur, and even the standards - Whitman and Frost and Browning. This is the book that made me realize that the copious amount of verse I wrote in high school was not really poetry. At least, not the kind that contributes to literature, the kind people read over and over again and come to memorize certain passages, even whole poems, and helps them crystallize their feelings and thoughts and understand the world around them. The majority of my poetry rarely transcended above my selfish need to pour out my adolescent angst.

I loved this book. It's the only one I have spent any real time searching for so I could replace it. My problem was that I couldn't remember it's title or the editor's name - only that she was a she. I've actually grieved for this book (hey, some books are like good friends - you can turn to them anytime you need to, and you understand them and they understand you), and I've almost given up searching for it. Almost.

And today... I FOUND IT!!!!!! Excuse me for screaming, but it's worth it. And... I found it for the perfectly paltry price of $2.95 (plus shipping). Thanks, Alibris!

God bless the Internet.

Class Clown?

2006-10-06T11:16:00.000-04:00

Turns out my high school class president is now a full-time comedian. I'd make some smart-aleck comment about that being indicative of the quality of my public school education, but Rajiv is actually a pretty intelligent guy. And, from what I choose to recall of my adolescence, a pretty nice guy to boot. (Irrelevant side: why do we use the phrase "to boot"? Sounds like I want to give him a kick in the pants.)

I remember three main things about Rajiv. The first is from our freshman year at Fairfield High School, the first day, in English class. The teacher's doing roll call and gets to Rajiv Satyal. She takes her time to pronounce it... "Rah-zheev Saht-yawl"... and immediately asks if she's said his name correctly.

Rajiv: Almost.

Teacher: Well, how do you pronounce it?

Rajiv: Rah-zheev Saht-yawl

Class: Ha, ha, ha...

The ironic? coincidental? thing about all this is it's similar to part of Rajiv's stand-up routine (go ahead, google "rajiv pronounce" and you get a ton of links, the first one being one of his clips on YouTube). From this incident, I (in my pathetic attempt to be humorous myself) would refer to him as "Almost Rajiv. Because he's almost there." (Please stop groaning.)

The second thing I remember about Rajiv is that he would either write "Just Do It" or "Vote for me - Class Clown" (or both!) every time he'd condescend to sign my yearbook.

Lastly, I remember "working" with Rajiv in Peer Counselors/Helpers/Do-Gooders. Don't know if he did that because he was truly a nice guy and wanted to help his peers, or because it might help him get more votes when running for class president/look good on his college resume, but I prefer to think it was the former.

Good luck, Rajiv! Oh, and by the way, Toledo does have a Comedy Club. *cough*

If you want to help Rajiv make it to the big time, here's what he asks people do to promote him:

Website Subscriptions: Get 10 of your friends to sign up on my website. All they have to do is go to www.funnyindian.com and input their information at the top-right. They won't get spammed.

MySpace Friends: Add me to your friends on MySpace at www.myspace.com/funnyindian. Send out a bulletin to your friends to do the same.

Website Blog: Read my blog! Bookmark it and surf it when you have downtime at work. Comment on it — I love the interaction.

MySpace Blog: Subscribe to my blog at http://blog.myspace.com/funnyindian.

Friendster: Add me to your friends on Friendster at www.friendster.com/funnyindian.

iTunes: Subscribe to my podcast in iTunes.

Funny Indian Newsletter: Forward this update to your friends.

Obesity vs. Terrorism

2006-09-13T14:04:00.000-04:00

May I suggest (to follow up on my 8/14/06 post) that obesity and terrorism are not rivals - they're partners!

Someone should let the Surgeon General know.

Beetles & Chemical Dyes, O My!

2006-08-17T08:52:00.000-04:00

My friend Debbie sent me an article via email (it's all the same info as what's in the link above, which is the blog post title) and I now want to shrivel up and never eat again. (Unless it's ice cream, of course. Do they make organic ice cream, and is it worth it?)

Anyway, so if you want to get depressed about your fridge's contents or become more supermarket-savvy, by all means visit the link. If you want to remain in ignorance of the crushed beetles you are ingesting, then don't read!

Anyone up for a yogurt?

Terrorist Plot Uncovered! News at 11!

2006-08-14T17:12:00.000-04:00

With all due respect to the recent furor over the (forunately) discovered conspiracy of blowing up British-American flights last week, I offer this little piece of intended humor to lighten the mood.

I am sitting at home indulging an Amelia Peabody mystery after a long day of serving (or attempting to serve) at church. I'm tired, sweaty, but relatively free of any particular want or care. (There is a need, however, of doing the rest of the dishes, but that is easily ignored.) The Boo is asleep, and I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. Er, I mean, reading allows me to be quiet. (My aunt works 3rd shift and has to grab sleep whene'er she can.)

For those that don't know me, I carry a goodly amount of extra poundage. At least 1/3 of that extra weight could be attributed to ice cream. Not chocolate. Not cookies or cake. Definitely not brownies. Ice cream. Smooth, sweet, refreshingly cool ice cream. *sssssiiiiigghhhhhhhh*

And there is nothing more disturbing to an individual intent on relaxing for the night with a good book than the sound of that demon of summer eves, that evil enchanter of the season... The Ice Cream Truck.

I can hear it at least a street over, because our a/c is dead, gone, passed away to wherever the working souls of air conditioners go when they decide they can't handle the friction any more, and our windows are open begging for a breeze. Its merry melody reaches my ears much the same way you see dogs tempted with smells in cartoons... the smoke-like whiff is the strain of the endlessly-repeating song, teasing and tickling my ears. It grows louder, stronger, and the child not very well submerged in me (I want the Spongebob popsicle, please!) pleads within to run out to the curb, waving my money. But I resist.

Especially since I don't have any cash. And - thank God - I sincerely doubt we've advanced so far into "The Mark of the Beast" technology as to have ice cream trucks fitted out to accept debit cards. (If I'm wrong, please do not tell me. They say ignorance is bliss and, in this case, it's probably about 10 pounds lighter, too.)

Still, that Presence that haunts the streets of suburbia in summertime is undeniably indelibly imprinted on the American psyche, calling to children of all ages and playing on the memories of the older ones of those long-ago, happy days... Calling, with its music; weaving its spell... But I say unto you: Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing! Beware the colorful dairy-product dispenser! Ignore the lure of the Pied Piper of Cellulite!

For I, aye, humble I, have uncovered the dastardly plot behind these traveling machines of early-onset obesity! Disassociate yourself from the sweet memory of turning your sunburned face up to the Ice Cream Man and asking for a Drumstick or a Strawberry Shortcake or a Rocket Popsicle. For he is not the friendly treat-bringer we've all been led to believe. He's a terrorist!

I know, I know, I found it hard to believe myself when I discovered the truth. It hurts, does it not? But, I beg of you, consider the facts:

Ice cream tastes good. Really good. Like, I'll-be-single-for-the-rest-of-my-life-because-I-can't-lose-weight-because-I-love-ice-cream-too-much-to-never-over-indulge-in-it-again good.
Anything that tastes good is bad for you. (I bet that fateful "apple" in Eden was delicious.)
Anything that's bad for you is easy to sell.
Anything that's easy to sell makes money.
Anything that makes money AND is bad for the general American public has got to be something terrorists really dig.
I'm generally two steps behind any money-making, health-threatening scheme, so somebody has to be already employing it.
Terrorists are a nice, ambiguous group of people to use as scapegoats.

Now, I ask you, how can you argue with my logic? It's as plain as day. You must buy your ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery.

My next in-depth report will cover my investigation of whether Ben & Jerry are really old hippies from Vermont or if they're really "Bin & Jihad." Stay tuned!

Heavy Heart

2006-08-09T09:05:00.000-04:00

There's No Place Like Home

"Now I know I have a heart... because it's breaking."
- The Tinman, Wizard of Oz

I've spent most of my life thinking God took FOREVER to do stuff. It's His timing, right? But sometimes things happen so quickly (usually to other people) that you're left breathless and befuddled. This is where I am now, a little dazed at the rapidity of how God has knocked down each barrier to the moving on of two of the most amazing people I know: Pastor Steve and Tricia. They are finally going "home" to the Pacific NW, where at least Tricia's heart has been for quite a while (indeed, did it ever leave?).

Of course, their hearts have been here too, as their dedication and integrity in ministry after ministry has shown. But while I am happy for them that this is finally happening for them, it's really hard to see them go. For as little as I've had the chance to see them in the last couple of years, knowing that my IHOP "conferences" with Tricia and the occasional dinner at their place (and soon at mine!) is coming to an end, it's heart-breaking. I hate how relationships have to change - because I know this one will. I'm sure we'll keep tabs on each other, but it's never the same. *deep sigh*

But... it's not about me. It's about God's glory, and the plans He has for each of us. We were in each other's lives for a reason (mostly, they were in my life as incredible mentors and friends), and now God expects us to move on, move forward, taking those experiences into the next ways He has for us to serve. And that is truly exciting.

So, Tricia and Pastor Steve, blessings to you as you continue your journey westward, homeward (aren't we all journeying homeward?), and your next big adventure. You have my love, prayers, a place to visit if you ever want to return to Ohio (no comments, please, Tricia! ha, ha), and a promise from me that somehow, someway, I will get out to see you eventually. (You can't get rid of me so easily!)

I love you both! (Oh, and Ian, too!) ;-)

Dreaming of The END

2006-08-01T17:18:00.000-04:00

Lame title, I know, but I couldn't think of anything else. I had a dream yesterday morning that really disoriented me for a good part of the morning.

I had hit the snooze button several times, and dozed off again right before that last-chance-to-get-up alarm went off. And the BFG must've been strolling by at that time and blew in a dream for what he must've considered a bad grown-up. Because I dreamed about gas.

Not the funny kind, with its myriad of goofy noises, noxious smells, and source of endless juvenile jokes... No, I mean gas. Fuel for your car.

This is not a typical dream subject for me. While I do often have vivid dreams about mundane things in bizaare situations, this seemed a little more than just a weird dream. So much so I had to blog it.

In my dream, I'm hanging out with three of my girlfriends from bible study, and at some point we end up at a gas station that is packed with cars. This is a station with several pumps and a large canopy over them all. As in a bar, there are large flat-screen TV's mounted to the tops of the pillars where they meet the canopy. The station is packed because gas prices are over $5.00 a gallon, and rapidly rising. There is a sense of panic and frustration in the air.

What is most disturbing about this dream is that on every TV is the same broadcast: a heavy-joweled middle-eastern man is announcing his intentions to raise barrel prices so high he "breaks America." He is basically declaring war on America by putting so much pressure on our economy through astronomical fuel prices.

The second-most disturbing part of this dream is the attitude at the pumps. I am trying to tell my friends and anyone else around me that now is the time we start changing our lifestyles - carpooling, etc. - but no one is listening. Instead, they are complaining and wondering what the government is going to do to fix this for them. They are frustrated and angry, but I feel alone, suddenly cold and surrounded by dark. By the time we leave the station, gas prices are over $7.00 a gallon.

Now, I know this is probably not feasible. I'm sure there are checks and balances to ensure that one or two individuals cannot effect such drastic changes so immediately. However, though I don't know how the oil industry works, the dream was still very real and very horrifying in its way. I'd rather not repeat it again.

Turtles, Cats, the Death Machine & Me

2006-07-24T07:57:00.000-04:00

** I started this post eons ago (try late May), and about a third of the way through, saved it as a draft. So about two-thirds of this is my grasping, flailing memory. Enjoy. **

I somehow have this whole Animal Planet theme going on in my life for the last week. Let me recount the incidents backwards in chronological order....

Incident #3: Is not really an incident, more of an extended conversation/encounter. My friend Stephanie and I took a road trip out to Shipshewana yesterday in the muggy, blazing heat. I will not bore you with the details of my mistaken ideas that the flea market was indoors like my beloved Trader's World or that there would be booths full of seconhand/antique furniture for bargain prices. It still was a good trip, and Stephanie and I had plenty of time to chat. She trains guide dogs for the disabled, her current one being a yellow lab named Cassidy (in addition to her own pet yellow lab, Boxer). So I quizzed her on general dog and lab knowledge, since I have been dying to get a chocolate lab for ages. Later that day, our group was at her house for our Memorial Day cookout, and I recollected tangibly just how much these wonderful dogs shed. Hmmm... a slight damper on my enthusiasm.

Incident #2: The Great Turtle Rescue of '06. This happened the day before Shipshewana, I think, and it was a caper of adorable proportions. My friend Sarah Bailey and I were on our way to Youngstown to pick up a great ebay find (yes, driving to Youngstown for pick-up was more fiscally-sensible than paying for the shipping, plus Sarah and I got to bond - and you cannot ignore the need for female bonding!). She met me at my dad's place and we headed out on the road. We got about a quarter of a mile when we saw him. Or her. (I'm not a turtle gender expert.) He/she/it was in the middle of the right lane, all greeny-brown and hell-bent on either getting smashed or getting across the road, whichever came first (most likely the smashed part). Now, this was a turtle, so you know "hell-bent" is a relative term.

In a fit of pathos, I made a u-ie (or is that u-ey?) and pulled over to the side of the road. I then ran out in the middle of traffic (ok, so I waited for the cars to pass) and, ignoring every "Oh, God, I hope it's not a snapping turtle!" and extra-girley inclination of "EW!", I grabbed it 'round the shell and hustled back over to the Trailblazer. Said turtle had done his turtley thing and gone into hiding. Not sure that I could drive and hold a turtle at the same time, I prevailed upon Sarah to hold it while I rushed back that whole quarter-mile to Dad's so we could deposit him near the pond. I felt empowered.

Incident #3: The Death Machine. After this incident, I waxed a little philosophical. But then I removed the waxy build-up, so I won't bore you with my meanderings here. (You'll have to steal my journal!)

Anywho, I came home from work a couple of evenings before The Great Turtle Rescue to find my sister's cat, Spot, sitting and staring intently into the grass. Normally Spot is right at your car door as soon as you open it, thanks to my aunt, so her behavior seemed a little odd. I approached the cat to see what was holding her interest so strongly, and startled the little-more-than-a-baby rabbit into hopping away. Which got Spot to bound playfully at it. Except Spot's version of playing usually ends up with a dead critter in Dad's garage.

Now, it's drizzling, and I've got my gigantic purse and my umbrella bogging me down. I also happen to like bunnies as well as turtles and dogs. So imagine me, laden with umbrella and heavy, giant purse, taking off after cat and rabbit. And when they stop, I catch up. And when I catch up, it scares the bunny again. This goes on for several minutes (Lord, thank you that my dad wasn't home to observe this) until bunny, cat, and (eventually) I reach the trees and underbrush on the other side of the drive. Bunny hops in, hoping for cover, followed by cat, followed by my frustrated admonishments towards Spot. After a few seconds, some rustling, some horrible crying that could only come from the rabbit, Spot saunters out with the bunny in its mouth.

I understand this is nature, folks. Some of you are laughing at me, but those cries of impending doom were heart-rending. And I hated fat, lazy Spot at that moment. Which I know is unfair - she was just being a cat, and is normally a very friendly, sweet one at that - but it's the truth.

Somehow I managed to do something that got Spot to drop the bunny (which seemed relatively unharmed), but didn't mangage to contain the cat. So we did our little hop-chase-jog back towards the underbrush. This time, however, I managed to grabbed Spot's tail and hold her back for a few moments, giving the rabbit a little time to make its get-away. While I know I didn't hurt Spot at all, I'm sure it annoyed her. It is to her credit that she didn't turn around and bite my hand, which I fully expected her to do.

So, I pressed the pause button on the Death Machine, and the bunny lived to die another day.

In Memory of Marcia R. Moore

2006-05-11T10:15:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the 15-year anniversary of my grandma's death from cancer. I still have moments when I miss her so much - like it all just happened, like it wasn't a decade and a half ago. Her death had a huge impact on my life, but her life (thankfully) even more so.

I wish so many of you could have known her. She was funny, and compassionate, and a bit of a rebel. But she taught me so much about loving God, and she truly trained me up "in the way I should go."

I've posted a couple of pictures. The first one is obviously Grandma in her youth - long before I was even thought of. :)

The second is her with her two middle boys - my dad (waving - look at those legs!) and my uncle Tom (with the goofy face). She had six kids all together - Dick, Bill, Jim (my dad), Tom, Rob, and Princess - that would be my aunt Lou. It was a rough life, but she was an amazing woman.

I think I get my wanderlust, sense of fun, and creativity largely from her. Thanks, Grandma.

And here's one of the poems I wrote about her after her death. Forgive me, but it's a little depressing. Also forgive me, because this is actually one of my better ones. (Yeah, so you can see why I don't really write poetry any more!)

1924 - 1991
Your legacy is a cold marble stone
with your name and a couple of dates,
as if you were only sixty-seven years
from here - to there.
Some might say you were
like a rock, like this
slab we placed as a
monument to your death?
Even the flowers I
brought you don't fit.
I'm missing a few pieces still -
this puzzle - because I
don't understand.

I thought this would be a milestone -
coming here -
but it's only a gravestone.
We gave you a park, some flowers,
a few companions, and a
rock to mark your unresting place.
I'm not happy with this arrangement -
it's all cut-and-dried.
I'm not God, or cancer, or time,
and I don't decide.
Not how any of us plan these things -
this death - because we
don't understand.

If I could have my way...
but tradition doesn't listen.
And if I were in the business of making
symbols, I would have thrown away
this stone.
This stone for this seed I plant.
So small, so helpless, it will take
root and grow - forever -
live wrapped around and
in you, like a memory.
But I am forbidden -
this seed - to
understand.

Ode to Michael Gray, 2004 - 2006

2006-05-08T09:07:00.000-04:00

I was going to wait until Friday to post this, since that's MPG's last day, but I feel like doing it now (read: I don't feel like doing the work I should be doing). So here goes....

For Michael, my cubemate, cohort, and all-around favorite ho (or is that hoe?)... anyway, I just wanted to say I'm going to miss ya. Yes, your sarcasm is brutal and you've made me cry so many times I've lost count, but for as many bruises and cuts you've inflicted, you've made me laugh 3 times as much. And God knows, we need that around here.

Good luck, God bless, happy trails to you. I'm gonna miss sharing laughs of derision with you.

Another Profundity w/ Expletive

2006-05-08T08:40:00.000-04:00

I know, this is copping out. I should be posting about how I think we've found THE HOUSE we want. Or maybe how school is winding up and I'm waaaaayyy behind on my last project. Or how this allergy season is kicking my butt and I feel so miserable, I want to claw my eyes out. Or maybe I just post an obnoxious plea for you (yes, YOU) to respond to that email I sent you about IKEA coming to Canton, MI, because if you sign up under me then I get points. And the more points I get, the closer I get to becoming an IKEA Tokig, which gives me priveleges at the store. And since I lost everything I own in a terrible fire *sniffle* I can use all the help I can get to replace it. Especially with affordable, economical IKEA. (There, was that obnoxious enough?) Ha!

But what I'm really writing about is this quote I found through the blog of a blog (you know how that goes). And this is actually a quote, but it includes the s-word. Twice. OOOHHHH... I warned ya! This is from Tony Campolo, a man who Pastor Mike just yesterday said he admired. How's that for justification, baby?

"'Tens of thousands of children died last night because of poverty related issues and we don't give a shit.'

"After a brief moment of silence he continues.

"'What's disturbing to me is that just now, in that brief moment of silence, more of you were concerned with the fact that I said the word shit than with the fact that tens of thousands of children died last night.'"

And if you're interested, I found that quote through this post, which in turn was found through this post. But I didn't bother reading through all the comments at the bottom.

Profundity For the Day

2006-04-06T14:55:00.000-04:00

Since I'm simple-minded, it's easy for me to find things profound. Like this sentence from a really good post on Dry Bones Dance:

"When you come to face God, would you rather explain your excess of mercy or excess of judgment?"

What about you? God, I hope I have to explain mercy.

Naughty Can Be Nice

2006-04-06T13:09:00.000-04:00

OK, so we have this new girl in the office, and her name's Candy. Candy is great, because she's the Administrative Support person for some of the bigwigs and our sales team, which takes a lot of "not-even-remotely-connected-to-marketing" type of work off of me. Candy is also great because she supplies us with... you guessed it!... candy. Namely, chocolate. And not cheap stuff either. Nestled all red and blue in her jar is a pleasing pile of solid Dove chocolates. Not Godiva, but better than M&M's and Hershey's.

Now, a couple of weeks ago, Michael (my marketing cohort, since Adam has his home office in St. Louis now) was all a-twitter. He prefers the red-wrapped Doves, as they are the dark kind (very fitting, if you know Michael), and he had received some interesting messages in the wrappers. Meanwhile, I'm a milk-chocolate kind of gal (yes, I'm vanilla to the core) and my messages were rather banal sayings, such as "It's definitely a bubble-bath day," and "Keep the promises you make to yourself." Michael lorded it over me that the dark chocolate had the better messages, like "Be mischievous. It feels good," and "You're allowed to do nothing." (As if the marketing department needs permission!)

Well, I had to break Michael's heart. Yesterday, I got a message he'd gotten before, the title of this blog post. Then, in a chocoholic binge, I snuck another blue one. Same message. That was it for the day. But, as an after-lunch treat, I had another one today. Now, for the third time in a row in two days I've been told that "Naughty can be nice."

Now, I'm not paranoid or anything, but with all the grubby little fingers getting into Candy's candy jar, what are the odds that I'd be the one person to grab three milk chocolates that have identical sayings? Hmmm? Is this some kind of message? Am I being given permission to misbehave?

Happy 30th, Tana!

2006-03-07T14:28:00.000-05:00

My friend Tana is celebrating her 30th birthday today. "May your fires of love never die, may your homelight always cheer you, may your family forever bring you joy, and may you ever surrounded by friends willing to get drunk with you."

It's an Irish blessing. Because I'm Irish. And it mentions drinkin'!

Happy birthday, my friend. Have fun this week!

Nice People

2006-02-25T23:48:00.000-05:00

Enough whining about me. Let's whine about something else!

Just kidding. While this is fire-related and me-related, it isn't actually whining. Just time for observation.

People have been so nice. (And I'm thankful, trust me.) Not just everyday polite, but nice. It's as if everyone thinks before they react to me. There's a little mental neon sign somewhere in their head that says, "Don't respond like usual. This person deserves a little TLC right now." This attitude is most apparent at work, because it's hard to tell at church where everyone's already expected to be all lovey-dovey, and especially at a new church when you're still meeting people for the first time and they all want to make a good impression.

Now, please don't get me wrong. I work with really great people. But it's a job. We work together 40+ hours a week. We can rub each other the wrong way. Our priorities and personalities differ and there's plenty of drama from day-to-day. So we get irritated when someone interrupts a project or asks too many questions or disagrees with the way we want to do something. It's human nature.

But somehow, human nature is put on hold when there's a problem in someone's life. This is where it comes to me, not because I happen to be the one with the "tragedy" right now, but because I'm guilty of this behavior, too. Maybe more than anyone else.

B's brother died of cancer last year, so I was extra-considerate and accommodating if she needed anything from me. Speaking of cancer, J just successfully defeated breast cancer. Yay for her, and I made sure to help her with some of her projects while she was here at work during that difficult time (we normally don't cross paths). D just got through a major surgery and we're all concerned about how he's doing. I'm sure when he returns to work we'll do everything we can to make things easier on him. For a while at least.

I'm noticing the same consideration for me. The witty people are still witty, just not so bitingly at my expense. People are more patient, more willing to get what I need when I need it. There's a flexibility with me needing to cut into work time for personal things that normally wouldn't exist if it was a more mundane situation.

This is grace, I suppose, in all the little ways we don't usually afford it to each other. And it's not that I'm finding fault with the way people typically treat me. Not at all. It just has me wondering why something negative needs to happen personally to someone for us to give each other this grace. It doesn't seem to cause any extra stress. In fact, this mutual understanding people around a "tragic figure" have about treating that figure appears to unify them and change the atmosphere. It breaks into our normal behaviors and softens us, allowing us to show a tender side in a place where tender often means weak.

So this is both a wonderful thing that's happening around me - this proven capability to emerge from relational stupor to grace - and it's also a little sad. Because at some point, the crisis will be over and it will be back to "business as usual" until the next problem. God, please let me learn this lesson, to always treat others with the patience and kindness you've called me to, and not with the less graceful attitude I often choose.

The On-Going Battle

2006-02-22T11:34:00.000-05:00

OK, let's get something straight: It's not just "stuff" I lost in the fire. And I'm not referring to any personal, sentimental attachment to inanimate objects like teddy bears and creative writing and dog-eared books.

I lost quite a few plans and dreams. I just turned 30, and I had finally developed a sense of myself. I finally had some 5-year plans. I finally came to grips with the real possibility I will be single for the rest of my life and I needed to live it, not keep it on hold. I wanted to get out of debt, get my own house, get my education. I finally had confidence that I could do it. I finally had a life - things to do, friends to hang out with, goals to reach.

My life has been hi-jacked. Everything's on hold, or simply gone. The money I had just received (and it wasn't that much, so don't get excited), the money I was going to use to invest in a part-time business, get that software I needed to do the freelance projects people are asking me to do, that I was going to set aside for future college expenses, that I would finally have as a "cushion" or that emergency fund all those money experts recommend - all that is now going to be sucked into this black hole that used to be my life. To try to fix it. And it still won't be enough.

So I'm now in this constant struggle. Temper-tantrums and mourning for myself - my plans, my stuff, my life - versus the sacrifice and humility I know I'm called to. I want to be that uber-spiritual person who constantly walks in the recognition that all I considered mine was a gift from God, that this is actually a wonderful opportunity at a fresh start. And sometimes I do feel A-OK about it. But not most of the time.

Pray for me. Pray that I make the most of this time - not by playing off people's sympathies, but by seizing the attitude that the God I serve is bigger than this and, in fact, this may be just the chance I've been asking for to lose my materialism and selfishness. Because I'm not doing too well with that right now.

Peace... or Shell-Shock?

2006-02-21T07:36:00.000-05:00

It's been just over 2 weeks since the fire. All this time, with some exceptions, I have been able to just do the trusting God thing. I have talked about that "peace that passes all understanding, guarding my heart and my mind." Until this weekend, especially Sunday and Monday. I haven't really had a good cry even yet, but there's more anger than before and the tears come easier and faster than before.

So where's that peace now? I'm back in a good mood today, but moods are moods. I'm mature enough to realize that. What happens when I'm struck again with remembering something I lost and can't get back, not like it was before? When the anger and tears bubble up and I'm tired of putting on a happy face? Does God's peace disappear? Was it there to begin with, or was I just shell-shocked and reality's setting in now? And if that is true and I didn't have His peace, where does that leave me - deluded about God or deluded about my relationship with Him?

Good questions or semantics? Hmmm...

But this is what I am left with: analyzing my feelings. Trying to probe beyond moods, but still trapped within myself. So let's move beyond me to the facts.

Fact #1: My aunt is alive, even though she was asleep when the fire started, even though she can be a heavy sleeper. She still heard the pounding on the door and the people yelling, though her room is at the other end of the condo and her door was closed, and she ignored her instincts to ignore it (which usually would have been right, a good clue as to what kind of place we were living in). She got up, against her desire to roll over (again!) and go back to sleep to check out what was going on.

Fact #2: I am alive. This does not seem to be as big a deal, since I'm usually all over the place on Monday nights (and Tuesday nights, and Wednesday nights, and....). But it's still a fact.

Fact #3: No one else was killed. Someone was treated for serious burns (the guy in whose unit the fire started) and some pets were lost, but for a fire that destroyed 16 units and cost $2 million in damage, it is amazing no one lost their lives.

Fact #4: Our most precious possessions, the family photo albums, were salvaged. This is big for me, and while I miss many other things that are definitely gone, absolutely nothing could replace those pictures. I snuck up the burnt and crumbling stairs this last Saturday to see the condo for myself. I saw the desk these photos were stored in. This is really is a big deal.

Fact #5: People are so amazing. I could never have expected the response from so many people, especially so many I don't know. The immediate outpouring from the community towards the victims and the generosity of all kinds of folks from all kinds of places (friends, family, and 2nd-hand and 3rd-hand parties) just toward Lou and myself is astounding. And it's still coming in (and it is still hugely needed - shameless plug!).

Fact #6: Past experience. There is a certainty at all times, beyond moods and feelings, that lies underneath. A foundational, personal knowledge of God's goodness. I would be the most horrible liar if I were to deny everything else I've been through to say I can't trust God to see me blessed at the "end" of all this. This is way past being "Oh, everything'll turn out in the end." I'm not going to share my life story here, but I have seen His providence proved too many times to play dumb. This certainty is a quiet voice that nags, if you will, whenever I doubt. It always brings me back around. Always.

Of course, fact #6 brings us back to me. (It's always about me, didn't you know that? ;) ) But unless you have that same rock-solid underlying knowledge, I guess you can't understand it. I just know it as a fact, not an opinion.

I may be missing something here. Philosophical argument, while fascinating to me, is not exactly my forte. So feel free to contribute your 2 cents.

Tracks

2006-02-14T06:23:00.000-05:00

I am sitting in front of the train tracks in my car, thinking of all that's happened in the last week. I am on my way back to my dad's house from Don and Tana's, which has been a relieving distraction. It's after 12:30 am Saturday morning, and I am tired - mentally and emotionally drained - and a little resentful of this train that is keeping me from a much-needed appointment with bed and sleep.

Staring at the tracks, the wheels seem to go by in a patterned blur. Thankfully, the train is going by very fast, and I look up at the train itself to see the individual cars speeding past. Except that when I look from the track to the train, the train doesn't seem to be moving as quickly. The cars differ enough from each other that my eyes follow them better. My focus has shifted.

It is late, and I am in a contemplative mood. So I begin to wonder about the metaphor I am witnessing here, letting my eyes shift from train to track, track to train, slow to fast, fast to slow. I think about this week, and my own radical shift in focus. I think about all the plans I had before the fire, and how they have all changed.

I look again at the track, and I think of how I had seen my life laid out with all my desires for the future and my plans to make them come true. I see the wheels as my daily routine, my comfortable, familiar routine of actions and behaviors that kept me speeding along.

Then I move my eyes and switch my focus. I see the cars carrying the full weight of my daily routine. I see them one by one, passing slower yet somehow at the same speed. I am able to count them. I can see the different colors, the shapes, the graffiti, even the empty trailers. I notice each car for itself, wondering at its purpose.

My life feels like it has been derailed now. I have no routine. My plans have changed. There is no pattern. I have been forced to refocus, to live moment-by-moment and wonder at its purpose, noticing things I could never see before and caring about things that seemed mundane or irrelevant before.

All my plans have burned away, and I am becoming thankful for each day as it happens.

Beauty From Ashes...

2006-02-10T17:04:00.000-05:00

It is an arresting sight - the charred, icy rubble spread out around the skeleton of my former home. Everyone who walks or drives by has no choice but to stare, transfixed, at a building that used to house 16 families but is now condemned and will soon be scheduled for demolition. I park as close as possible but avoid my old carport spot, now littered with pine cones, needles, clumps of mud and other debris. I grab the disposable camera and hurriedly duck under the yellow tape, snapping pictures almost immediately. The light is fading, and I don't want to get kicked out before I finish.

Of course, I am most interested in seeing what I can of my old condo unit, and the same temptation to ignore the rules, risk my safety and climb the stairs grips me as it did earlier in the day . . .

[Earlier.] I am standing on a pile of burnt wood, broken glass, and God knows what else, just inside what's left of the doors to my section of building B. I am at the foot of the stairs I had climbed so often before. The walls are black in most places, and the handrail has gone from gray to rust. The stairs are charred and crumbling. It is cold and the wind is blowing flakes of ash down into my hair and onto my clothes, like a flurry of dirty snow.

I am standing in a place I took for granted as just being there, now grateful simply for my aunt's life. Except for the clothes I was wearing Monday and the items in my car, everything I used to call mine is gone. Up in smoke. This is funny in its morbidly humorous way, and I am also grateful for the ability to smile. My aunt and I have been given an uncomprehensible peace and a sense of humor almost immediately. We have lost track of how many different variations of, "I know you wanted to _____, but you didn't have to torch the place," we have told each other.

My aunt was standing behind me, talking to neighbors who are also waiting to see what's salvagable of their past, but she has gone back to the clubhouse where it's warm. I am waiting, grateful but anxious. Despite being told several times there is absolutely nothing left, I know that what I really want has survived. It had to. And while I appreciate these men risking their safety to look around on my behalf (they won't let me up), I know no one cares like I do. I am tempted to rush up the stairs and look for myself. So I am surprised by my surprise when the association president comes gingerly down the steps to hand me my first meager handful of what's left in my old desk. It is just a pack of colored pencils and cheap art supplies, but it is mine. More gratefulness, especially when another neighbor offers a black garbage bag to put my armful in.

We all laugh when he carries down a muffin pan which has braved the fire - probably because it was wasting away stored in a closet! It is our memento that not everything we had was useful to us, a reminder to us in the future that all the things we could own may not be worth owning.

A few more minutes, and another careful trip down the stairs. This time, he's got more of what I'm looking for - a photo album and a few loose photos. I keep repeating my thanks. He asks if there's anything more, as the bottom drawer of my desk is blocked by a bunch of debris and it will take a bit of work to access it. I say yes, knowing the contents of that drawer and praying it's made it through as well as the other things. And ten long minutes later, when he's holding my grandmother and great-grandmother's photo albums out to me, I can't help but get teary-eyed. I can't thank them enough, and I tell them so. The albums are sopping wet, and I hope they're not damaged beyond repair, but just holding them in my arms means so much.

So now, all that's left of the belongings in my home is in a garbage bag. It's heavy, and I struggle to carry it to the clubhouse, but I am excited to see the look on my aunt's face when she sees its contents. I feel vindicated for insisting on trying to find it, but also very humbled that God has shown us this favor. When my aunt casually asks what's in the bag (flashback: Dorothy asking the Wizard, "I don't suppose you've got anything in that black bag for me"), I am happy to see her eyes also tear up when I pull out the albums and we discover together that the photos inside have survived.

I am still struggling to let go of my stuff, reminding myself that even photos aren't eternal, that in the end even they don't matter. I am still struggling to learn to be bold in asking for help without guilt or shame. I am still struggling with adjusting to living in someone else's space, abiding by their routines and rules, reminding myself of my Savior who had "no place to lay his head." I can share this with Him - all of it, even the anger and frustration - and He will continue to give me His peace.

And that is beautiful.

A Year Ago Today...

2006-02-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

A year ago today, Paul Carl Kirsch passed away as he had lived - gently, quietly - in his little home along Lake Erie on the outskirts of Cleveland. My great uncle Paul, proud World War II veteran, traveler, gentleman, avid reader, art and history aficionado, and lover of Christmas. After several chronic illnesses in the last few years, prostate cancer and spinal stenosis to name a couple, he died from respiratory failure while lying in a hospital bed in his former living room, surrounded by just some of the hundreds, most likely thousands, of books he had collected in his 88 years.

I wish I could say I got my love of learning and literature from him. I wish I could say that his genuine appreciation of art had translated into my small talent in design. But we were not blood relations, my mom and her twin sister having been adopted by his sister and brother-in-law.

I do know I can say he made Christmas more special whenever I had the chance to see him around the holidays. I know I want to develop his same keen interest in so many subjects, to become the fascinating and well-rounded individual he was. And I know the world needs more gentlemen of his caliber.

I miss Uncle Paul. I regret I did not make the time to see him more often. I regret I never finished the letter I started to write him because I know he would have loved it. I regret I never really let him know how much I admired him and enjoyed him. Thankfully, I know I will be reunited with him eventually, in whatever form heaven really is, and we will worship the God we both loved on this side.

So here, for the seaman he was when he served our country and for the lover of literature he remained until his death a year ago today...

Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
- Lord Alfred Tennyson

Sisterhood of the Traveling Plate

2006-01-26T22:37:00.000-05:00

What can I say? My friends are brilliant, creative people. Kudos this time to Tana for her nifty take on helping the girls in our little group to connect through - what else? - food!

After watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, we were discussing the movie. For those not in the know, the movie is based the book by the same name, which is about a group of girls who've grown up as friends and their first summer apart. The day before they all split up, they're shopping in a second-hand clothing store and find a pair of jeans that magically fits them all, even though they're different heights, sizes and shapes. They decide to form The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and use the jeans to stay connected by forming a set of rules and sending the jeans to one another along with letters about what's going on with them.

Myself, I wished for The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bra (which would have to be magic to fit all the girls in the group I was with!), but that got laughed off. Wonder why...

Well, we kinda forgot about it. All of us except Tana. She took an orphaned plate nobody had claimed after a pot luck and decided to create The Sisterhood of the Traveling Plate. She created rules and set it in motion last Friday night, which is our new "Girls' Night" (postponed for this week). This Plate Sisterhood will allow us to share, taste and learn new recipes and give each other a pass-it-on kind of gift. The dish she made for Nancy to kick the Sisterhood off really looked yummy!

Tana was afraid we'd think she is a dork, but we love it. Good job, Tana! And if you're interested in duplicating the idea, she might be persuaded to share the Rules with us. C'mon, Tana!

Rather Be Trinity...

2006-01-21T20:48:00.000-05:00

But this is close enough. I got this off of Anthony's Xanga site.

You scored as Neo, the "One". Neo is the computer hacker-turned-Messiah of the Matrix. He leads a small group of human rebels against the technology that controls them. Neo doubts his ability to lead but doesn't want to disappoint his friends. His goal is for a world where all men know the Truth and are free from the bonds of the Matrix.
Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

Birthday Flowers from Boo

2006-01-19T11:53:00.000-05:00

My aunt sent me these flowers from Ken's Flower Shops, where I used to work. Aren't they gorgeous?! It has a lot of my favorite flowers in it. Good job, Boo!

I had wonderful times with friends and family on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights, but had to work and go to school yesterday. *snooze* So getting these beauties really made my day, which was pretty ordinary! A couple of friends at work also got me some little gifts, and another took me out to lunch Tuesday. (Thanks, Janice, Beth & Karen!)

I'll get to hang out with more friends on Friday night, and I'm looking forward to relaxing on Saturday after class. Tonight - I go to bed early!

Thanks to everyone who's wished me a happy 30th. I've enjoyed it!

As Time Goes By - Part II

2006-01-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

Hmmm... you can see consistency is not a strength of mine. That would be one of my goals this year. :)

Well, today is the day after my 30th birthday. Wow - three decades! I'm now in my 31st year of life. I've learned a lot - some of which is still being beaten into my brain - but I have so much more to learn. So, with a strong invitation (consider this arm-twisting) to comment with what you've learned, I thought I'd post...

10 Things I've Learned in the Last 30 Years:

Don't lie to your parents - you need their trust. As tempted as you may be to "cover up" your disobedience, stupidity, etc., nothing breaks their heart more than if you disregard their intelligence, their love for you, and their hope in you. Don't build that wall.
Not everbody will like you, and that's a good thing. This has been a hard thing to learn - that not all rejection is bad. But I eventually realized some people's values are so completely different than mine, I am glad I'm not buddy-buddy with them. While you should always treat people with dignity, not everyone deserves your respect... just don't judge that right away. ;)
God isn't interested in making sure you're comfortable with your circumstances. In fact, He allows quite a bit of discomfort simply to either wake us up or keep us awake. Get over it, because you're too wrapped up in yourself and you're missing what God wants to share with you right now. As someone very dear and important to me wrote me recently while I was in a "crisis" of my own, "There's an invitation to look in a different direction . . . . It is the place of identification with the Savior whom you follow." This is the way of faith. Don't pass up the sweetness of sharing something with God for the despair of self-pity. Been there, done that.
God's holiness is firm enough to build on, and His grace is fluid enough to float you for however long you need it. Actually, God's grace is wider than I'm comfortable with, as He seems to continually push against the boundaries I set for Him. "No, God, that person is sinning. I know I need to love them, but they should know my theology regarding the choices in their life, just so they understand what a wonderful Christian I am - that I can love them despite what I believe about their choices." Yeah, rrrrright. Since God's grace is so fluid, the waters are rough - at least for me. Thankfully, that same grace hasn't let me drown.
Projects will nearly always take longer than you estimate. But that doesn't stop me from underestimating them all the time! :-o
Believe it or not, not everyone has the same priorities as you. This will cause conflicts. It makes it harder for everyone to stay on the same page. Sometimes you have to be assertive to get something done. And quite often you may need to adjust your own priorities, so be flexible.
Even the stupidest, or the most annoying, or the ugliest, or the most offensive, or the smelliest person you meet has the spark of God in them. They have emotions. They have a brain (yes, they really do). They're alive, so they have experiences. And you need to give them a chance. They may have a story you need to hear. They may have an idea that's better than yours. Or they may need you.
It's OK to say no. It's OK to say it in church, at work, at home, or out with friends. No can save your bum, it can save you from burn-out, and it can save you from hurting others. Make sure you set personal priorities, and stick with them! Stick with them by evaluating all the activities and projects that pop up in light of those priorities. Which is closely tied to...
You don't have to be everything to everybody. That's God's job. The Maker of All Things made you to be you for His purpose. Not your parents', not your significant other's, not your children's, not your boss's, not your best friend's. You are not responsible for any one person's entire happiness, just like...
No one is responsible for your happiness, not even God. Happiness is an attitude of choice. You don't have to be Tigger all the time, but give the Eeyore act a break. The more you choose to accept responsibility and savor your experiences, the more you'll enjoy your life. And the more you enjoy your life, the more attractive you'll be. People will want to be around you, and you'll learn a lot more through their experiences.....

Hope you found something in there to bless ya. I would love to hear some feedback!

As Time Goes By - Part I

2005-12-16T12:26:00.000-05:00

(Reprised from an email sent a year ago. I'm not feeling too "writable" right now.)

Hallo, all. I have been thinking all day of something creative and original to write to grab your interest and get you hooked into reading this [blog]. Ready? Here it is... (Remember, it's incredibly original.) Drum roll, please...

"My, how time does fly!"

I trust you are appropriately bowled over by my ability to express my thoughts so well in words. While you catch your breath, I shall continue with why I am sharing this profound and personal observation.

See, I'm thinking our lives are strings, one of those rolls of twine they wrap around cheap cardboard tubes. (Yes, I already thought about using toilet paper as a metaphor. No thanks, guys.) The more we live - the more the string is played out - the faster it unravels from the roll. Are you gettin' me, friends? In my [nearly 30] years, I have never felt the passage of time like I have felt it lately. How my "routine" - of days, of weeks - are spinning my life out beyond my control. I am unstrung faster than I can catch up with what I'm being used for. I mean - it's all good stuff, right? My string, my life, is being used to connect people and ideas and hopes together - right? Or am I simply binding, restraining, tangling? Am I used in wrapping up special presents for giving, or am I cheap material for packages with no signifigance?

Of course, it's a mixture (at the very least, I hope so!). But trying to evaluate which activity, which conversation, or which relationship is impacting eternity positively and which of these is not is incredibly wearying and frustrating. Like I said, I can't keep up. Just when I think things will slow down, they speed up. Just when I "figured it out," it changes. Can I get an "Amen"?

That's why I'm thankful when I'm reminded that nowhere in God's Word does it say, "Thou shalt fill thy days with hectic scheduling, and complete thy years with church busyness. Measure thy holiness by the fullness of thy calendar." That's why I'm thankful that it does say, "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness.... do not worry about tomorrow..." (Matthew 6:33-34), and, "Be still and know that I am God..." (Psalm 46:10).

I would love to hear your thoughts on this. (Hint, hint.)

Jesus Talks with Hitler

2005-10-12T11:56:00.000-04:00

Yay! I finally got my copy of Ravi Zacharias's The Lamb and the Fuhrer: Jesus Talks with Hitler today. It's been on back-order since August. I've loved the two other little "Jesus talks with..." books he's done, and this one promises to be very interesting. I consider Zacharias the contemporary CS Lewis, whose writing I love. After dipping into Mere Christianity for my first post here, I realized I need to read it once again.

In looking back at Monday's post, I realize some of it sounds harsh. So I plan on writing more to clarify those feelings and the thoughts that have been on my mind since then. I also plan on writing at least one blog about vulnerability. That's been echoing up there lately.

Just one last word for now. I read this in one of those email forwards, and it just seemed to stand out: "Love people and use things - don't love things and use people." Thought it was a good thing to meditate on.

And if anybody's reading this, don't forget to check out the links and other blogs I've listed to the right. Thanks to Sarah Parker's blog, Going Bananas, I found this. If you want, you can subscribe to this blog to be notified by email when I update it. Just use the easy little form to the right!

Borderline Heretic?

2005-10-10T21:32:00.000-04:00

These past couple weeks were very difficult for me, especially emotionally. I've been involved in a women's study on the book Captivating by John & Stasi Eldredge, and it's brought up a lot of issues for me. Like I really need help being hyper-sensitive in the "am I worthy/beautiful" department. So all those undercurrents are moving, then add to that the stuff going on at church, then add to that the "shock" I received last Monday night... up and down, up and down. I don't know where I'd be if I wasn't saturated with God's grace right now.

Let me focus on the feelings the book drags up repeatedly. Most of them aren't new - in fact, a good deal of them are thoughts I try to get rid of, which I realize is the point of the book. It's just so... so freaking frustrating for me that I'm not jumping ahead to the "fix-it" chapters, because you know they're there. Just about all contemporary Christian non-fiction is focused on the "fix-it" aspect. Not that it's worked on me yet!

So these thoughts and feelings - mainly negative and mainly directed towards me - are swirling around. Here's what I found myself writing out Saturday, which led to a good cry and a looong nap.

"I have spent my whole life waiting for someone to come along who wants to know me, who would say, 'Amanda, you're worth pursuing. You're worth me making you a priority in my life. You're worth knowing completey, even the fears and thoughts that haunt you and why they're there. You're worth me spending myself to love you and do everything you're willing to let me do to heal you.'

"This is what Christ has offered to me. This is what He's already done for me to prove His love. This is what He is saying to me everyday.

"So why do I still want someone else to say these things? Is Christ not enough? That aching void He created in me to draw me to Him - no one has filled it. No one's even come close. And to be starkly honest, I don't believe anyone has ever wanted to. My parents failed me, my friends failed me, my mentors and teachers failed me. I am still bereft."

I suppose this is where God wants me to be - knowing that I must always turn to Him for what I cannot receive anywhere else. Why do I struggle so much with allowing myself to be completely dependant on God, yet I annoy the crap out of people with my neediness? How I envy all of you who don't give a rat's patootie about whether or not people care about you! What is your secret? Why did God leave that ingredient out when he made me - that ability to not need anyone else to validate my worth? *sigh*

OK, so about now the Reason Police are pounding on the door, trying to break up the Pity Party I'm having with myself. But that's a whole 'nother blog.

Cheating & A Diary Entry

2005-10-09T22:14:00.000-04:00

In order to keep this blog going but not having my thoughts clear enough to transcribe for public viewing, I am going to cheat by sharing an entry from my diary. Hey, it's my blog and I'll do what I want to!

10:42 PM, 4/13/05

I am reading Something More by Catherine Marshall again - it's one of the books I try to cycle through my reading list because it's packed with so much that refreshes and instructs me. Anyway, I'm in Chapter 2, "The Golden Bridge of Praise," and I realized I am trying to pull a Pollyanna act on God. I am praising Him for the possible positives of the difficult situations in my life. While that may sound somewhat commendable (and it certainly had me duped), I see I am, in effect, short-circuiting the pupose and power of praise.

See, by trying to look at the good side of a negative thing, I am, in essence, just trying once more to figure out why and how. Why God might allow such-and-such to happen; and how I might see it changed or it become a blessing later on. However, the purpose (and as such, the power) of praise is the sacrifice of it - letting the situation go.

It's amazing to me how easily I can deceive myself. But the beautiful thing is, if I put real praise into action, it's so much simpler. Restful. Even joyful. Lord God, You are so wonderful!

A Little Statement of Purpose

2005-10-08T20:44:00.000-04:00

I have been thinking about resuming this blog for quite some time.

"Resuming?" you ask. "But there's nothing beyond this - you've never posted before!"

Ah, but I have. Three times in the spring and summer of 2004. Then I let it die, as this just might. (I gave you a fair warning!) I deleted those posts, not because they were terrible or anything (and yet, they were not as I remembered them - those of you who write probably understand that), but just because they would be too disconnected with what I want to focus on.

"And just what is that, Amanda?" you continue to prod. "You're beginning to ramble."

Well, you'd best get used to that right away - rambling, that is. I do it when I talk, certainly, and I'm afraid I do it when I write, something I defenitely need to work on. So, with that said...

Everlasting Splendors refers to one of my favorite CS Lewis quotes (and there are many) from his published lecture on The Weight of Glory, which you can find in a book by the same name. Towards the end, CS Lewis writes, "It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors."

There is more, and it is excellent. He mentions a similar thought in Mere Christianity when he talks about men becoming more hellish or heavenly with each twist and turn of their choices. Towards the end of the book is a chapter titled "Nice People or New Men" in which he discusses the question, "If Christianity is true why are not all Christians obviously nicer than all non-Christians?" The point of it is this: Niceness was not all God was concerned about when He sent Christ into the world. Niceness is not the measuring stick. Or, to put a more contemporary label on it, political correctness and tolerance are not the measuring sticks. Those of us who recognize Christ as Savior are not concerned with becoming unoffensive, pleasant people. What is critical is that we become new people, with the eventual side-effect of true compassion and kindness. (More on this another time.)

So here I am, writing about my journey on becoming a "new man." Or, if you prefer, a "new A-man-da." (Go ahead and groan.) And the same fact both complicates this process and liberates me: God is not Who I thought He was. As I search for Him, I discover more and more each day He beyond my ability to define.

Join me if you'd like. I suppose I might enter some deep waters and find myself drowning, but if it is in God, so be it. At lease I will not be in the shallow end any longer.