Sharing

Sometimes we think of sharing as something that will divide and diminish the object or experience we are sharing. But some things just aren't any fun unless they are shared. As I previously mentioned, I have started watching movies on a regular basis. Since I live alone, this is generally a solitary experience. I don't mind this at all. I get to decide what I want to watch, when I want to watch it.
But some movies need to be shared to be fully experienced. I took my mom to see Evan Almighty this weekend. Nice movie, great themes I completely support seeing on the big screen, maybe not quite as funny as Bruce Almighty. Even though it was a good movie, I would not have spent the time & money to go see it were it not for the fact that I knew Mom would enjoy watching it as well.
Relationships are like that, I might not particularly like something, but I like that you like it. And that makes the experience worthwhile. Mom & I both happened to like this movie, but there have been plenty of times I have seen movies with my brother that I wasn't really fond of, but I did appreciate that he enjoyed the experience. He might even tell you the same thing is true for him.

Current Read: The Old Man and The Sea, Ernest Hemingway
Current Music: Lord of the Rings Soundtrack

Top Ten Tuesday

Well, I don't usually stick with any one routine for very long, but I figure I might as well play with this Tuesday top ten idea for a while. Last week I shared the movies on my Netflix queue. In thouroughly modern fashion, I suppose I should follow up with the top 10 songs on my iPod.
Keep in mind these are the top 10 most played songs on my iPod, and the last several months were a little on the dark & difficult side. My song list isn't usually this monochromatic, nor this depressing. It'll be interesting to see what the top 10 most played songs on my iPod are six months from now.

1. How to Save A Life, The Fray
2. Something Beautiful, Jars of Clay
3. Silence, Jars of Clay
4. These Ordinary Days, Jars of Clay
5. Window in the Skies, U2
6. Hands, Jewel
7. Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own, U2
8. Pride (In the Name of Love), U2
9. Home, Rich Mullins
10. Because of This, MercyMe

Questions & Cicadas

I don't know about you, but sometimes I find myself with a lot of questions I'd like God to answer. Some of them are quite serious, and some of them are more for the sake of curiosity.
For example, our finite brains have a hard time conceptualizing what heaven will be like. Recently, I read something on this subject in a collection of Ralph Waldo Emerson's letters and essays. He was lamenting the fact that his "to be read pile" of books never seems to get smaller. So he wondered if, when when we get to heaven, we will have access to all the material we hadn't read in our lifetimes. I think this question goes to the top of my list of questions for God.
One of my longstanding questions is about cherries. I understand that part of the magnificence of God's creation is the variety. And I understand that he made each of us different, so that the things you enjoy might not be the things I enjoy. So if you like palm trees or lima beans, I can appreciate that even if palm trees or lima beans don't thrill me. What I can't understand is cherries. I know there are plenty of you out there who think cherries are perfectly lovely. But I don't get it. The whole concept of cherries being something other than a consequence of original sin and the fall of man is a mystery to me. So my next question is about cherries.
Then there's the cicadas. Have you seen these things? They are ugly. Some of the creatures on this earth are a little odd. Some, like perhaps the cockroach, are downright unattractive. But the cicada is hideous. And they only get to come out from underground every 17 years so they can... ummm... mate. These poor bugs have it worse than the penguins. Yeah, I need to ask God about what's up with the cicadas.

A Tuesday Top Ten

I recently subscribed to Netflix. I was looking for a solution to this entertainment challenge I've had for the last few years. For most of the last four years, I've been, ummm, a little busy. Until just now, I haven't had much free time for entertainment. At this point, it's become a little bit more of a priority.
Most of my current entertainment is in the form of reading, which is easy enough because I live absurdly close to a library. But since I don't have cable, I've been wanting to branch out into multimedia entertainment options.
Enter Netflix. So far, I really like it. I don't need 50 movie and TV show options 24/7. I just need the movies I want when I have time to watch them. So here's a list of the top 10 movies on my Netflix queue.

1. Mean Girls
2. Amelie
3. Amelie: Bonus material
4. Chronos
5. End of the Spear
6. Best of the Muppet Show, George Burns
7. Half Nelson
8. Shine
9. The Queen
10. The Fountain

Do You See What I See? Pt. 2

Last time I asked you readers to do an assignment. If you did your homework, you should have a sheet of paper with your name written all over it. It should be written with your non-dominant hand and overlapping in several directions so that you can hardly tell it's your name. If you haven't done that yet, you have one last chance. Go ahead, I'll wait.

OK, now I need you to go find your markers, colored pencils, or whatever you have. Steal your kids' crayons. Gather up different kinds of pens if that's what you have, blue, black, gel, ballpoint, highlighters. Now color in your art. Seriously. Any way you want. You don't need to color the whole thing. You don't need to stay in the lines. And you can use either hand for this part.

What do you see? Chances are you felt signing your name with the wrong hand was awkward and unattractive. Do you feel any differently looking at it now?
I've done this exercise with several groups of people and two main points come up. One is that your name represents you. And there it is, a work of art right in front of you. The second thing is that people often assume their non-dominant hand is less functional, less capable than the one they normally use. What makes this powerful is the process of creating something appealing and interesting with a part of ourselves we think of as inferior.
I bet you really wish you'd actually done the assignment.

Do You See What I See?

Degas said "Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." But not everyone will have the same experience of a given work of art. So is art (including writing, music, cooking, or any other creative form of expression) process based or outcome based? I keep coming back to that question about what defines art.
I think the creative process needs more than just beauty behind it. In fact, my virtual writer's "editing room floor" is littered with many a lovely turn of phrase because, while lovely, they didn't do enough work in communicating the meaning of the piece I was working on. I've heard soloists sing in church who were technically flawless, but there was something missing. For one reason or another, the passion was missing. The meaning of the work as an act of worship was lost, perhaps because the singer was distracted. There are certain photographers and painters I like because they see something I don't see, and when I see their work, I get a glimpse of that.
I bet at one time or another (maybe even right now) you've doubted your own creative potential. Maybe you instinctively knew that art is more than a bunch of notes, colors, or words together just because they're pretty. Well, I have an assignment for you.
Grab a sheet of paper. Seriously. And I know most of you reading are friends and family, so I will check up on you! Now grab a writing utensil. Using your non-dominant hand (the opposite of the one you usually write with), write your name nice & big in the middle of the paper. Now write it again somewhere else on the page. Use your full name, your nickname, any form of your name you want. Keep writing all over the page. Turn the page sideways, upside down, any way you want. It's OK if you overlap signatures. Get your page nice & full & then you can stop.
Now, I know some of you gentle readers are slackers. So I'm going to give y'all a couple days to do this first part and then I will tell you what to do next.

What Is Art?

As I was perusing an artists' magazine for inspiration, I asked myself what defines art. Actually, the question has come up quite a bit recently. Sometimes what the viewer perceives is entirely different than what the creator intended. My friend LeAnne has a wonderful blog on art. One of the main principles she discusses is that as a creative process, art connects us all to our Creator. So even if it's never seen by another person, the act of creating art has some value for the artist.
But if I create something and if fails to convey what I wanted to express, does it fail as art on that level? Or is the artistic expression dependent on some sort of background knowledge of the artist's perspective, an understanding that would share vital information on the meaning of the work?
It's a question writers also need to ask in writing for publication. The story of how my brother & I had fun putting a puzzle together last Christmas is significant to me. But unless you know me & Brian, there really isn't any meaning behind it worth sharing. It has it's place in the pages of my journal, but if I were to try to publish it the editor or reader would wonder "what's your point?"
I sometimes have a similar experience when I look at the altered books or handmade books of others. The meaning isn't clear. It's pretty. The colors work well together. The technique is admirable. But it doesn't do anything for me. The artist may have an emotional connection to a trip they took, or a conversation they had, or whatever. But it isn't communicated to me in a way that makes me care. In contrast, some altered books or handmade books clearly tell a story. I may not know the people and places in the work, but it resonates with me. As a writer, being able to bridge this gap where artistic license is used for the purpose of enhancing the story is important to me.
As writers and artists, we need to be able to discern between "cheap therapy" and a message that needs to be shared. And we need to hone our craft so that we can communicate that message effectively with others.

Current Read: The Peacemaker, Ken Sande
Current Music: American IV, Johnny Cash

Traditions

For the last several years, I have started my summer by spending at least some of Memorial Day weekend in a sort of "writing intensive." I almost didn't do it this year, but I was inspired at the last minute. I wrote a plan for my writing this summer. (Hey, if you're having a hard time writing, might as well write about writing). It was helpful in both practical and emotional ways to keep with the tradition of visiting my writing goals at the beginning of the summer. And I discovered a couple of interesting things.
I have many more styles, approaches, and forms of writing in my toolbox than I thought I did. I use each of them differently depending on how I'm feeling and what I'm trying to communicate.

• For journaling personal stuff, brain dumps, rants, and introspective stuff, I need my spiral bound notebook and my fountain pen.
• I use loose leaf paper and gel pens for brainstorming works for publication. The freedom to shuffle papers around is important here.
• When I get down to serious writing for publication, I need to be at the computer or my AlphaSmart. I think differently when I write than when I type.
• Sometimes I have something I want to write about that I'm having a hard time putting into words. I have discovered that making handmade books is quite useful for this. The creative process bypasses my verbal barrier, helping me find the words I've lost.

If I haven't written in a while, I get this restless feeling. I know that's common among writers. What I find interesting is that when I need to write in one form or style, writing in one of the other ones is only minimally effective. If I need to do some book art and I've only got my journal, that's only a bit helpful. If I need to write an article for publication and I'm not near my PC, that's not so great either. So I'm learning to ask myself why I need to write and what I need to write instead of just "writing something."

Altered Books

Altered books is a form of art whereby paint, collage, and just about any other media is used to to alter pages in a book. Sometimes pages or whole sections of pages in the book are glued together or cut out to further modify the book. Some people have a problem with this because they don't like seeing a book "destroyed." Personally, I think it's a neat way to keep a garage sale special from ending up the the garbage can.
Last week, while visiting my friend Karen in Ohio, we stopped by the local art museum. We happened upon an exhibit that included several altered books, or book sculptures by Clare Murray Adams. Karen and I had fun interpreting this series of books. Although it wasn't exactly what the artist intended, we saw the books as reflecting a writer's thoughts and feelings throughout the process of writing. Some of the books were wired shut, some had the spines ripped from the bindings, some had shredded paper spilling out from the covers.
If you struggle with writing, especially writing for publication, perhaps you can identify with either wanting to physically and dramatically alter the book or the conflicting emotions that arise when others view and possibly alter our work. Seeing this book sculpture series makes me want to keep a few old books on hand for when I feel the need to rip out some spines- umm, I mean, express my feelings on the struggles of writing.
BTW, we know our interpretation of the book series wasn't what the author intended because shortly after we arrived, she came in to brief the docents on her work. So we got to hear her lecture on her materials and process. Too cool.

Updates

If I did this correctly, My 100's should be back up on the sidebar.
I know there are some other links I still want to add, but I haven't quite gotten around to it yet.
For the record, I don't like the available formats for my post archives, but I'm not sure there's much I can do about that.
I'm in the mood to redecorate, but I'm not sure what else I want to change on the blog.
I'm just saying...

Current Read: Miracles, CS Lewis
Current Music: KLOVE

Spending Time

I know, I know. I haven't updated the blog for a few days. As a result, more than one of you has accused me of wasting time. But I wasn't wasting time, I was spending time.
Spending time is an investment. It's an intentional act. When we say we are going to spend some time doing something, we reflect the value of that on which we choose to spend the time.
For the last few days, I have spent time with a dear friend and her family. I've spent time healing. I've spent time thinking and brainstorming. I've spent time in Amish country. If you want an interesting perspective on how we invest our time, visit the Amish.
If we could spend time like we spend money, how much would it cost? Freelance professionals often calculate the value of their time by coming up with a desired income level and charging an hourly rate that reflects the work they do and the income goals they set.
There are those that say that every moment is precious, and in a sense I don't disagree with that. However, I wonder if the currency of time is more fluid than a standard hourly rate. I won't stay up late to wash dishes or other household chores. But I will stay up late to write, or update my blog, or help a friend.
Time well spent is priceless.

Wasting Time

Seen in a junk mail catalog: "The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."
I just love adding a good new quote to my collection.
Of course, this truism can potentially be abused, much like anything. I'd rather waste time than pay my bills, but eventually the electric company will turn off my TV. This will severely impair my ability to waste time watching it. So at some point I need to stop wasting time and pay the bills.
However, maybe it's the Lutheran in me, but I have a hard time with the concept of wasting time. Even when I deliberately set aside time for a special treat, there's that nagging voice in the back of my head. The one that worries about productivity. The one that has the "to do" list memorized. The one that usually starts out "you should."
I think the quote means to say that if you are going to waste some time, waste it. I mean really waste it. And enjoy it. Otherwise, what's the point? Wasting a little time, with no guilt, might just make us more productive. Maybe we should waste a little time. I might even put it on my "to do" list.

What I Learned From My Mother

Today my mom invited someone over to our Mother's Day celebration. Without her invitation, this person would have spent the day alone. This got me thinking about how I learned that sort of thing from her. I learned how even if you are just stopping by to pick someone up, if you walk into our house at Christmas time, you get a gift. I learned how to pay attention to what people love but never get for themselves, and how they take their coffee so you are prepared if you ever need to get them a cup.
In light of recent events, I found this poem that highlights the things my mom taught me.

What I Learned From My Mother

Julia Kasdorf

I learned from my mother how to love

the living, to have plenty of vases on hand

in case you have to rush to the hospital

with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants

still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars

large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole

grieving household, to cube home-canned pears

and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins

and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.

I learned to attend viewings even if I didn't know

the deceased, to press the moist hands

of the living, to look into their eyes and offer

sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.

I learned that whatever we say means nothing,

what anyone will remember is that we came.

I learned to believe I had the power to ease

awful pains materially like an angel.

Like a doctor, I learned to create

from another's suffering my own usefulness, and once

you know how to do this, you can never refuse.

To every house you enter you must offer

healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,

the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.

Didja ever?

Didja ever think you were having a bad week and then come to realize you had no idea how bad it could be? I'm not talking about real tragedy here, I'm talking about inanimate objects aligning their forces against you, everyone you know needing something not particularly urgent from you right now, and traffic jams that take the plural out of "miles per hour." That kind of bad.
My theory is that kind of bad likes a little bit of attention. Once it knows its badness has been validated, it can go be bad to someone else for a while.
So here's a few of the minor troubles the badness has inflicted on me:

• random paper cuts that go undetected until I use hand sanitizer. Ouch.
• I told a co-worker I didn't think there was anything that could improve my day. She told me all the Oreos were gone. An Oreo could have improved my day.
• There really was a traffic jam for no reason; quadrupling my commute.
• And why is it all the songs I find emotionally distressing find their way to the radio on days like this?

OK badness, you can go away now.

A Busy Week

Just a couple days after Mother's Day I will be heading out of town for a much needed vacation and visit with a dear friend. But first I have to get through this week. Last week didn't end so great & when that happens, it becomes kind of difficult to switch back into a positive frame of mind for the upcoming week. It's even more challenging because I have several meetings and assignments this week.
This is kind of a test. I've been trying to keep the commitments and obligations to a minimum while I take some time to heal from some very draining experiences. These days it takes me a little longer and a little more effort to do the things I absolutely have to do, and when I'm done with that I really just want to read, create some book art, or watch a movie.
There's not going to be a lot of time for that this week. So I need to find some shortcuts. One of the things that always makes me laugh is "For The Birds," the Pixar animated short that was released with the Monsters INC DVD. At about 3 minutes long, it fits the requirement of a shortcut to a smile. I even have it downloaded on my iPod.
So, what makes you laugh?

Current Read: The Red Tent, Anita Diamant
Current Music: In Time, REM

Why I Read Harry Potter

I'm quite a fan of the Harry Potter book series. I've enjoyed watching Harry grow up. I find his adventures touching, humorous, and even thought provoking.
This bothers some of my Christian friends.
To be honest, that bothers me.
I started reading Harry Potter after a couple of the books had come out. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And I don't believe in jumping on a bandwagon (pro or con) without firsthand knowledge of what I'm talking about. So I started reading out of curiosity and ended up falling in love with Mr. Potter.
Is it great literature? Not really. Is it Christian? Well, no. Has the author gotten a little self indulgent with her plot lines (and deadlines)? I think so. But I don't think those are the right questions and answers.
Can we learn a lot about good & evil from Harry Potter? Yes. Can we and our children relate to him as a character? Most definitely. And us writers, can we learn a bit about what it is about a book that kids crave, about what makes them come back begging to read more? I certainly hope so.
Maybe Harry Potter isn't right for some kids, or some grown-ups for that matter. Maybe the idea of "magic" is alarming. But I don't think Harry's magic is in wands or potions. I think his magic is in getting kids to read. I think it's in sharing some important truths about overcoming hardship, and choosing to live with integrity. I hope the kids who read it see that. And I hope they aren't the only ones.

Crying

The other day I was talking with some people about crying. We debated the pros & cons of crying when you’re sad. All the usual objections came up; it can be embarrassing, we want to be perceived as strong, we don’t want to lose control. Then someone said they didn’t understand the purpose of crying. After all, it doesn’t do anything to change the situation or communicate information about our experience to others. As I thought about the sometimes automatic experience of crying, I sort of understood what the person meant. Tears can come even if we’d really prefer they didn’t.
Then someone else said that we cry to express emotions that we don’t yet have words for. I believe that’s exactly right. Sometimes we just can’t use words to express our pain. The words aren’t enough.
As a writer, that’s frustrating for me. Words are not only the primary way we relate to the world, they are an important coping tool for me. And I am not a happy camper when my usual and customary coping tools don’t work. The good news is that once you’ve cried things get a little clearer. We might just need that catharsis to enable us to articulate what our pain is about and then discover if there is anything we can do about it.

A Few Observations

• I had a number of readers request that I allow comments on my blog, so I made that change a few months ago. I’ve had fewer comments on my blog than when I allowed comments only from other registered bloggers.
• Every year I forget just how wonderful the lilacs are. I keep thinking they just can’t be as fantastic as I remember them being. Every year I am really wrong about that.
• Since I don’t have cable, I sometimes feel like I’m missing out because I can’t find anything good on TV. Then I go to my parents’ house, where there are dozens more channels and I realize there still isn’t really anything good on TV most of the time.
• I can’t find anything to read. I’m just putzing around with some minor reads because I can’t find anything to read. This is unheard of for me. I was on a dark, deep, depressing reading kick for a long time. I got so stuck in that rut that now when I want to read something light & happy I find I have no idea where to even begin.

What Does This Mean?

If you remember your Luther's Small Catechism at all, hopefully the title gave you a grin.
As a writer, I have a fondness for words and their meanings. I also love metaphors, double meanings, contradictions, analogies, and anything of that sort.
Think about the word "miss." In one sense, it relates to avoiding, failing, or escaping something that is present, an appointment, a pedestrian, a ball. But the dictionary provides a second meaning with a separate entry, indicating the distinction is more significant than a variant or a slight alteration. The second meaning of "miss" is "disadvantage or regret resulting from loss."
In this case we miss something precisely because it is not, cannot, and will not be present. Big feeling for such a small word, huh?
And what about "free?" I heard someone talking the other day about how we are free. But to be free is not a "please take one" coupon kind of experience. To be free is expensive. You were bought at a great price (1st Corinthians 6:20). Freedom is fought for every day in the physical world. The value of our freedom is even more powerfully reflected in the knowledge that God considers your soul priceless.

Systems

I’m a systems person. I love discovering new plans and techniques for everything from organization to motivation to productivity. What I need is a system for sticking with my systems.
Seriously.
If you need a system for keeping the house clean and organized, Flylady works great. You just need to read the emails and actually keep up with doing what they say. Sometimes I’m better at that than other times. If you need a system for keeping accountable for your writing goals, I have plenty to choose from. The only problem is that I can’t seem to stick to any one system for very long.
I shop out new systems based on my mood and the general changes in my life circumstances. People tend to dump a system because something about it isn’t working. But I’m trying to learn what does work about each of the systems I try. Yes, I’m trying to systematize my systems. I bet there’s a pattern to what works and what doesn’t, based on the pattern of activity in my life and exactly what kinds of systems I need at a given point in time.
What kinds of systems do you like?

Housekeeping

Not long ago, my blog reached the 1,000 visitors mark. Kinda cool, even if it did take me a little bit to realize it.
I finally started adding the links back into my blog. I still haven't figured out how to get my "100's" back up in my profile, but I'm working on it.
I also joined Christian Women Online. Check them out, there's a lot of interesting stuff out there to peruse.
On a more serious note, a lot of the blogs I read have commented on the recent tragedy at Virginia Tech. I've found their thoughts to be quite profound and helpful in getting some sort of meaning out of all this for myself and the people I interact with every day. However, I chose not to post anything on this or other similar subjects widely reported in the media. I suppose the lack of current events might have a correlation with my lack of readership based on my ratings with search engines & such.
But I continue to make this choice. I do so because while it's important that we be able to share our experience of these events and help each other heal, I also think it's important to have space and time for respite from the sometimes overwhelming challenges we face every day. So I trust my fellow bloggers to say what needs to be said about current events. Hopefully, I can continue to come up with other meaningful things to share.

Gooey

The other day I was watching the special features on the Stranger Than Fiction DVD. When I really like a movie I really like to watch the special features. And I really like Stranger Than Fiction. One of the special features focused on the GUI, or graphic user interface in the movie. Harold Crick is a rather idiosyncratic person. He counts how many times he brushes each of his teeth, he knows how many steps it takes to get to the bus stop. He is very aware of his surroundings and this is represented with an animated GUI (pronounced gooey) in the movie. So we see Harold’s mental diagram of his teeth, we see him inventory the contents of drawers and cabinets. Harold’s GUI is centered on numbers, numbers in both time and space.
The creative team discussed how they came up with this particular GUI for the movie. Obviously they wanted it to be a significant point in the film, but not to the point of distraction. So they started batting around their own GUI’s. What visual images do we unconsciously (or maybe more consciously) use to relate with the world? Picture a sports fan who is perpetually late. His GUI might look like a playbook, laying out obstacles, openings in the path to the goal, offensive & defensive maneuvers. An architect might use a lot of geometry in relating spatially to the world.
I never thought about it before, but I have a GUI. (That was good to discover because I didn’t want to feel left out). And I was pleased to discover that my GUI is quite “writerly.” I free associate words and write them in my mind map. So if I ask how you are and you say “fine,” writing this word in my brain might remind me to return the library books before they are past due. My GUI looks a lot like an edited manuscript with circles, arrows, highlights, lists, and rewrites all over the place. If someone uses a word incorrectly, I rewrite the sentence in my head. (Yeah, I used to hate those people too, until I realized I was one of them).
What does your GUI look like?

Later

There’s not a lot of stuff we really have to do. When you need to, you can put an amazing amount of stuff aside to get to later. And when later comes, you might find you just don’t need to do much of that stuff at all. When you are going through an intense time period, whether it’s intensely joyous or intensely traumatic, this is a good thing to know.
If you aren’t overwhelmed by the lack of hours in the day, or the lack of general resources you have available for coping, “life’s too short” sounds a bit cliché. If you are that overwhelmed, “life’s too short” becomes the touchstone by which you prioritize your time and energy.
Another good thing to know is that the overwhelmed sensation will eventually diminish. The crisis will resolve. When it does, the trick is knowing how to retain what you learned about what’s important to you. Know how to willfully leave things undone; choose not to put some things back in your life. Intentionally exercise the decision making process of the overwhelmed. If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way to fit it into your life. If it doesn’t belong to you, if it’s someone else’s worry, or it doesn’t support your goals or the goals of those you care about, leave it for later.

Current Read: Grace (Eventually), Anne Lamott
Current Music: Speedwood, Lost and Found

Showing Vs. Telling

I know I said I’d stop with the grief talk, but there’s one more thing I wanted to mention. I’ve spent some time sharing things that are good to say when someone you know has experienced a loss. Even so, you might think it’s not the right time, or maybe you’re not sure if you are close enough to the person to be confident they’ll appreciate what you say. If that’s the case, you should know that when people are in the initial phases of grieving they often don’t remember what is said to them. They will simply remember that you were there.
Perhaps that’s why we often focus on doing things for someone who is bereaved. We can relate on some level to that helpless feeling the person is dealing with. We know they don’t have the energy to confront the day’s tasks alone. So we show up at the memorial service. We do their forgotten household repairs. We take them out for comfort food.
One of my favorite passages in literature is at the end of Tolkien’s Return of the King. Frodo has just sailed off into the West forever, leaving Sam behind. Watching the ship disappear, Sam stays on the shore with his 2 companions “far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.”
Even if it doesn’t seem like much, the gift of your presence may be the best thing you can provide.

Believe It or Not

A lot of people have a hard time believing in the resurrection of Jesus. It goes against what we understand about the natural world. It’s hard to explain.
Come to think of it, Good Friday is even harder to explain. Jesus willingly and knowingly suffered the ultimate penalty so we would not have to. When we read about his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, we can see that no superhuman strength was granted to allow Him to bypass the agony of His choice. He endured all the fear, despair, and loneliness of separation from God so we would not have to.
I used to think of Good Friday as the time of somber reflection before the joyous relief of grace on Easter morning. Indeed, it is a somber time. But maybe grace didn’t wait until Easter to show up. Grace wouldn’t be real if it wasn’t hard, if it didn’t cost something. What could be harder than the work of grace accomplished on that Good Friday?
Maybe the resurrection was the easy part.

The Best Joke Ever

So this guy goes up to Joseph of Arimathea and says, “Joe, I don’t get it. You are a prominent and wealthy man. You can afford to have the best of everything. You went to such great trouble to pick out the perfect tomb for yourself, one where people would remember your honor forever. Hand hewn stone, spacious, excellent location. Why on earth would you go and give the tomb to this Jesus guy?”
Joseph replies, “Hey, it’s no big deal. He was just using it for the weekend.”

Loss

OK, one more thing and promise I’ll try to lay off the grief & loss stuff for a bit.
Dealing with loss is hard. It’s also hard to know how to help someone dealing with loss. Part of the problem is loss is universal. We are confronted with our own mortality when we choose to relate with the bereaved. And death sets up the most helpless of situations. It is irreversible. It’s not something most of us choose for ourselves, and certainly it is not something that those of us left behind wanted for our loved one. Tolerating that kind of sorrow in those we care about is tough. There is not a whole lot we can do to “make it better.”
Recently one of my friends went beyond expressing condolences or sympathy. She entered into the experience with me and allowed it to be what it was in all its helpless, hopeless awfulness. She said “I’m sad for you and I’m sad with you.”
That’s it. She didn’t try to fix it. She didn’t shy away from it. She didn’t just acknowledge it. She chose to be with me in it.
Because she was able to give me that gift, I had the strength to then share the same thing with another friend who also recently experienced a loss.
“I’m sad for you and I’m sad with you” should go on the list of good things to say when someone is coping with loss.

Bereavement

Today we enter Holy Week, which culminates in the death and resurrection of Jesus. This is an emotional time of year for me, as I reflect on how Christ took on our humanity to the extent that he experienced death and the ultimate suffering of separation from God. Because I am mourning my own recent loss, this year it is especially helpful for me to know that Jesus knew something about the experience of death.
But recently a friend pointed out a different passage than the ones about the crucifixion. I’ve heard the story many times before. Yet I now have a deeper understanding of the meaning. It’s the story of Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus. My friend told me Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb because of his love for Lazarus, love that He did not withdraw even at the expense of his own sorrow. He didn’t pull away or try to sidestep the loss with an early intervention. Jesus not only understands death, He understands grief. The real miracle that day may have been His willingness to experience bereavement, even though He didn’t have to. In that, He gives us hope of eternal life, He gives us an example of comfort, and He gives us understanding in our sadness.
When someone has suffered a loss, the story of Jesus weeping at Lazarus’ tomb should also go on the list of good things to say.

Grief 101

A few weeks ago I wrote that I pay attention when I hear or see reference to something from 3 different sources in quick succession. At that time, this was rather frightening, because the reference in question was the passage in Luke stating that of those who have been given much, much will be expected. If you knew how blessed I am, you’d be scared too.
Well, it happened again. This time, I received a card, and a meditation, and read a book referring to the woman who anointed Jesus with perfume before his crucifixion. Jesus says that Mary has done a beautiful thing for Him, in preparation for His burial. In Mark’s version of the story, He also says “she has done what she could.”
To be honest, when people quote lots of verses on how much better things are in heaven, it can seem like they are forgetting that it’s those of us left behind who are struggling. Yes, things are better for our loved ones in heaven. And yes, it is still hard for us here on earth, especially without our loved ones.
Whether it is realistic or not, guilt is part of the grief process. The “what if” game is just part of the territory. That’s the kind of tough stuff we don’t really know how to respond to when trying to comfort someone who has suffered a loss. We often don't know what to say in the face of such distress.
The story of the woman who did “what she could” ought to go on the list of good things to say.

DNA

This is pretty cool. Thanks to Cris from the Chat 'n' Chew Cafe for having it on her blog first. Nifty.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Feedblitz

Well, the good news is I have Feedblitz on my blog now. So you just need to sign up if you want my posts emailed to you instead of having to check the blog every few days to see if I've made any updates.
The bad news is that in order to get Feedblitz, I had to update to the new blogger template. As I mentioned before, this "upgrade" causes one to lose much of the work they've already invested in the blog. I don't like the way my blog looks now. And while it seems like I'll be able to restore it to close to how it looked before, it won't be the same. And it will take time.
Most notably, I've lost my links. You know, the links I told you to investigate earlier in the week while I took a few days off. Yeah, those disappeared. Kind of a mean trick, huh?
Anyway, sign up for my Feedblitz feed. It'll make your life easier and it'll make me feel popular.

From the Bookpile

I need to take a few days off from blogging. In the meantime, I suggest you visit some of my fellow bloggers and favorite websites as listed in my sidebar.
Also, here’s a bit more information on some of the things in my waiting to be read pile, just in case your own waiting to be read pile is growing a little short.
Glimpses of Grace, Madeline L’Engle- A great daily devotional compiled from some of her previous writings. Excellent stuff to chew on here.
Unfinished Tales of Middle Earth, JRR Tolkien- Because these stories are in various stages of completion and edited by Mr. Tolkien’s son, Christopher, you get more than a collection of stories. You get a peek into his actual writing process. There’s information on the circumstances under which the stories were written and notes on other plot ideas & versions Mr. Tolkien considered. I could go on...
A Grief Observed, CS Lewis- I’ve read this book before, most recently just a few months ago. But reading after having suffered a loss is like reading it for the first time. Actually, it’s a bit like having CS Lewis in my head. Intense, but oddly validating and comforting.
There’s more in my pile, but I haven’t started most of it yet. I hope to be back soon.

Silence

Take, take til there’s nothing. Nothing to turn to. Nothing when you get through. Break, scatter pieces of all I’ve been. Bowing to all I’ve been running to. Where are You? Where are You?
Did You leave me unbreakable? Leave me frozen? I never felt so cold, I though You were silent. And I thought You left me for the wreckage and the waste on an empty beach of faith.
Was it true?
'Cause I, I got a question. I got a question. Where are You?
Scream, deeper I want to scream. I want You to hear me. I want You to find me. I want to believe. But all I pray is wrong and all I claim is gone.
I, I got a question. I got a question. Where are You?
Yeah, Yeah, I, I got a question. I got a question. Where are You?
Where are You?
Where are You?
Where are You?

Silence, Jars of Clay

The Greatest of These

I know this woman who is dying. I’ve watched her faith be shaken by what she doesn’t understand. I’ve watched the passing of time steal hope from her day by day. As things get more intense and complicated, I’ve wondered what can possibly make this better? The questions are unanswerable. The suffering is intolerable. No matter how kind or helpful or understanding I am, she will still die. What is left?
It’s amazing how the most difficult questions have the simplest answers. Faith and hope are failing, but “the greatest of these is love.”
OK. I can do that. I pray that it’s enough.

“But tears of grief cannot repay the debt of love I owe. Here, Lord, I give myself away, it’s all that I can do.” Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed.

Current Read: Unfinished Tales of Middle Earth, JRR Tolkien (it’s so good!)
Current Music: Blasphemous Rumors, Depeche Mode

A Rainbow

Right after I moved, I spent some time visiting my friend Deb in AZ. I was pretty burned out and looking forward to a change of scenery and some down time with my good friend. One thing I loved was the pace of our days. That was partially due to the fact that Deb was quite great with child and neither one of us was able to tolerate the heat very well. That suited me just fine. It was great to have a vacation and not worry about keeping up or dragging someone behind. It felt very nurturing.
Another nurturing thing about it was, well, the simple fact that I was nurtured. Deb even remembered that I love chocolate chip pancakes. And the dogs, what love fiends those guys are. Deb took great pains to see to it that I saw a variety of sites & got a lot of great pictures. She really wanted me to have a good time, & that in itself meant a lot to me.
The return travel home after a vacation is usually less than nurturing, especially when one is flying through O’Hare. On the day I came home, there was a storm at O’Hare & we were delayed in the air a bit. By the time I got home, the rain slowed to a drizzle and the sun was coming out. I saw the quality of the light and I just knew there was a rainbow waiting to welcome me home. I dropped my stuff and walked directly out to my balcony. And since I had just been traveling, I had my camera handy. So I have pictures. It’s a pretty great rainbow, even if the rest of the scenery isn’t as fabulous as where Deb lives. Even though I had to return to the real world, it was a great reminder of the beautiful stuff all around us.
It’s photographic evidence of grace.

Do You Have the Time?

A couple weeks ago I was walking to a friend’s house after we’d gotten a few inches of snow. That probably requires a bit of description for you to get a good mental picture. For me to walk in the snow requires that I use crutches, which are a bit more cumbersome & slower. Furthermore, in my neighborhood, a shoveled sidewalk is defined as a path the width of one snow shovel. So where normally 3 people could walk abreast, one person can only fit now. If said person is taking up even more space with the use of crutches, it gets really crowded and difficult to manage who gets to pass & how & when.
About ten paces from the street, I pass a building a woman has just exited. She quickly approaches behind me and sighs, clears her throat, and sighs again. Now five paces from the street where there is wide berth for passing, it is clear she wants me to step into the snow so she can pass. Stifling my questions on the etiquette here, I step into the snow. She passes, breaking into a run. Briefly, I assumed she was on an urgent mission. However, the run lasted only 15 seconds; about the length of time she was held up by my slower progress. My bemused chagrin was interrupted by a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. The season’s first cardinal landed on a nearby tree, and he greeted me with a chirp before moving on.
It’s a shame she missed it.

Career Day

I participated in my high school’s career day today. This is the 2nd year I’ve come back to speak there. I was shocked to hear from an old classmate that this is the year of our 15th reunion. I’m the kind of person who, until recently, hasn’t really been back to high school since I graduated. I think that’s because I focused a lot of energy on moving forward and I needed the distance from that time in my life to keep that forward motion.
I’m glad it wasn’t a case of never being able to “go home” again though. I think I was able to put some things in perspective in a way I would not have been able to do if I’d remained more connected with the people, places, and things from high school. It was neat to revisit that time in my life. The timing of how these things works out is interesting to me.
Who I was isn’t who I am now. But who I was is a piece of who I am. When we wonder where we belong in life, we can look back on the places we have belonged in the past and be reassured that God has a plan for where we belong.

More About Names

I’ve never been overly fond of my name. Sorry Mom & Dad, but it’s true. There’s no particular reason I don’t like it. There’s no other name I’ve got my heart set on. The name I have just doesn’t particularly excite me.
I’ve been thinking about how people in Biblical times often changed their names after life changing experiences. I’m undergoing one of those experiences right now. I’m learning a lot about grace. I’m learning that everything I have and everything I am has been gifted to me. There’s no reason for any of the goodness in my life except for grace.
Compare that with the circumstances of many of the people I encounter every day. Lives destroyed by broken relationships, hopelessness, and all manner of life’s hurts. Hurts that exceed the resources some people have available for mending. People I walk by every day. People who try my patience. People who violate my trust. People who wound my pride. These are the people who change me. People who need acceptance, understanding, and compassion.
In Hebrew, my name means “Grace.” I think I need to live up to the name I have before I go trying to get a new one.

A Story

In The House at Pooh Corner, there is a chapter “In which Eeyore finds the Wolery.” Which is to say that he finds a home for Owl because Owl’s previous home has been destroyed. The trouble is, what Eeyore found was actually Piglet’s home, though he did not realize this at the time. Piglet feels bad for Owl and doesn’t quite know how to tell him it is his house.
I think I can relate to that. Piglet feels a pang of loss at the possibility of not having his home. But he knows this is the very hurt that Owl is suffering at the moment, so he does not wish to cause him further pain. Have you ever felt like your sanctuary was crumbling before you, or being pulled right out from under you? That’s what I’m talking about. It’s hard, but it gives you empathy for others experiencing the same thing.
The story continues. Being the only one of the bunch who didn’t have fuzz for brains, Christopher Robin was smart enough to know Piglet was really in danger of losing his home, his sanctuary. Christopher Robin asks Piglet, what he would do if, in theory, his own house was blown down.
Before Piglet can speak, Winnie the Pooh answers for him. “He’d come and live with me.”
I’m happy to say I’m ridiculously blessed with people like Winnie the Pooh in my life. (Yes, people, that’s a compliment).

Passion

I’m one of those people who like the special features on DVD’s. I especially like the extras on movies with a sci-fi bent or some other kinds of special effects. Today, I watched the special features on The Dark Crystal, directed by one of my favorite people, Jim Henson. I just love the insights into the creative process of genius at work.
In this “making of” feature, and in a few other interviews, Jim talked about what it takes to be a good puppeteer. He said it isn’t enough to move your hands in time with the words you’re saying. You must push the words through your arm and out your hand. You must be able to communicate the full range of emotions and actions through your hand.
In the DVD's of my favorite movie, The Lord of the Rings, there are hours and hours of special features. In an interview, Sean Astin reveals a secret to his method for playing Sam Gamgee. He says that throughout the filming process, he, Sean, became Sam to Elijah Wood. He took on the role of caregiver, keeper, guardian.
There’s something awe-inspiring about this kind of dedication to one’s craft. Without this focus on the details, the work would still be creative genius. But could my passion for these works exist were it not for the passion of these artists? The absence of passion doesn’t necessarily diminish the quality of the work. But the addition of passion sure does contribute to it.

I Need

I’ve been known to have some trouble asking for help. I’ve got this stubborn, independent, “me do it” thing going on. I’m working on it though. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that it’s OK to sometimes ask for help. In the first place, people often don’t mind helping. In the second place, just because you can do something doesn’t always mean you should. Sometimes it’s a better idea to save your energy for something more important. So, I started learning to ask for what I need.
Asking for what you need can be a risk. People might say no, or think there’s something wrong with you for having those needs. But it also opens up the possibility of experiencing grace when someone reaches out to meet that need. I’ve mentioned before that people who are there when you need to ask for help are fantastic.
Do you know what’s even better? People who know that sometimes what you need is to not to have to ask.

Vacation

I’ve been on vacation for the last few days. If you haven’t done this lately, I highly recommend it. At first you might wonder about the wisdom of taking a vacation (the kind where you don't go anywhere) right in the middle of February, particularly when six inches of snow has just fallen on the ground. Most people who stay in their homes in this situation do so pretty much against their will. But for me, it’s the beginning of the formula for a great vacation.
I get to sleep in, because I’m not going anywhere if I can help it.
My errand list is edited down to absolute essentials.
I feel good about getting those errands done because the weather increases the challenge.
I catch up on stuff around the house.
I catch up on reading and movies.
The only other places I go are places I really, really want to go.
In this case, that place was a local Nature Conservatory. Again, this is the ideal place to be when it’s the middle of February and there is six inches of snow on the ground. I still have a bit of sunburn from sitting in a glass house for several hours, wearing short sleeves.
I was there 2 days ago. Today, there are 31 days left until Spring. Tomorrow, it is supposed to rain.
I think I’ll make it.

Current Read: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard
Current Music: A Day Without Rain, Enya

Would You Like A Cookie?

I just discovered a new favorite quote:

“An extravagance is something your spirit thinks is a necessity.” - Bern Williams

Sometimes we can be rather selfish and demanding about our wants. We come up with reasons to justify them, often resorting to claiming those wants as needs. I think this has diminished the true meaning of extravagance. We hardly know what that is when it’s no longer anything special. There’s a difference between filling the needs of greed and jealousy, versus filling the needs of the soul.
To illustrate- When one of my friends accomplishes something ordinary but pleasing, we joke “would you like a cookie?” We’re poking fun at the desire for reward (and acknowledging the achievement at the same time). As adults, we realize we don’t need a cookie every time we complete a task or follow the rules. Feeding pride is not feeding the soul.
In contrast, here’s an example that hopefully shows how an ordinary cookie can be about feeding the soul and not just the chocolate craving.
I was annoyed when I had to specifically make a trip to grad school just to hand deliver a document. The prof refused to make any arrangements to accommodate anyone’s schedule. It just wasn’t a factor in his decision making process. So, of course, on the day I set aside to leave work early (ticking off my boss significantly), it snowed. Snowed all day, and made walking challenging enough to fuel my aggravation.
So I’m walking down the hall to his office and I see a sign on the Academic Advising office.
“Hey, you! Come in here! I have something for you!”
So I’m standing in the hall, breathless, covered in snow, cold, and weighted down with crutches, coat, bag, etc. I was trying to figure out this sign because it had taken me off guard and I must admit I was a bit slow on the uptake at this point. Just then, this lady opens the door and smiles.
“You look like you need a cookie.”
I don’t think I said anything. I don’t think I could.
“Hang on, I’ll bring them out to you so you can choose.”
Seconds later, she reappeared with a platter of cookies. As I selected a chocolate chocolate chip variety, she explained that they had decided to offer them as treats to all the students because it was finals week. By then I found my voice, and I hope I successfully communicated to her my gratitude and some sense of the degree to which I did, in fact, need a cookie.

Writerly Things

I recently discovered the blog of Chip MacGregor, a Christian writer and agent. There’s tons of information on this blog, marketing trends, answers to readers’ questions, and other tips from a professional. All this good stuff is presented clearly, candidly, and with a certain sense of humor.
The other link I’ve added is Levenger. This store is about as indulgent as it gets for anyone who loves reading and writing. It’s a rare treat, but it’s fun to just window shop too. Fountain pen, anyone?

Current Read: I Heard the Owl Call My Name, Margaret Craven
Current Music: Freedom, Michael W. Smith

Words

I’m still trying to get in touch with my inner writer. I say that specifically because my writing identity is still very much on the inside instead of something I am able to overtly express at this time.
In the movie “Wit” the main character relates how she came to love poetry and words. She explains that as she journeys through cancer the love of words she developed as a child became all the more useful. She says regarding how to cope with this new reality, “My only defense is the acquisition of vocabulary.”
This got me thinking of the origin of my own love of words. I’m always trying to define how my two vocations, writing and counseling, came to be and how they relate.
I don’t remember my mom directly discussing my disability with me, or deliberately talking about attitudes and values she wanted to instill in me; attitudes and values that would influence how I adjusted to life with a disability and life in general. But I do remember her reading me The Little Engine That Could, and The Selfish Giant, and The Giving Tree, and dozens of other books that communicated the meaning of life itself to me. I grew up in awe of the impact of words, words that challenge, words that encourage, words that heal. I wanted to be able to make the words do the same thing for other people that my mom made the words do for me.
I still don’t know how or when this colossal writer’s block will crack. But I do know that every time I accomplish something I didn’t think I could do I ask myself how I managed to do it. And the answer is always because I have a great mom.

Current Read: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, JK Rowling
Current Music: Sticks and Stones, The 77’s

Random Thoughts

I’m not liking this switch to the new version of Blogger. In my experience, the new template gives me far fewer gains than what I lose. I lose the ability to make the font choice I want. I have to reformat everything. I lose the work I’ve already put into recreating a layout I was perfectly pleased with thankyouverymuch. I don’t like it when “new & improved” actually means “bigger hassle, less benefit.” Maybe it’s just the learning curve. Maybe it’s just me.
I’m going to try to update my blog some more in the next couple days, so expect some new links and such.


Over the weekend, I was watching VeggieTales. These 2 guys were eating donuts as they got shrunk Alice in Wonderland style by someone blasting their egos to make them feel small. As they got physically smaller, one said “Oh, our donuts are growing!”
Suddenly micro-sized in midair, they plopped into the box of donuts.
“Umm. Is this heaven?”
“No, it’s a jelly-filled.”
Cracked me up.

On Sunday, the high temperature here in Chicagoland was 1. I would like to officially go on record as saying that “1” should never be a “high” of anything.

Death Shall Be No More, (comma)

I just got done watching “Wit.” It’s about a professor of metaphysical poetry who is diagnosed with stage IV ovarian cancer. There are many reasons why I would recommend it to those of you reading. There are many more idiosyncratic reasons why I enjoyed the film myself. But the best explanation comes from Dr. Bearing’s own teacher as she explains the significance of the poem. In modern literature, the last line contains a semicolon. It is argued that originally, the semicolon was a comma, presenting a different meaning. Just now, I can’t say anything more meaningful about it than to quote the movie and the poem here.
“Nothing but a breath--a comma--separates life from life everlasting. It is very simple really. With the original punctuation restored, death is no longer something to act out on a stage, with exclamation points. It's a comma, a pause.... Life, death. Soul, God. Past, present. Not insuperable barriers, not semicolons, just a comma."

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee;
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou'art slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sickness dwell,
And poppie,' or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then they stroake; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
-John Donne

Peer Pressure

I was going to try to come up with something substantial to write tonight. Instead, I've given in to peer pressure and decided to update to the new version of blogger. So I'm going to be testing that out. Sometimes peer pressue is not a good thing. Sometimes it is.
One new thing I've already discovered is I can add tags that categorize my posts. That could come in handy. Anyway, you might see some changes around here in the coming weeks, so be sure to let me know what you think!

Striving

I’ve been studying loss and mourning lately and I discovered something interesting. Of course, we encounter loss in circumstances other than the death of a loved one. Even marriage carries the loss of singleness with it. But it surprised me to see success on the list of things associated with loss. Success means you’ve reached your goals. You, by definition, have what you’ve been working towards. So what is there to mourn?
The loss of striving. Striving is a motivating force behind many of the things we work to achieve. We all seek challenge to some degree. It’s healthy. In fact, I might have to say that there is a very, very small- I mean tiny- part of me that is a little sad that we’ve only had one major snowfall this year. Snow is something I love to hate. Yes, it is challenging to haul out my crutches and other “mountain climbing” gear just to make it across the street. But that small, tiny part of me likes the tenacity it takes for that kind of striving.
But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny, deny, deny.

A Top Ten List

In an attempt to look on the bright side, here’s my list of potential good things about getting sick.

Cold viruses seem to be a natural appetite suppressant
But I get to eat things like popsicles and other comfort food
Naptime
Coughing fits are a surprisingly good abdominal workout
I think I’ve lost 5 lbs in “congestion” alone.
Nyquil
People stop asking me questions so I don’t inflict my raspy voice on them
Sick days
I’ve been in my PJ’s, watching TV, guilt-free, for 2 days
Investing in Kleenex stock is probably a safe bet

Noticing a Trend...

I must have something I need to learn about irony. I was supposed to take a half a vacation day today. I've been having some trouble scheduling time off from work, so this was a big deal for me. And what happens?
I got sick, that's what happened. So I came home and slept for my entire long awaited afternoon off. Sleep is a grand thing, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind here. So I'm sorry this post isn't more exciting, but I'm perplexed by this whole irony thing. And I have a head cold.

By the way, for those of you keeping track, in the State of the Union Adress last night, President Bush made reference to the bible verse about how much will be asked of those who have been given much. That makes 3 times I've heard that verse in a very short period of time. I'll be going back under my bed to hide now.

Irony, Pt. 2

The other day I was out with a friend who isn’t a Christian. As we walked across a parking lot, I noticed a bumper sticker that said “Believe in God, or go to hell.”
At first glance, if you’re “on the inside”, and you have a warped sense of humor, maybe this is worth a little chuckle. But it made me cringe and shake my head in sadness.
What if, like several of my friends, you are on the outside looking in? This is not the impression I want my friends to have about what it means to be a Christian. This is not the impression I want them to have of me as a person. I’d be embarrassed to be labeled as a member of a group of people who treat their faith like an elitist club with initiation rights, dues, and secret handshakes.
Last week one of my clients told me she stopped going to church because she doesn’t have nice enough clothes to belong there. That, as they say, is just wrong.
I’m going to spend some time this week thinking about what I can do to make these things right.

Defining Irony

I've been on this new diet for the last six months or so. It's called the "I Bought A Condo" diet. (No, I'm not starving, Mom & Dad). I just don't spend money on junk food because I can't afford to. Every time I want some ice cream I remind myself I bought I condo.
The good news is that I'm halfway to my goal weight. Wonderful, right?
The bad news is that my clothes are getting too big on me to be passable anymore.
So to sum up, the essential feature of this diet's success is that I simply cannot afford to buy more than my daily allowance of food. It has been so successful that I now need a new wardrobe that I can't afford any more than I can afford the ice cream. And to tell the truth, some days I'm not sure which I want more.
Go ahead and laugh.

You can stop laughing now.

Current read: The Glorious Appearing, LaHaye & Jenkins
Current music: History, Matthew West

Feedback

I usually post on Sundays and I did not do so yesterday. I could blame it on the Bears game (it was an incredible game). But really, I've been having some trouble coming up with things to say recently and even more trouble sitting down to say those things. Life just goes through those phases sometimes, I guess.
So I'm opening up the floor. I'm making comments available to everyone. You'll still need to do the word verification thing, but even if you don't have a Blogger account, you can now post comments on my blog. Feel free to even go back & post on previous entries. I'd lve to hear what you have to say. I'll keep it this way for a while and see how it works out.

Finish Your Plate

So I’m back at the computer. I’m trying to figure out why, as my list of things to do grows, my interest in doing those things decreases. I think it’s like going to dinner at one of those buffet places. I like to get a plate with a little bit of a lot of things because that’s one of the primary benefits of a buffet. But after even just a few bites, I remember that there are other options. I don’t want to get filled up on my first plate, so I go back for more. I neglect Mom’s advice to finish what’s on my plate first.
Oddly enough, I don’t end up overeating in these cases. I’ve may eat only a few bites of many things, maybe not even a whole meal’s worth because I’m overly concerned about what else I could be missing.
It’s kind of the same thing in the rest of my life. I started out the year, the month, the week, the day, with a certain number of things to do. Some of them didn’t get done. Yet this doesn’t stop other things from being added to the list. Naturally, I want to make some progress on some of the newer things. Newer things are more relevant, more timely, more hopeful somehow. So how come I’m stuck?
I get stuck because I haven’t finished what’s on my plate. When I try to move on to newer, more interesting things, I end up not finishing much of anything. The little voice in my head tells me I’m getting ahead of myself. So it’s time to take a step back and assess what’s on my backlist of things to do.

I'm Not Here Right Now...

The trouble with a really good night’s sleep is that I sleep so soundly I don’t move, which means I end up with a stiff neck. Yes, it was worth it. But there’s nothing like a stiff neck to make you disinterested in sitting at the computer. So here are a few things I recommend you do away from the computer while I’m also away from the computer.
Go watch Rocky Balboa
Go listen to U218
Go read Charlotte’s Web-again (before you see the movie).
Go take (another) nap
Go journal something

Current music: U218
Current read: Heaven, by Randy Alcorn

Well, Bless My Heart

Lately, I’ve been going around telling people just how darned fortunate I am. I mean, just bless the socks right off me why don’t you kind of fortunate. I’ll give you one example, about my favorite Christmas gift this year, and one of my favorites ever. You’re just going to have to trust me that my life is full of countless examples of this kind of thing.
A few weeks ago, I was coping with some sad realizations, and I shared this with my “sisters.” Despite all living several states apart, our group of fellow writers has become quite close over the years. So I knew they’d be there to back me up when I told them about the early morning crying jag I’d indulged myself in. What I didn’t expect was the Christmas care package one of them sent in the mail. Among other things, she sent me Kleenex. I was sad. I cried. And from halfway across the country, I got Kleenex. I don’t think empathy gets any more empathic than that. I am so blessed it is absurd.
Now comes the scary part. I tend to believe that when you hear a reference to something 3 times in a relatively short period of time, you ought to pay attention. When a fairly obscure book title comes up in conversation several times in a week, as a general rule, I check out that book at the library. So last night I read a reference to a Bible verse in a business related email. Not five minutes later, Oprah was quoting the same verse on the news.
"For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be demanded; and to whom much has been entrusted, of him they will ask much more. " (Luke 12:48)
So that’s twice in I row I heard that verse.
Yeah.
If you don’t hear from me in a few days, I’ll be hiding under my bed.

Happy New Year!

I know it’s cliché to say this, but it’s been quite a year. This past year was filled with everything from travel to health crises. I even graduated from graduate school and bought my first home. Traditionally, at this time of year, I not only look towards my goals for the coming year, I also look back and see how the past year has measured up. Although I didn’t accomplish all my goals (it’s hard to lose weight when you’re stress eating while studying for tests), I have to say I’m in an altogether different place than I was this time last year. And, while I’m still catching my breath here, I have to say I’ve been quite content with where I’m at. Until last night, that is.
Last night it occurred to me that my birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Each year, I greet the approach to January and the subsequent birthday with less excitement and more dismay. This year I’m going to be 33. Now, I know this is a heavy thought for New Year’s Eve, but bear with me. Jesus was 33 when He died on a cross to save the world from the consequences of sin. Now, I'll be the first to say that a diploma and a mortgage is big. But this is bigger. Kind of puts a new spin on setting goals for the New Year, doesn’t it? Maybe it will help me stay focused on my goals a little past February this year.

Christmas Time

Yesterday, I received a half dozen Christmas cards in the mail. The radio station I listen to, KLOVE, is still playing the occasional Christmas song. More than one person has hinted that I can expect a gift in the next couple of weeks. What I lacked in the Christmas spirit in the weeks prior, I seem to be making up for in the last couple of days. I hope the trend continues. I like this idea of Christmas continuing to last beyond one particular day in December.
Last year, I read one of those viral emails about Christmas. This one had some interesting things to say about Christmas decorations. It suggested keeping one Christmas decoration up year round as a reminder of Jesus as Emmanuel, God with us. Since then, I have kept out a small Nativity, handmade out of clay. This particular Nativity means a lot to me because it was a gift. So I think of it often. I think the fact that is was a gift reminds me of the bigger gift of the real Nativity.
Maybe it’s never too late to get into the Christmas spirit.

Circling the Target

So last month I attacked this writing thing full force. My second wave came in strong at the beginning of December when I both wrote and submitted a few articles. Then came the retreat back into the hidey hole.
Now I’m circling the target again. I’m not exactly doing a lot of writing. I am reading plenty, but I just can’t seem to write. I think I’m pre-writing. Right now I have more reading projects going on than I usually do. I’m reading Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I’m also reading a few books on death and dying for work. I decided to throw in The Red Badge of Courage because I’ve never read it before. And I just finished The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. Lee over at Little Nuances just added substantially to my to be read pile with his post on Elisabeth Elliot.
So I’ve reached the point where I am wondering if my preparation for writing is actually procrastination from writing. I think there are a few things in life like that. We have to circle the target to determine what the best way to make our approach is. But sooner or later we need to trust our assessment of the available data on the risk, benefits, and obstacles, and just go for it. Now if I could just do that…

Merry Christmas

As Christians, we are called to show God’s love to others. We’re also asked to tolerate quite a bit. Living in our multicultural society, I accept that others have beliefs and traditions different than my own. And I’m more than OK with this. I wouldn’t force my beliefs on anyone because it wouldn’t be fruitful and I’m just not that kind of girl. Besides, Christians in other parts of the world are called to suffer and be persecuted for their beliefs. So that helps me keep things in perspective as I think about celebrating Christmas.
I’m especially thinking about how it’s become more and more of a taboo to wish someone a Merry Christmas. If one pays attention to the media, it certainly seems like Merry Christmas has gone the way of any number of politically incorrect statements. Yet this has not been my experience, or the experience of many “everyday persons” I’ve informally polled. In fact, I think it would be more offensive to assume someone is so fragile that they couldn’t tolerate a wish of “Merry Christmas.” Sure, if I engage in a more in depth conversation with someone I will inquire about how they celebrate the holidays. Even if my ultimate hope is to share the faith with them, I believe I need to start by honoring their own beliefs. But sometimes all one has time for is a brief greeting. I hope you’ll tolerate my wish that you have a Merry Christmas.

Rejection

I was doing so well. After NaNoWriMo, my energy was high. I found my voice. I had developed the habit of writing daily. I found ideas coming back to me. Not only did I write stuff, I actually sent it out. To editors. They sent it back.
There’s nothing like a rejection (or a couple of them) to remind one of the difficult and unpleasant parts of writing. The good parts are so good, I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that their unfortunate counterparts show up on occasion. What is surprising is that even though re-entry continues to be a struggle, I plan on getting up and working at it all over again tomorrow.
Go figure.

Favorite Christmas Carols

I’m a traditionalist as far as Christmas carols go. I like the classics, and I don’t like them messed with all too often. There are some new Christmas songs I like, but they typically have a classic feel to them. Todd Agnew has some new Christmas offerings and I really like them. Did You Know provides a thought provoking reflection on what life must have been like for Jesus, knowing the purpose for which He came to earth. His music does have a contemporary feel, but the overall tone is still traditional enough for me.
I love all the Christmas/Advent hymns, but I’d have to say two of my favorites are O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and O Come All Ye Faithful. The Nativity features a wonderful, ancient sounding version of the former.
But my all time favorite Christmas carol is The Little Drummer Boy, or The Carol of the Drums. I remember when I was a kid, waiting until the day after Thanksgiving when Mom would let us pull out the Christmas music. (We didn’t start after Halloween like they do now). We’d wrap presents and put up Christmas decorations. I’d always want to listen to this song first. Why do I love it so much?
I love the idea of this little child standing in contrast to the Wise Men. He had no possessions or status to speak of. All he had was this one thing, this thing that he was good at, this thing that made him feel real when he did it. That’s what he offered to Jesus.

more gifts:

melting snow
rain in December
The Little Drummer Boy
my Mickey Mouse watch
warm vanilla sugar chapstick
Nyquil
Sno-Caps
Sprite
soup
tea
Culver’s flavor of the day
the library in my backyard
spotters
good deeds
The Boar’s Head Festival
hand me downs from mom’s closet

The Nativity

What determines if a life is worth living? For many of us, when suffering significantly decreases our quality of life, we decide not to take measures to prolong the pain and discomfort. But there are some people who seem to live whole lives of immeasurable suffering. We’ve all seen people with physical or environmental or other challenges. We wonder about these people, about how and why they go on in the face of such suffering.
It occurs to me that perhaps the only difference between me and someone devoid of the hope, support, and means to cope with life is that I have a great Mom and Dad. I have parents that accepted and believed in me despite the obvious challenges my disability presents. Sometimes in the face of limitations, people are presented with further rejection and discouragement that robs them of the resources they need to have hope. Some people have distant, rejecting siblings.
I don’t. I have a brother who will loan me money to get my wisdom teeth out, who will drive for an hour to put furniture together for me, and will make that hour long trip in substantially faster time when I’m in the emergency room and need someone to help me home.
So I was thinking a lot about this suffering thing when I saw The Nativity tonight. Seeing the familiar story presented in a different manner gave me some new perspectives to think about. I felt a sense of hope and joy as I watched Jesus’ birth portrayed. Perhaps this touched me because I needed that so much today. The hope was immediately contrasted with the realization that suffering was the entire purpose, the intention, the meaning of Christ’s life. He suffered the ultimate suffering so we would not have to.

today's gifts:

redemption
that I do not need to rely on my suffering for redemption
my fireplace
my periwinkle bedroom walls
my dolls from Nell
melting snow
forecasts of rain in Dec
fun co-workers
Mom
Dad
Brian
angels among us
bunnies
The Princess Bride
Monsters, INC
company
office supplies
the new Staples opening up down the street
Borders bookstores
Christmas shopping via the internet

I'm Just Saying...

I don't have much to say today. Here's my list of gifts for today. I guess that says something.

chemotherapy
kind nurses
my sisters
hope
eternal life
Kleenex
self-determination
courage
the muse is back
my computer
my ipod
doctors
assertiveness
patience
role models
Christmas lights in the dark
my humidifier

New Blog Link!

My very talented friend and fellow writer, Teena Stewart has started a blog. Whispers in the Dark is for anyone interested in romantic suspense stories. Teena writes some great stuff, one of her short stories is the most delightfully spooky thing I've read to date.
You also need to check out the links on Teena's blog. She's got a ministry leadership webpage, a yahoo group for fiction writers, and she's probably working on some other surprises we don't know about yet.

Today's list of gifts:

Jars of Clay
de-icing chemicals
books on loan
metaphors
white elephant gifts
clean laundry
calendars
New Year’s resolutions
unexpected help
home ownership
my orange food tray
Kermit the Frog
A God who likes to show off on occasion
art
people
people as art
my post-it notes with fun quotes

Works of Art

The other day I spoke with someone who is very artistic. She talked about what her art communicates about her. She expanded on this topic by explaining that she chooses her clothes and hairstyle for the same purpose; to create an artistic impression. Then I got it. When she creates art, she isn’t just asking us to approve of the product. She’s asking us to see her AS art. She wants someone to see that she is beautiful and valuable.
Would we treat the people around us differently if we recognized them as beautiful and valuable works of art?
Would we treat ourselves differently if we recognized ourselves as beautiful and valuable works of art?

Images on the sidewalk speak of dream’s descent
Washed away by storms to graves of cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move, you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, “see the art in me”
Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity’s been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal men
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, “see the art in me”

“Art In Me” Jars of Clay

Continuing my list of 1000 gifts:

squirrels
tenacity
M&M’s
snow shovels
people who shovel
Yak Trax
tulips
my fridge magnets from LeAnne
snuggling in my down comforter
my garnet ring
antibiotics
my Bible
my bookcase
salvation
forgiveness
compassion
sacred spaces