November 29, 2006 - Wednesday
Current mood: satisfied
How many times a day to you hear the phrase "fall in love"?
I'm guessing at least 47; add another 32 on top of that if you watch anything on Oxygen or Lifetime.
Being the logically-minded, cynical, occasionally bitter person I am, I have always hated the phrase "fall in love". It implies weakness. I picture a woman and a man whimsically and absent-mindedly flailing about until they haphazardly stumble into each other's arms, too caught up in the feeling of it all to pay attention to anything else that might be happening around them. They just can't stop smiling and gazing into each other's eyes. They can't keep from touching one another. The world is spinning around them, but they are standing still, lost in the love they have just fallen into.
Puke.
I always said I would never fall in love. I would logically make a decision to step into love with someone, knowing full-well the risks and rewards associated with forming such a relationship.
I have been talking to a close friend about some guy problems she has been dealing with lately..I don't have any men problems of my own right now (no men = no men problems). And since I am problem-free, I figured I would give some sage advice to my friend, who has had a recent surge in the male-problem department. I don't know what it is. Apparently they published an article in the Testosterone Tribune (the bi-weekly newsletter published by males, for males, and about females) alerting everyone that she is single, beautiful, available, and has a lot to offer. Why it took so long for them to take notice, I'll never know. I'm just waiting for that article about me to circulate...even a mass email would be fine.
As I was talking with my friend, though, I started to notice how completely dubious I sound about love and romantic things. Maybe I've been burned too much in the past. Maybe I don't want to set myself up for disappointment. Maybe I'm just too much of a realist for my own good.
Because I am avoiding falling in love, but rather trying to "logically step into it," I am afraid I have formed a bad habit. I try to read the circumstances. I try to make things happen. I try to see how the relationship is unfolding before it even begins. I am so conscientious about stepping into love, that I try to see the potential for nearly every man I meet. "Hmm. He plays guitar and goes to my church..maybe he's my future husband." "I wonder what would happen if I married this guy..he has a great family and a good job." "Mrs. Nicole Humperdink*. Hmm. It has a nice ring to it." "Wow. That guy is really cute. I wonder what our children would look like."Well, as ludicrous as those thoughts may seem, they are true. Ladies, if you don't admit that you have those kinds of thoughts sometimes, then you're lying. If men knew what we really thought, they would turn around and RUN the other way. Well, as I was talking to my friend, I realized that in my pursuit of logical love, I have tried to learn my future prematurely.
It's better to read a book the way the Author intended, rather than skipping ahead to try to figure out the end. You miss the most important parts. You sacrifice the story for the sake of finding out what happens.
Does that analogy make sense?If I keep speculating about each man I meet, if I keep trying to figure it all out, I'm going to miss the good part of my story. I'm going to miss out on the romance and the wooing. I'm going to miss out on the relationship that needs to be built in order for love to happen. I need to stop skipping ahead and just let things happen naturally. Allow myself to be pursued. Allow myself to be won over. Allow myself to...fall into love. I don't have to be whimsical and airy about it, but I can at least enjoy the ride. So, ladies, I motion that we stop imaging every man we meet in a tuxedo. Let's just start meeting people as people...not as potential future husbands or fathers of our finest children. Let's just meet people. You can think a man is attractive. You can shoot those flirty glances and smiles his way. But let him do the chasing. And that's not primitive or anti-fem or anything. It's just nice to be pursued. It makes us feel beautiful and lovely and desirable.Take things one day at a time. Don't rush ahead. Don't try to skip to the end and miss out on the best part of the story.
*Humperdink is a ficticious name used for illustrative purposes only and in no way reflects my feelings or ambitions toward any real person who may bear this particular surname.
Currently listening : Phil Wickham By Phil Wickham Release date: 25 April, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Archives: The Blessed Curse
November 14, 2006 - Tuesday
Current mood: rejuvenated
Singleness.
Have you ever browsed the "singles" section of your local bookstore? Have you?
Why is it that all books on the topic speak of singleness as if it were some kind of plague or trial to overcome?
There is even a book called Getting Serious About Getting Married: Rethinking the Gift of Singleness. It's by Debbie Maken. Don't read it unless you enjoy becoming angry and throwing books at walls. I read an article by this lady based on the book. Ms. Maken seems to think that once you reach a certain age, it is your biblical responsibility to be married. Apparently she hasn't heard of Paul or...well, Jesus or anyone else in history who did amazing things without a spouse.
I wrote a blog about this article a while back.
Why are all of our Christian resources on singleness focused on fixing us? I don't get it. Authors are writing all their books about what we DON'T have, rather than encouraging us in the opportunities we do have.
You don't see these titles in the bookstores:
Paul wrote:1 Corinthians 7:8-9
So there, married people! It looks like us singles are the stronger ones...Okay, so I'm kidding a little. But we need a shift in perspective.
Why does "single" automatically equal "not married"? Why can't "single" mean "one person", living life independently and growing in the Lord....not necessarily "waiting" on anything because my life is happening right now. Maybe "trusting" would be a better term.
I'm not crying out in desperation for a husband. I'd love to be married one day...but it's not right now. And that's fine. I'm a happy, single girl who is just trying to live her life for Jesus...see? We do exist.
Currently listening : Mutemath By Mute Math Release date: 26 September, 2006
Current mood: rejuvenated
Singleness.
Have you ever browsed the "singles" section of your local bookstore? Have you?
Why is it that all books on the topic speak of singleness as if it were some kind of plague or trial to overcome?
What To Do Until Love Finds You
Every Single Woman's Battle
Sex and the Single Guy
8 Great Ways to Find Your Mate
If Men Are Like Buses How Do I Catch One
How to Find A Man Worth Keeping
Lord Help Me...I'm Single
Every SINGLE Day
I Kissed Dating Goodbye
I Gave Dating a Chance
Lady in Waiting
There is even a book called Getting Serious About Getting Married: Rethinking the Gift of Singleness. It's by Debbie Maken. Don't read it unless you enjoy becoming angry and throwing books at walls. I read an article by this lady based on the book. Ms. Maken seems to think that once you reach a certain age, it is your biblical responsibility to be married. Apparently she hasn't heard of Paul or...well, Jesus or anyone else in history who did amazing things without a spouse.
I wrote a blog about this article a while back.
Why are all of our Christian resources on singleness focused on fixing us? I don't get it. Authors are writing all their books about what we DON'T have, rather than encouraging us in the opportunities we do have.
You don't see these titles in the bookstores:
You're Single: Enjoy It While It Lasts
It's Not a Race to the Altar
8 Great Ways Not to Date
Paul wrote:1 Corinthians 7:8-9
Now to the UNMARRIED and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I am. But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion.
So there, married people! It looks like us singles are the stronger ones...Okay, so I'm kidding a little. But we need a shift in perspective.
Why does "single" automatically equal "not married"? Why can't "single" mean "one person", living life independently and growing in the Lord....not necessarily "waiting" on anything because my life is happening right now. Maybe "trusting" would be a better term.
I'm not crying out in desperation for a husband. I'd love to be married one day...but it's not right now. And that's fine. I'm a happy, single girl who is just trying to live her life for Jesus...see? We do exist.
Currently listening : Mutemath By Mute Math Release date: 26 September, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Archives: Confessions and Revelations
October 16, 2006 - Monday
Current mood: curious
Confession breeds Revelation.Or is it the other way around?
Confession: Although I am morally opposed to whiny punk bands (see my profile page), I like...nay...love the new Hawk Nelson single. It's called The Show, and it's a really good song. I first confessed this when I caught myself reaching for the volume button as this song came on and, instead of turning it down to a sub-audible level, I cranked it up and sang along. I was horrified.
Revelation: Perhaps punk music does have something to offer those of us who have reached our post-pubescent years.
Confession: I have pre-judged punk and punk-kind.
Confession: Despite my jesting toward certain friends and family members who watched the show last season, I have begun watching Deal or No Deal...regularly.
Revelation: While I still refer to the Deal or No Deal Girls as "The Hussies", the show has actually proved a fun and entertaining way to fill an hour.
Confession: I must now admit that Howie Mandel is not the creepy, old bald man I once presumed him to be. I will NOT, however, adhere to the idea of someone close to me that Howie is sexy (KIM).
Confession: Nashville hasn't been the amazing land of opportunity I thought it would be. I can't seem to meet the people I need to meet in order to get the job I want to get.
Revelation: There isn't a Road to Perfect in this life. Whether I am in Decatur or Nashville or Canada, life will always ben far from perfect. I will not be satisfied until I am finally where I was created to be...in the eternal presence of the Father.
Confession: I need to stop searching for fulfillment and happiness and continue pursuing God. He has promised that if I do seek Him, everything else will fall into place.
Confession: I have just committed the ultimate follicle sin: I chopped my own hair.
Revelation: I won't know until tomorrow morning for sure, but I think I did alright. I first received this revelation when I got a haircut from a spiky mullet-wearing man at Wal-Mart (see my blog about Rod Stewart), but needed a friendly reminder.
Confession: I am not the kind of woman who requires a $75 haircut every 4-6 weeks...even though I am going for punk-glam, right Keeks?
Confession: I have been holding a grudge with an authority figure ever since I got to Nashville. I labeled this person as distracted, arrogant, lazy and inconsiderate.
Revelation: I just found out last week that this person is battling cancer, and is dealing with all of the emotional issues brought on by a sudden and unexpected illness.
Confession: Maybe I need to take a better look at myself before I begin pointing the finger at someone else.
Confession: I miss my friends and family more than I ever thought possible.
Revelation: Did I bring myself to Nashville only to discover that matters of career and ambition bare little significance in the absence of loved ones? Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Maybe my job is unimportant as long as I can be surrounded by loved ones.
Confession: The relationships I thought had grown stale and old are the ones I have clung to the most when everything else around me is foreign.
Confession: I love McDonald's Monopoly!
Revelation: I know the food is horrible for me, and I know that my chances of winning anything other than more food are slim, but I have some kind of strange addiction.
Confession: I think it's just an issue of collecting those little game pieces and attaching them to that little board. But then in January, you look at your board and count......73 times I have eaten McDonald's since October??!!!?!?! That's disgusting!
Currently listening : Stereo: The Evolution of Hiprocksoul By 4th Avenue Jones Release date: 29 March, 2005
Current mood: curious
Confession breeds Revelation.Or is it the other way around?
Confession: Although I am morally opposed to whiny punk bands (see my profile page), I like...nay...love the new Hawk Nelson single. It's called The Show, and it's a really good song. I first confessed this when I caught myself reaching for the volume button as this song came on and, instead of turning it down to a sub-audible level, I cranked it up and sang along. I was horrified.
Revelation: Perhaps punk music does have something to offer those of us who have reached our post-pubescent years.
Confession: I have pre-judged punk and punk-kind.
Confession: Despite my jesting toward certain friends and family members who watched the show last season, I have begun watching Deal or No Deal...regularly.
Revelation: While I still refer to the Deal or No Deal Girls as "The Hussies", the show has actually proved a fun and entertaining way to fill an hour.
Confession: I must now admit that Howie Mandel is not the creepy, old bald man I once presumed him to be. I will NOT, however, adhere to the idea of someone close to me that Howie is sexy (KIM).
Confession: Nashville hasn't been the amazing land of opportunity I thought it would be. I can't seem to meet the people I need to meet in order to get the job I want to get.
Revelation: There isn't a Road to Perfect in this life. Whether I am in Decatur or Nashville or Canada, life will always ben far from perfect. I will not be satisfied until I am finally where I was created to be...in the eternal presence of the Father.
Confession: I need to stop searching for fulfillment and happiness and continue pursuing God. He has promised that if I do seek Him, everything else will fall into place.
Confession: I have just committed the ultimate follicle sin: I chopped my own hair.
Revelation: I won't know until tomorrow morning for sure, but I think I did alright. I first received this revelation when I got a haircut from a spiky mullet-wearing man at Wal-Mart (see my blog about Rod Stewart), but needed a friendly reminder.
Confession: I am not the kind of woman who requires a $75 haircut every 4-6 weeks...even though I am going for punk-glam, right Keeks?
Confession: I have been holding a grudge with an authority figure ever since I got to Nashville. I labeled this person as distracted, arrogant, lazy and inconsiderate.
Revelation: I just found out last week that this person is battling cancer, and is dealing with all of the emotional issues brought on by a sudden and unexpected illness.
Confession: Maybe I need to take a better look at myself before I begin pointing the finger at someone else.
Confession: I miss my friends and family more than I ever thought possible.
Revelation: Did I bring myself to Nashville only to discover that matters of career and ambition bare little significance in the absence of loved ones? Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Maybe my job is unimportant as long as I can be surrounded by loved ones.
Confession: The relationships I thought had grown stale and old are the ones I have clung to the most when everything else around me is foreign.
Confession: I love McDonald's Monopoly!
Revelation: I know the food is horrible for me, and I know that my chances of winning anything other than more food are slim, but I have some kind of strange addiction.
Confession: I think it's just an issue of collecting those little game pieces and attaching them to that little board. But then in January, you look at your board and count......73 times I have eaten McDonald's since October??!!!?!?! That's disgusting!
Currently listening : Stereo: The Evolution of Hiprocksoul By 4th Avenue Jones Release date: 29 March, 2005
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Archives: An Interesting Hygiene Experience
September 26, 2006 - Tuesday
Current mood: numb
Last night I stayed at my friend Misti's house. No big deal. I had all my stuff (except I forgot my pillow, but she had an extra), I made sure I set my alarm with plenty of time for me to get up and get ready in the morning. I ate dinner before I went...I was just looking forward to spending a relaxing evening in front of the television with one of my best friends...just like college (and virutally every other evening of my life right now).
Around 9:30, I decided I wanted to go take a shower...Again, no big deal. I brought all the necessities to the bathroom with me, paying careful attention not to forget anything.
I have a horribly wasteful habit of running the water for a few minutes before actually getting in the shower...I like the water to be nice and hot before I jump in. So I started the shower and proceeded to do whatever it is that one does while waiting for the water to warm up.
All of a sudden, I noticed that the atmosphere in the bathroom felt very heavy. I looked up and I was engulfed in a cloud of steam. It was so oppressive that I found it difficult to breathe...strange, I know. The mirrors were long gone, covered with that opaque white fog. And even the shower curtains were completely clouded.
At this point, I decided that the water was probably too hot for a normal human's skin. And although I do enjoy being slightly scalded when stepping into a steaming shower, I figured second degree burns and a trip to emergency would present more of an inconvenience than anything.
I approached the shower, pulled the curtain back, and extended my arm toward the faucet in an attempt to turn the water cooler, but just as my fingers reached the knob, I was sprayed in the face with searing water...this shower was not turning out like I had anticipated...and I wasn't even in it yet.
As I continued to struggle with the faucet, I had moved out of the line of the spraying shower head, and while I was saving my face (literally), water was still spraying all over the bathroom, soaking the toilet seat, toilet cover, and the floor next to the tub. I continued trying to turn the knob, straining to keep my face out of the stray water stream. Were my hands really so wet that I couldn't grip the stupid faucet and turn the water down? After a couple more minutes of struggling, I determined that the problem must not be with my hands, but instead, with the faucet itself.
I turned the water completely off in order to assess the situation. After much careful observation, I realized that while the faucet looked like a normal everyday, turn-in-a-clockwise-fashion-to-make-it-hotter spicket, but instead, you were to push the entire knob to the right or left, depending on your desired temperature...weird, I know.
Three minutes later, the water was at an appropriate degree, much of the steam had cleared, and the shower was as satisfactory as any other shower. And then I noticed something intriguing. Hanging from the shower head was a large plastic container filled with a silverish-clear liquid. Its large blue button was right at eye level, staring me in the face, commanding my attention. "Hmm," I thought, "that must be one of those cool soap dispensers like they have in those junk mail catalogs." After about 15 seconds of deliberating, my curiosity got the better of me and I pushed the button. I placed my hand under what I thought was the nozzle of the soap dispenser.
Nothing happened.
The thought occurred to me that this may in fact not be the soap dispenser I thought it was, and I looked at the back of the container.
"Automatic Shower Cleaner"
Oh great.
And not five seconds after I read the label on the back, I was sprayed, in the mouth, on the face, and all over with shower cleanser.
So after the shower from hell, I proceeded to do my normal post-shower routine, and then mopped up the floor and toilet seat that were still soaked from the afore-mentioned stray stream of water spraying from the shower head.
The moral of the story: Even if you enjoy regular showers, and consider yourself rather an expert at the task, it's probably a good idea to ask the host the essential workings of the shower in a foreign-bathroom situation.
Currently listening : Good Monsters By Jars of Clay Release date: 05 September, 2006
Current mood: numb
Last night I stayed at my friend Misti's house. No big deal. I had all my stuff (except I forgot my pillow, but she had an extra), I made sure I set my alarm with plenty of time for me to get up and get ready in the morning. I ate dinner before I went...I was just looking forward to spending a relaxing evening in front of the television with one of my best friends...just like college (and virutally every other evening of my life right now).
Around 9:30, I decided I wanted to go take a shower...Again, no big deal. I brought all the necessities to the bathroom with me, paying careful attention not to forget anything.
I have a horribly wasteful habit of running the water for a few minutes before actually getting in the shower...I like the water to be nice and hot before I jump in. So I started the shower and proceeded to do whatever it is that one does while waiting for the water to warm up.
All of a sudden, I noticed that the atmosphere in the bathroom felt very heavy. I looked up and I was engulfed in a cloud of steam. It was so oppressive that I found it difficult to breathe...strange, I know. The mirrors were long gone, covered with that opaque white fog. And even the shower curtains were completely clouded.
At this point, I decided that the water was probably too hot for a normal human's skin. And although I do enjoy being slightly scalded when stepping into a steaming shower, I figured second degree burns and a trip to emergency would present more of an inconvenience than anything.
I approached the shower, pulled the curtain back, and extended my arm toward the faucet in an attempt to turn the water cooler, but just as my fingers reached the knob, I was sprayed in the face with searing water...this shower was not turning out like I had anticipated...and I wasn't even in it yet.
As I continued to struggle with the faucet, I had moved out of the line of the spraying shower head, and while I was saving my face (literally), water was still spraying all over the bathroom, soaking the toilet seat, toilet cover, and the floor next to the tub. I continued trying to turn the knob, straining to keep my face out of the stray water stream. Were my hands really so wet that I couldn't grip the stupid faucet and turn the water down? After a couple more minutes of struggling, I determined that the problem must not be with my hands, but instead, with the faucet itself.
I turned the water completely off in order to assess the situation. After much careful observation, I realized that while the faucet looked like a normal everyday, turn-in-a-clockwise-fashion-to-make-it-hotter spicket, but instead, you were to push the entire knob to the right or left, depending on your desired temperature...weird, I know.
Three minutes later, the water was at an appropriate degree, much of the steam had cleared, and the shower was as satisfactory as any other shower. And then I noticed something intriguing. Hanging from the shower head was a large plastic container filled with a silverish-clear liquid. Its large blue button was right at eye level, staring me in the face, commanding my attention. "Hmm," I thought, "that must be one of those cool soap dispensers like they have in those junk mail catalogs." After about 15 seconds of deliberating, my curiosity got the better of me and I pushed the button. I placed my hand under what I thought was the nozzle of the soap dispenser.
Nothing happened.
The thought occurred to me that this may in fact not be the soap dispenser I thought it was, and I looked at the back of the container.
"Automatic Shower Cleaner"
Oh great.
And not five seconds after I read the label on the back, I was sprayed, in the mouth, on the face, and all over with shower cleanser.
So after the shower from hell, I proceeded to do my normal post-shower routine, and then mopped up the floor and toilet seat that were still soaked from the afore-mentioned stray stream of water spraying from the shower head.
The moral of the story: Even if you enjoy regular showers, and consider yourself rather an expert at the task, it's probably a good idea to ask the host the essential workings of the shower in a foreign-bathroom situation.
Currently listening : Good Monsters By Jars of Clay Release date: 05 September, 2006
Friday, September 15, 2006
Archives: And to the Emo Boys in Girl Pants
September 15, 2006 - Friday
Current mood: amused
Dear Emo Boy:
Please allow me to begin by saying that I love you and your kind. Emo boys bring a new sense of pride in male emotion. Where other men are rugged and tough, emo boys are not afraid to display their feelings through music, eyeliner, clothing, etc.
You are a group of trend-setters. You create the pace for other men. They are just slightly behind you in terms of fashion and appearance. You have brought back the comb-over. Where once this hair style was thought of as a method for the elderly to hide (or attempt to hide) their bald spots, you have now turned this follicle masterpiece into a staple of Emo pride. I love how you begin approximately 4 inches above the left ear, create a part, and then swoop the hair across your head. The rest of male-kind is slowly following suit. But nobody can execute the comb-over quite like you.
As much as I adore you, Emo boys, I must take a moment to share one critique. A piece of advice regarding one very minute and insignificant detail of your appearance...
Why must you wear girl jeans?
I have yet to find a boy who actually appears more attractive while wearing pants designed for the female body. Why do you do this? You have to understand, your body is not created like a woman's body. Women have curves. Women have hips and extra padding in the gluteal area. Boys...especially you skinny emo boys...your lower halves are basically straight. Although you may be thin enough to fit into a women's jean size 0 or 2, you lack the curves for which they were designed. What ever happened to the days of wearing baggy carpenter jeans? Those would look great with your black T-shirts.
I'm just afraid that boys' bodies are not the type to be showcased by tight jeans. And it is particularly tragic when you choose stretch girl jeans as a piece of your ensemble. These jeans don't even look good on women...why would you think that hugging every curve (or lack thereof) of your body would be a good thing?
Emo boys, let the ladies love you for your sensitive hearts and your mysterious souls. Let us love you for your brilliant hair and amazing eyeliner technique. Allow us to delight in your music and your troubled minds. But please, don't try to make us love you for your tushies! Boy butts just aren't that great. I'm sorry to have to tell you like this. I wish there were some other way...but please, I implore you....please stop shopping in the women's section. I am begging.
Just find some 28 x 31 pants at American Eagle and let that be enough.
Any woman who would love you for your butt in tight girl jeans is no woman who needs to have you.
Sit on that for awhile...It's for your own good.
Remember I love you, Nicole
Currently listening : Albatross By The Classic Crime Release date: 23 May, 2006
Current mood: amused
Dear Emo Boy:
Please allow me to begin by saying that I love you and your kind. Emo boys bring a new sense of pride in male emotion. Where other men are rugged and tough, emo boys are not afraid to display their feelings through music, eyeliner, clothing, etc.
You are a group of trend-setters. You create the pace for other men. They are just slightly behind you in terms of fashion and appearance. You have brought back the comb-over. Where once this hair style was thought of as a method for the elderly to hide (or attempt to hide) their bald spots, you have now turned this follicle masterpiece into a staple of Emo pride. I love how you begin approximately 4 inches above the left ear, create a part, and then swoop the hair across your head. The rest of male-kind is slowly following suit. But nobody can execute the comb-over quite like you.
As much as I adore you, Emo boys, I must take a moment to share one critique. A piece of advice regarding one very minute and insignificant detail of your appearance...
Why must you wear girl jeans?
I have yet to find a boy who actually appears more attractive while wearing pants designed for the female body. Why do you do this? You have to understand, your body is not created like a woman's body. Women have curves. Women have hips and extra padding in the gluteal area. Boys...especially you skinny emo boys...your lower halves are basically straight. Although you may be thin enough to fit into a women's jean size 0 or 2, you lack the curves for which they were designed. What ever happened to the days of wearing baggy carpenter jeans? Those would look great with your black T-shirts.
I'm just afraid that boys' bodies are not the type to be showcased by tight jeans. And it is particularly tragic when you choose stretch girl jeans as a piece of your ensemble. These jeans don't even look good on women...why would you think that hugging every curve (or lack thereof) of your body would be a good thing?
Emo boys, let the ladies love you for your sensitive hearts and your mysterious souls. Let us love you for your brilliant hair and amazing eyeliner technique. Allow us to delight in your music and your troubled minds. But please, don't try to make us love you for your tushies! Boy butts just aren't that great. I'm sorry to have to tell you like this. I wish there were some other way...but please, I implore you....please stop shopping in the women's section. I am begging.
Just find some 28 x 31 pants at American Eagle and let that be enough.
Any woman who would love you for your butt in tight girl jeans is no woman who needs to have you.
Sit on that for awhile...It's for your own good.
Remember I love you, Nicole
Currently listening : Albatross By The Classic Crime Release date: 23 May, 2006
Friday, September 8, 2006
Archives: Ah...Home Crap Home (Literally)
September 8, 2006 - Friday
Current mood: contemplative
Tonight was my first trip home from Nashville. It has been four weeks since my presence has graced the town of my birth, my childhood, my teenage years, and my early twenties…the town I have affectionately coined "Dequator".
As I entered Illinois, I was instantly hit with a pleasant aroma. A combination of freshly cut farm grass, mixed with manure from a range of various livestock creatures. Where normally these smells would implicate a severe bought of sneezing and wheezing relieved only by taking a couple of puffs of the ever-sustaining life force known as a nebulizer, tonight I welcomed them with open arms. The smell of grass is the smell of life for me…and the smell of manure is the smell of home (well, not my house…but definitely home). This is probably a concept only those of us born and bred in the Midwest could possibly comprehend.
Where once I was simultaneously bored and utterly disgusted at the sight of farms and crops and silos and combines, I now welcomed these features. I gazed to my right: corn about two feet taller than me...and to my left: soybeans. And I thought, "Wow. This isn't so boring afterall. Thanks be to God for crop rotation, for only a quarter mile up the road, each crop had switched sides...the corn was now on the LEFT and the soybeans were on the RIGHT. How....exhilarating!
My drive home was filled with…what else but music. And as I drove the music lifted my emotions in a vast array of directions. I went from misty-eyed conviction to righteous indignation, to self-reflection, to outright laughter. The playlist went as follows:
-Kendall Payne – Grown
-Adam Watts – The Noise Inside
-Michael Olson – Long Arm of Love
-Hyperstatic Union - Lifegiver
- Jimmy Needham – Speak
- Disciple – Special Dual Disc featuring 4 new (incredible) songs
-Ginny Owens – Without Condition
-Day of Fire – Cut & Move
I am pleased to inform you all that I am now suffering from an extremely hoarse and cracky voice as a direct result of singing at the top of my lungs for 6 ½ hours straight.
The low point of my drive home tonight occurred around mile 224. I was under the impression during my trip and up to this point, that the trip from Nashville to the afore-mentioned Dequator, was approximately 300 miles. Much to my dismay, around mile 224, I remembered that the trip is actually about 397 miles…adding another hour and a half to my ETA. I was pretty bummed.
But not for long, because the high point of my trip occurred around mile 300 when I discovered a Starbucks in Effingham. Who knew a grande Chai Tea Latte could once again make everything okay.
As I finally approached Decatur, I was hit with that ever-memorable scent of our fine town. It is the reason for the town slogan, "Decatur, we like it here." It is our daily sustenance and the way we identify ourselves. The very corn and soybeans I had seen only a few miles before, were now being processed in the thriving community I had left only weeks before. I was shocked to find that everything was exactly the same as I had left it. I suppose I was expecting some sort of ghost town because the city could not possibly thrive without my presence here. But, alas, nobody waved or honked at me as I passed through Mt. Zion and onto Eldorado street. And they have even started some much-needed roadwork near my house. It's good they're still concerned with making this town a better place, even though I'm not here to keep everything rolling.
One final thought: During my six hour drive tonight, I had a lot of time to ponder life…and I came to this conclusion:
Courage = Skinny Jeans
And I'm sorry to say, my friends, that is one trend I am not brave enough to try. This fashion fad is one that is not flattering to anyone above 110 lbs. And for those under this weight, legs wind up looking like bird legs or stilts or twigs or…you get the point. Ladies, what ever happened to wearing loose clothing that ever-so-seductively brushed your curves as you passed by a non-suspecting, but soon to become slack-jawed man? What ever happened to leaving something to the imagination? There is NO, I repeat NO benefit to showing the world every bump and lump you have to offer…and yes, thin girls have bumps and lumps, too….and they're not cute. And for those of us who….how shall I say….are not lacking in the calf and cankle department….these jeans are a virtual impossibility. Ladies, I implore you, please stand with me, and rise against this trend. I WILL NOT SUCCOMB TO SOCIETY'S PRESSURE TO SQUEEZE MYSELF INTO A PAIR OF TAPER-LEG, HIGH WAISTED JEANS…I REFUSE TO ADOPT FASHION IDEAS THAT COULD EASILY BE TAKEN FROM MY AUNT LOIS'S GARAGE SALE. What's next? Front pleats? Ankle length? Tight rolling?
**And don't worry, gentleman, an editorial on "boys who wear girl jeans" is coming your way soon.
Current mood: contemplative
Tonight was my first trip home from Nashville. It has been four weeks since my presence has graced the town of my birth, my childhood, my teenage years, and my early twenties…the town I have affectionately coined "Dequator".
As I entered Illinois, I was instantly hit with a pleasant aroma. A combination of freshly cut farm grass, mixed with manure from a range of various livestock creatures. Where normally these smells would implicate a severe bought of sneezing and wheezing relieved only by taking a couple of puffs of the ever-sustaining life force known as a nebulizer, tonight I welcomed them with open arms. The smell of grass is the smell of life for me…and the smell of manure is the smell of home (well, not my house…but definitely home). This is probably a concept only those of us born and bred in the Midwest could possibly comprehend.
Where once I was simultaneously bored and utterly disgusted at the sight of farms and crops and silos and combines, I now welcomed these features. I gazed to my right: corn about two feet taller than me...and to my left: soybeans. And I thought, "Wow. This isn't so boring afterall. Thanks be to God for crop rotation, for only a quarter mile up the road, each crop had switched sides...the corn was now on the LEFT and the soybeans were on the RIGHT. How....exhilarating!
My drive home was filled with…what else but music. And as I drove the music lifted my emotions in a vast array of directions. I went from misty-eyed conviction to righteous indignation, to self-reflection, to outright laughter. The playlist went as follows:
-Kendall Payne – Grown
-Adam Watts – The Noise Inside
-Michael Olson – Long Arm of Love
-Hyperstatic Union - Lifegiver
- Jimmy Needham – Speak
- Disciple – Special Dual Disc featuring 4 new (incredible) songs
-Ginny Owens – Without Condition
-Day of Fire – Cut & Move
I am pleased to inform you all that I am now suffering from an extremely hoarse and cracky voice as a direct result of singing at the top of my lungs for 6 ½ hours straight.
The low point of my drive home tonight occurred around mile 224. I was under the impression during my trip and up to this point, that the trip from Nashville to the afore-mentioned Dequator, was approximately 300 miles. Much to my dismay, around mile 224, I remembered that the trip is actually about 397 miles…adding another hour and a half to my ETA. I was pretty bummed.
But not for long, because the high point of my trip occurred around mile 300 when I discovered a Starbucks in Effingham. Who knew a grande Chai Tea Latte could once again make everything okay.
As I finally approached Decatur, I was hit with that ever-memorable scent of our fine town. It is the reason for the town slogan, "Decatur, we like it here." It is our daily sustenance and the way we identify ourselves. The very corn and soybeans I had seen only a few miles before, were now being processed in the thriving community I had left only weeks before. I was shocked to find that everything was exactly the same as I had left it. I suppose I was expecting some sort of ghost town because the city could not possibly thrive without my presence here. But, alas, nobody waved or honked at me as I passed through Mt. Zion and onto Eldorado street. And they have even started some much-needed roadwork near my house. It's good they're still concerned with making this town a better place, even though I'm not here to keep everything rolling.
One final thought: During my six hour drive tonight, I had a lot of time to ponder life…and I came to this conclusion:
Courage = Skinny Jeans
And I'm sorry to say, my friends, that is one trend I am not brave enough to try. This fashion fad is one that is not flattering to anyone above 110 lbs. And for those under this weight, legs wind up looking like bird legs or stilts or twigs or…you get the point. Ladies, what ever happened to wearing loose clothing that ever-so-seductively brushed your curves as you passed by a non-suspecting, but soon to become slack-jawed man? What ever happened to leaving something to the imagination? There is NO, I repeat NO benefit to showing the world every bump and lump you have to offer…and yes, thin girls have bumps and lumps, too….and they're not cute. And for those of us who….how shall I say….are not lacking in the calf and cankle department….these jeans are a virtual impossibility. Ladies, I implore you, please stand with me, and rise against this trend. I WILL NOT SUCCOMB TO SOCIETY'S PRESSURE TO SQUEEZE MYSELF INTO A PAIR OF TAPER-LEG, HIGH WAISTED JEANS…I REFUSE TO ADOPT FASHION IDEAS THAT COULD EASILY BE TAKEN FROM MY AUNT LOIS'S GARAGE SALE. What's next? Front pleats? Ankle length? Tight rolling?
**And don't worry, gentleman, an editorial on "boys who wear girl jeans" is coming your way soon.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Archives: In Loving Memory of the Celestial Body Formerly Known as the Planet Pluto
August 25, 2006 - Friday
My day began exceptionally cheerfully. I awoke with a smile on my face...a rarity to say the least. I arrived at work with no major problems thus far in my day, and I signed on to my homepage at work, as is the norm for me. I always check the headlines and see what has been happening in the world. I have trouble with newspapers...they are too big and i always get them all mangled. There's no way for me to mess up a news website, though...so that is my source of choice.
As I scrolled through the top headlines covering various issues from the morning after pill, to crisis in the middle east, to terrorism, to vengeance for a young girls' alleged killer, one particular headline caught my eye:
"Hmm," I thought. "I wonder if that has something to do with Disney. So I clicked and that's when my day started to grow sour.
The opening line of the story was all I needed to read. Pluto, the ninth planet in our solar system, has been downgraded to a dwarf planet.
My chest began to feel tight, and my breathing was becoming increasingly sporatic and uncontrolled. I felt a heaviness on my shoulders as I began to think about that poor, lonely planet, hanging out there on the edge of our solar system...too cold to support life, too dark to reveal its beauty...and I began to weep on the inside.
How could they do this? They can't just "decide" something is not a planet anymore! Are they just going to throw out everything I ever learned in grade school? Who defines what a "planet" is anyway? It's just not fair. I've grown up knowing Pluto, loving it...Dreaming about the day when our technology could one day take us there. How can they just throw everything away like that?
Well, Pluto, you will always be a planet in my heart. Some scientists at Nasa can't determine your worth...and I, for one, am going to take a stand against this injustice! Let's stand up for Pluto and Pluto-kind.
...and that feeling lasted for about 5 minutes...until I recalled that the last time the planet Pluto had crossed my mind must have been back in grade school...
Oh well...no harm, no gain. I'm over it.
My day began exceptionally cheerfully. I awoke with a smile on my face...a rarity to say the least. I arrived at work with no major problems thus far in my day, and I signed on to my homepage at work, as is the norm for me. I always check the headlines and see what has been happening in the world. I have trouble with newspapers...they are too big and i always get them all mangled. There's no way for me to mess up a news website, though...so that is my source of choice.
As I scrolled through the top headlines covering various issues from the morning after pill, to crisis in the middle east, to terrorism, to vengeance for a young girls' alleged killer, one particular headline caught my eye:
Pluto Demoted
"Hmm," I thought. "I wonder if that has something to do with Disney. So I clicked and that's when my day started to grow sour.
The opening line of the story was all I needed to read. Pluto, the ninth planet in our solar system, has been downgraded to a dwarf planet.
My chest began to feel tight, and my breathing was becoming increasingly sporatic and uncontrolled. I felt a heaviness on my shoulders as I began to think about that poor, lonely planet, hanging out there on the edge of our solar system...too cold to support life, too dark to reveal its beauty...and I began to weep on the inside.
How could they do this? They can't just "decide" something is not a planet anymore! Are they just going to throw out everything I ever learned in grade school? Who defines what a "planet" is anyway? It's just not fair. I've grown up knowing Pluto, loving it...Dreaming about the day when our technology could one day take us there. How can they just throw everything away like that?
Well, Pluto, you will always be a planet in my heart. Some scientists at Nasa can't determine your worth...and I, for one, am going to take a stand against this injustice! Let's stand up for Pluto and Pluto-kind.
...and that feeling lasted for about 5 minutes...until I recalled that the last time the planet Pluto had crossed my mind must have been back in grade school...
Oh well...no harm, no gain. I'm over it.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Archives: What Did Rod Stewart Ever Do to Anyone?
August 24, 2006 - Thursday
Current mood: grateful
I have a bad habit...it could get me into a lot of trouble, actually. It is one that, when this particular thought enters my mind, it sets up camp and vows not to leave until I give it full attention. It eats at the fiber of my very existence, begging me, screaming at me, pleading, groveling...doing whatever is necessary to make me take note....It's getting my hair cut. What did you think?
Life can be fine one minute, and then a sideways glance in the mirror sets this world of follicle obsession into motion. It starts out innocently enough, "Wow. It's been a long time since I got my hair cut." Just a fleeting thought for the first few hours, until I see myself in the mirror again and think, "Wow. My hair looks really bad today." And then I begin sort of combing through it with my fingers (I know that when I begin the finger-comb, I've been had). My eyes suddenly begin to focus on everyone else's hair. From co-workers, to celbrities, to people I pass in the hallway...I think, "I like her hair." "Wow. That guy has a cool style." "Maybe I should try that." And then my trips to the mirror become more frequent. I begin imagining what my hair might look like short and spiky, or punky, or black or red...And the climactic culmination of the story, the defining moment that calls me into action. I return to the mirror for one more glance, "Oh my gosh, I think I have a mullet!"
For me this process began last Friday. I assumed no salons would be open Friday, so I resolved to hold myself off until Saturday. And Saturday morning, when I began calling places in the area, I forgot that I am in a large, metropolitan city, and Saturday hair appointments must be made weeks in advance. My friends tell me to go to Supercuts...I decided to wait a little longer.
And then Monday came...after realizing that Mondays are Sundays for salons...because Sundays are like Saturdays...because Saturdays are like Fridays and so on, I was still determined to achieve my makeover.
I remembered going to Wal-Mart to pick up a few necessities the previous weekend. I happened to glance in to the salon there, and took note that all the women working seemed to have very trendy, up to date, cute hair cuts. --Now, I know what you're thinking--but, bear with me. It was in the desperation of the moment, and I had been waiting an entire weekend wearing a mullet on my head.
So I walked into Wal-Mart around 8:00 Monday evening. The stylists I had seen Saturday were nowhere to be found. There were two people working that fateful night: a young girl in her early twenties, with very cute hair; and a large, forty-something man with a black, spiky pseudo-mullet (think, Rod Stewart minus the highlights). I calculated my options. The female stylist was blow-drying a woman's hair...that could take awhile. The male was almost done, and there was one person waiting ahead of me. Good. If everything went according to plan, I would be able to have the female stylist.
As I walked in to the salon, I stood in the lobby...I didn't know what to do and no one acknowledged me, so I just figured it must be because of my mullet. Then the man finished with his customer. And while I was still standing there, two little Latino boys approached the counter. The male stylist looked right past me and told the first little boy to come over to his chair. I then asked the Rod Stewart look-alike whether I should just go sit in the waiting area or what.
Rod kindly apologized and explained he didn't know I was waiting. He instructed me to sign in and they would be with me shortly. Little did he know that I was secretly vying for the female stylist...so I wasn't upset in the least. I told him, "Oh, that's okay. I know it won't take long to give those little boys their haircuts. I don't mind."
After the boys were finished, the Rod kindly approached me again and explained that he was scheduled to leave at 8:30. There was still one more gentleman waiting. Rod asked me if it was okay for the guy waiting to go ahead of me, since he just needed his hair buzzed, and then the female stylist would be with me as soon as possible. I was thinking this evening was all working in my favor...until the gentleman waiting smirked (and I would almost swear he kind of scoffed, too) and said, "Oh. I'm waiting for her," and motioned to the female stylist. My mind immediately began to race. "Come on, Nicole...Think of a quick solution. You don't want this mullet-man Rod Stewart guy cutting your hair...think...think...THINK."
"Oh...It's alright. I don't want to keep you. Why don't you just go, and I'll wait...really I don't mind," I said.
Rod responded by saying, "No. Come on. I'll stay late. Let me cut your hair. What style are you thinking about?"
"Well. I really don't want to keep you. I'm sure you have other things you could be doing, and I would hate to have to stay late to cut someone's hair."
"Is that the style you were thinking about?" he said as he pointed to the Snips 'N Styles 2002 book I had sitting in my lap.
"Uh...well...yeah...either that one or this one here. But, really, I don't mind waiting. I would hate to keep you from your plans tonight." I thought I would give it one last shot.
"Well, I would go with this one here (Rod pointed to one of the two hairstyles I had shown him.)...because your hair is kind of like mine (at this point, Rod began pointing to his hair and demonstrating how it was kind of wild and sticking every which way."
"Thanks." I thought. "Great...Now I already have a mullet...and I'm going to get my hair styled by another mullet-wearer...and he's going to give me an even bigger mullet than I already have because he thinks mullets are cool!" I politely smiled and looked at the female stylist...begging her to rescue me from my impending doom under the shears of Rod Stewart!
"Come on over. I'll stay late. You've been so patient with letting those kids go before you and everything. It's the least I could do. You deserve it."
"Are you sure?" This was my last ditch effort to save myself from another season of mulletdom.
"Yeah, yeah....Come on. Have a seat and keep that book open."
Well, as it turns out, Rod (whose actual name I will not disclose for protection purposes) is actually a decent stylist. There are a few problem areas I may have touched up somewhere, but I think the overall haircut is very cute. It's versatile. I can go curly for an "I just rolled out of bed, but still look cute because curly-haired people always look cute." look...or I can straighten it by either curling it under, for a sleek, sophisticated look (by far the most elegant, yet most difficult to execute), or I can go a little rocker-chick and flip up the back and wear it kind of messy (which is the easiest and cutest of all three options).
So, the lessons I learned were these:
1. A $12.50 haircut is just as good as a $45.00 one.
2. The mystery stylist who looks like Rod Stewart may have questionable taste in his own hair, but he is a fine stylist for others.
3. I need to stop trying to get out of potentially pride-crushing situations, and start rolling with the punches....it produces humility.
So the next time you're in Wal-Mart, think about stopping on in to the Smart Styles Salon. Don't knock it til you've tried it...and tell them i sent you.
Current mood: grateful
I have a bad habit...it could get me into a lot of trouble, actually. It is one that, when this particular thought enters my mind, it sets up camp and vows not to leave until I give it full attention. It eats at the fiber of my very existence, begging me, screaming at me, pleading, groveling...doing whatever is necessary to make me take note....It's getting my hair cut. What did you think?
Life can be fine one minute, and then a sideways glance in the mirror sets this world of follicle obsession into motion. It starts out innocently enough, "Wow. It's been a long time since I got my hair cut." Just a fleeting thought for the first few hours, until I see myself in the mirror again and think, "Wow. My hair looks really bad today." And then I begin sort of combing through it with my fingers (I know that when I begin the finger-comb, I've been had). My eyes suddenly begin to focus on everyone else's hair. From co-workers, to celbrities, to people I pass in the hallway...I think, "I like her hair." "Wow. That guy has a cool style." "Maybe I should try that." And then my trips to the mirror become more frequent. I begin imagining what my hair might look like short and spiky, or punky, or black or red...And the climactic culmination of the story, the defining moment that calls me into action. I return to the mirror for one more glance, "Oh my gosh, I think I have a mullet!"
For me this process began last Friday. I assumed no salons would be open Friday, so I resolved to hold myself off until Saturday. And Saturday morning, when I began calling places in the area, I forgot that I am in a large, metropolitan city, and Saturday hair appointments must be made weeks in advance. My friends tell me to go to Supercuts...I decided to wait a little longer.
And then Monday came...after realizing that Mondays are Sundays for salons...because Sundays are like Saturdays...because Saturdays are like Fridays and so on, I was still determined to achieve my makeover.
I remembered going to Wal-Mart to pick up a few necessities the previous weekend. I happened to glance in to the salon there, and took note that all the women working seemed to have very trendy, up to date, cute hair cuts. --Now, I know what you're thinking--but, bear with me. It was in the desperation of the moment, and I had been waiting an entire weekend wearing a mullet on my head.
So I walked into Wal-Mart around 8:00 Monday evening. The stylists I had seen Saturday were nowhere to be found. There were two people working that fateful night: a young girl in her early twenties, with very cute hair; and a large, forty-something man with a black, spiky pseudo-mullet (think, Rod Stewart minus the highlights). I calculated my options. The female stylist was blow-drying a woman's hair...that could take awhile. The male was almost done, and there was one person waiting ahead of me. Good. If everything went according to plan, I would be able to have the female stylist.
As I walked in to the salon, I stood in the lobby...I didn't know what to do and no one acknowledged me, so I just figured it must be because of my mullet. Then the man finished with his customer. And while I was still standing there, two little Latino boys approached the counter. The male stylist looked right past me and told the first little boy to come over to his chair. I then asked the Rod Stewart look-alike whether I should just go sit in the waiting area or what.
Rod kindly apologized and explained he didn't know I was waiting. He instructed me to sign in and they would be with me shortly. Little did he know that I was secretly vying for the female stylist...so I wasn't upset in the least. I told him, "Oh, that's okay. I know it won't take long to give those little boys their haircuts. I don't mind."
After the boys were finished, the Rod kindly approached me again and explained that he was scheduled to leave at 8:30. There was still one more gentleman waiting. Rod asked me if it was okay for the guy waiting to go ahead of me, since he just needed his hair buzzed, and then the female stylist would be with me as soon as possible. I was thinking this evening was all working in my favor...until the gentleman waiting smirked (and I would almost swear he kind of scoffed, too) and said, "Oh. I'm waiting for her," and motioned to the female stylist. My mind immediately began to race. "Come on, Nicole...Think of a quick solution. You don't want this mullet-man Rod Stewart guy cutting your hair...think...think...THINK."
"Oh...It's alright. I don't want to keep you. Why don't you just go, and I'll wait...really I don't mind," I said.
Rod responded by saying, "No. Come on. I'll stay late. Let me cut your hair. What style are you thinking about?"
"Well. I really don't want to keep you. I'm sure you have other things you could be doing, and I would hate to have to stay late to cut someone's hair."
"Is that the style you were thinking about?" he said as he pointed to the Snips 'N Styles 2002 book I had sitting in my lap.
"Uh...well...yeah...either that one or this one here. But, really, I don't mind waiting. I would hate to keep you from your plans tonight." I thought I would give it one last shot.
"Well, I would go with this one here (Rod pointed to one of the two hairstyles I had shown him.)...because your hair is kind of like mine (at this point, Rod began pointing to his hair and demonstrating how it was kind of wild and sticking every which way."
"Thanks." I thought. "Great...Now I already have a mullet...and I'm going to get my hair styled by another mullet-wearer...and he's going to give me an even bigger mullet than I already have because he thinks mullets are cool!" I politely smiled and looked at the female stylist...begging her to rescue me from my impending doom under the shears of Rod Stewart!
"Come on over. I'll stay late. You've been so patient with letting those kids go before you and everything. It's the least I could do. You deserve it."
"Are you sure?" This was my last ditch effort to save myself from another season of mulletdom.
"Yeah, yeah....Come on. Have a seat and keep that book open."
Well, as it turns out, Rod (whose actual name I will not disclose for protection purposes) is actually a decent stylist. There are a few problem areas I may have touched up somewhere, but I think the overall haircut is very cute. It's versatile. I can go curly for an "I just rolled out of bed, but still look cute because curly-haired people always look cute." look...or I can straighten it by either curling it under, for a sleek, sophisticated look (by far the most elegant, yet most difficult to execute), or I can go a little rocker-chick and flip up the back and wear it kind of messy (which is the easiest and cutest of all three options).
So, the lessons I learned were these:
1. A $12.50 haircut is just as good as a $45.00 one.
2. The mystery stylist who looks like Rod Stewart may have questionable taste in his own hair, but he is a fine stylist for others.
3. I need to stop trying to get out of potentially pride-crushing situations, and start rolling with the punches....it produces humility.
So the next time you're in Wal-Mart, think about stopping on in to the Smart Styles Salon. Don't knock it til you've tried it...and tell them i sent you.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Archives: True Beauty Comes From Without
August 2, 2006 - Wednesday
Current mood: enthralled
I just finished re-reading The Martyr's Song by Ted Dekker. It always serves as an important reminder of where my eyes are and where they need to be.
I have always struggled with issues of self image. Sometimes I get cocky...I start to compare myself to other women, "my eyes are prettier than hers." "she has a really bad complexion." "that girl has a better body, but I have a better face."
Other times I drill myself into the ground. "wow, i'm the fattest girl in this room" "don't even bother looking for any clothes in this store, they won't fit you" "i really look ugly today"
More recently, I have found myself with very poor self-esteem. My weight gain since college has left me feeling like I have been swallowed by a large, fleshly blob, and that nobody could ever possibly consider me attractive. I have gone back and forth with my self image for years now. Sometimes I am too in love with myself, and other times I despise myself. I have dieted before, but have never become overtly obsessed with it. But obsession has set in over the past couple of months. Being in Florida in the height of bikini season hasn't helped much, either. Questions keep pounding in my head. -how could i have gained so much? -why do i keep eating? -why is it so hard for me to stay disciplined? -would it hurt that much to skip one or two meals? Those girls in bikinis over there must think I am a disgusting pig. I wonder what the waiter will think if I order that. And every time I look in the mirror, I see Ugly staring back at me screaming, "How could you let yourself get like this? No man will ever find you attractive when you look like this! What's the point of even putting on make up or fixing your hair? It won't help that much"
So I avoid mirrors as much as possible. And I try to tell myself it doesn't matter. Society keeps telling me that outward beauty isn't important...only what's inside matters. But if that's the case, why are there so many highway billboards plastered with perfect looking blondes with their hair blowing in the wind just so? And why are there no heavy people on television...and if there are, they are always the butt of everyone's jokes (no pun intended)? And why does the chubby girl never get the guy at the end of the story? They're sending me a mixed message. I chalk it up to them wanting to get more ratings, so they put the prettier ones in the lead roles. And I begin my serach for inner beauty.
As I start to reflect on my own "inner", I am surprised by all of the dirt I must uncover before I find the true beauty. I am a person who is filled with anger, jealousy, comparison, judgment, condemnation, hatred, competitiveness. And I realize I'm ugly on the inside, too. My whole life I have been told to look inside myself to find true beauty, but beauty doesn't live there, either.
So I have decided (thanks to the help of Mr. Dekker's book) that to find my true beauty, I will have to look beyond myself. Nothing about me, in and of myself, is beautiful. I am a dirty, broken, groveling being in need of redemption. So I must look to the Creator of beauty itself, who, incidentally is also the Creator of me. If I can somehow manage to see myself in light of heaven, my true home, the way my Maker sees me, then and only then will I be able to embrace my own beauty.
--by the way, when I refer to heaven, I don't mean a place I'll be after I die...I mean living in God's presence. In the constant and eternal presence of His love and His glory. If I was created to be beautiful in that place, surely I can be beautiful in a place filled with sin and condemnation.
But how do I do that? How can I possibly see myself as God sees me?
I believe the answer lies in the way I see others. If I stop looking at others as pretty, ugly, skinny, fat, mean, nice, stupid, smart...and start seeing them as fellow Creations by God...If I stop labeling and start loving, then I wil begin seeing people through God's eyes of love. If I stop focusing on bikini girls and longing to be as thin as them, and start setting my eyes on their hearts. And as I begin to pour out my own love for others, maybe I will start to look a little different, too.
The source of any beauty I possess is God. And I'm not going to find it through extreme dieting and obsessive calorie counting, nor will I find it by gorging myself on apathy and fast food. I will see it if I become a reflection of God's beauty and love shining through me.
I would like to urge everyone to read this book. It is such a quick read, but so impactful.
So now when I look in the mirror, I still struggle a little. But I am slowly retraining my mind to wrap itself around the idea that my true beauty is held in the eyes of my Creator, who made that powerful and majestic ocean I can hear right now, and the firey and captivating sunset I watched earlier. And I'm not just beautiful on the inside, I'm breath taking to Him...physically. He loves to gaze upon my beauty. And I love to gaze upon His.
The next time you start to wonder about this societal dichotomy of inner and outward beauty...how we are fed such inconsistencies and watered-down messages by everything from tv, to advertisements, to people walking down the street...remind yourself that beauty is something that is beyond this world. God isn't limited to perfect hair and perfect curves. God isn't limited to an hour long drama. God isn't limited to porcelain skin and designer clothing. God is the Creator of beauty. Look to Him to find yours. Don't settle for anything less.
Current mood: enthralled
I just finished re-reading The Martyr's Song by Ted Dekker. It always serves as an important reminder of where my eyes are and where they need to be.
I have always struggled with issues of self image. Sometimes I get cocky...I start to compare myself to other women, "my eyes are prettier than hers." "she has a really bad complexion." "that girl has a better body, but I have a better face."
Other times I drill myself into the ground. "wow, i'm the fattest girl in this room" "don't even bother looking for any clothes in this store, they won't fit you" "i really look ugly today"
More recently, I have found myself with very poor self-esteem. My weight gain since college has left me feeling like I have been swallowed by a large, fleshly blob, and that nobody could ever possibly consider me attractive. I have gone back and forth with my self image for years now. Sometimes I am too in love with myself, and other times I despise myself. I have dieted before, but have never become overtly obsessed with it. But obsession has set in over the past couple of months. Being in Florida in the height of bikini season hasn't helped much, either. Questions keep pounding in my head. -how could i have gained so much? -why do i keep eating? -why is it so hard for me to stay disciplined? -would it hurt that much to skip one or two meals? Those girls in bikinis over there must think I am a disgusting pig. I wonder what the waiter will think if I order that. And every time I look in the mirror, I see Ugly staring back at me screaming, "How could you let yourself get like this? No man will ever find you attractive when you look like this! What's the point of even putting on make up or fixing your hair? It won't help that much"
So I avoid mirrors as much as possible. And I try to tell myself it doesn't matter. Society keeps telling me that outward beauty isn't important...only what's inside matters. But if that's the case, why are there so many highway billboards plastered with perfect looking blondes with their hair blowing in the wind just so? And why are there no heavy people on television...and if there are, they are always the butt of everyone's jokes (no pun intended)? And why does the chubby girl never get the guy at the end of the story? They're sending me a mixed message. I chalk it up to them wanting to get more ratings, so they put the prettier ones in the lead roles. And I begin my serach for inner beauty.
As I start to reflect on my own "inner", I am surprised by all of the dirt I must uncover before I find the true beauty. I am a person who is filled with anger, jealousy, comparison, judgment, condemnation, hatred, competitiveness. And I realize I'm ugly on the inside, too. My whole life I have been told to look inside myself to find true beauty, but beauty doesn't live there, either.
So I have decided (thanks to the help of Mr. Dekker's book) that to find my true beauty, I will have to look beyond myself. Nothing about me, in and of myself, is beautiful. I am a dirty, broken, groveling being in need of redemption. So I must look to the Creator of beauty itself, who, incidentally is also the Creator of me. If I can somehow manage to see myself in light of heaven, my true home, the way my Maker sees me, then and only then will I be able to embrace my own beauty.
--by the way, when I refer to heaven, I don't mean a place I'll be after I die...I mean living in God's presence. In the constant and eternal presence of His love and His glory. If I was created to be beautiful in that place, surely I can be beautiful in a place filled with sin and condemnation.
But how do I do that? How can I possibly see myself as God sees me?
I believe the answer lies in the way I see others. If I stop looking at others as pretty, ugly, skinny, fat, mean, nice, stupid, smart...and start seeing them as fellow Creations by God...If I stop labeling and start loving, then I wil begin seeing people through God's eyes of love. If I stop focusing on bikini girls and longing to be as thin as them, and start setting my eyes on their hearts. And as I begin to pour out my own love for others, maybe I will start to look a little different, too.
The source of any beauty I possess is God. And I'm not going to find it through extreme dieting and obsessive calorie counting, nor will I find it by gorging myself on apathy and fast food. I will see it if I become a reflection of God's beauty and love shining through me.
I would like to urge everyone to read this book. It is such a quick read, but so impactful.
So now when I look in the mirror, I still struggle a little. But I am slowly retraining my mind to wrap itself around the idea that my true beauty is held in the eyes of my Creator, who made that powerful and majestic ocean I can hear right now, and the firey and captivating sunset I watched earlier. And I'm not just beautiful on the inside, I'm breath taking to Him...physically. He loves to gaze upon my beauty. And I love to gaze upon His.
The next time you start to wonder about this societal dichotomy of inner and outward beauty...how we are fed such inconsistencies and watered-down messages by everything from tv, to advertisements, to people walking down the street...remind yourself that beauty is something that is beyond this world. God isn't limited to perfect hair and perfect curves. God isn't limited to an hour long drama. God isn't limited to porcelain skin and designer clothing. God is the Creator of beauty. Look to Him to find yours. Don't settle for anything less.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Archives: What's the Deal with "Random"? Can Someone Please Enlighten Me?
July 20, 2006 - Thursday
Current mood: annoyed
Has anyone else noticed lately the increase among the younger generation (meaning ages 12-21) of the frequency of use for the word "random"? It really annoys me.
When discussing a surprise birthday party, a young man told me "it was just really random. it was cool."
I often hear my young co-workers bantering about the events of their day, referring to certain occurrences as "it was so random."
They even use the word as an adjective to describe a person. "You're so random."
I have heard a girl as young as 10 call someone random, and admittedly wondered if she even knew the meaning of the word.
My own brother, when questioned about the sudden rise in popularity of the term said, "I don't know. I don't really say 'random' a lot. I just am random."
Here is how Webster's Dictionary defines the word:
Well, someone please tell me...why is it cool to be random? What is the determining factor for something being 'random'. Does it have to be completely unplanned, as in definition #1? And if so, then how can a person be 'random'...when we call a person 'random' are we making reference to the fact that they may have been the result of an unplanned pregnancy?
Since when is 'randomness' to be praised? What ever happened to planning and preparing for something and then executing it successfully. I am terrified that the popularity of this word among teenagers could be reflective of their outlook on life. What if, in 20 years, when these kids are running the world, they are still glorifying 'randomness'...and what if they, because of their love of the random, begin living their lives like the definition of the word? What if they go about their daily lives 'having no specific pattern, purpose, or objective?' What will happen to society at large?
It is time for the 'pre-random' generations to take a stand against the adoption of this term into teenage slang. I will single-handedly fight the battle against the random if I have to. My first combat move is to begin praising the planned, organized and structured elements of life. Instead of saying someone is 'random'...I will exclaim, "You are so structured!" Or when describing a particular occurrence, I will state, "It was so organized and predictible." I am calling us all to action. All of us who are 22 and above. There are more of us than there are of them. Let's unite and stand against what is about to happen to our youth!
I may have been slightly facetious for dramatic effect, but it really does get on my nerves.
Currently Listening To: Pretend You're Alive By Lovedrug
Current mood: annoyed
Has anyone else noticed lately the increase among the younger generation (meaning ages 12-21) of the frequency of use for the word "random"? It really annoys me.
When discussing a surprise birthday party, a young man told me "it was just really random. it was cool."
I often hear my young co-workers bantering about the events of their day, referring to certain occurrences as "it was so random."
They even use the word as an adjective to describe a person. "You're so random."
I have heard a girl as young as 10 call someone random, and admittedly wondered if she even knew the meaning of the word.
My own brother, when questioned about the sudden rise in popularity of the term said, "I don't know. I don't really say 'random' a lot. I just am random."
Here is how Webster's Dictionary defines the word:
random ( P ) Pronunciation Key (rndm)adj.
Having no specific pattern, purpose, or objective: random movements. See Synonyms at chance.
Mathematics & Statistics. Of or relating to a type of circumstance or event that is described by a probability distribution.
Of or relating to an event in which all outcomes are equally likely, as in the testing of a blood sample for the presence of a substance.
Well, someone please tell me...why is it cool to be random? What is the determining factor for something being 'random'. Does it have to be completely unplanned, as in definition #1? And if so, then how can a person be 'random'...when we call a person 'random' are we making reference to the fact that they may have been the result of an unplanned pregnancy?
Since when is 'randomness' to be praised? What ever happened to planning and preparing for something and then executing it successfully. I am terrified that the popularity of this word among teenagers could be reflective of their outlook on life. What if, in 20 years, when these kids are running the world, they are still glorifying 'randomness'...and what if they, because of their love of the random, begin living their lives like the definition of the word? What if they go about their daily lives 'having no specific pattern, purpose, or objective?' What will happen to society at large?
It is time for the 'pre-random' generations to take a stand against the adoption of this term into teenage slang. I will single-handedly fight the battle against the random if I have to. My first combat move is to begin praising the planned, organized and structured elements of life. Instead of saying someone is 'random'...I will exclaim, "You are so structured!" Or when describing a particular occurrence, I will state, "It was so organized and predictible." I am calling us all to action. All of us who are 22 and above. There are more of us than there are of them. Let's unite and stand against what is about to happen to our youth!
I may have been slightly facetious for dramatic effect, but it really does get on my nerves.
Currently Listening To: Pretend You're Alive By Lovedrug
Friday, June 30, 2006
Archives: Flying Tips for Superman
Friday, June 30, 2006
Archives: Flying Tips for Superman
June 30, 2006 - Friday
Current mood: curious
I just saw the new Superman movie tonight...I wasn't going to go, but my wonderful and gorgeous friends Ali and Kim talked me into it. I thought I would hate it, but I actually quite enjoyed myself. I'm taking my brother to see it sometime soon again.
But, I do have a few questions for the man himself.
1. Don't you think you'd get better trajectory if you flew with your hands open, palms facing down, rather than the closed fist thing you do? I just think it would be more convenient for steering purposes...You don't see birds flying with their wings folded up...they spread them out. But, then again, I suppose that wouldn't help with the rumors that you are gay...you aren't are you?
2. Which leads to my second question....When are you planning to come rescue me? (That man is a talk drink of water...amazing, only he wears a little too much makeup)
3. Does it bother you that Lois Lane's eyes are two different colors? (If you go see the movie, check it out...her left eye is blue and her right eye is brown...this is particularly noticeable in the hospital scene)
4. What's with the jerry curl? (My friends and I were discussing this...it must be the jerry curl that renders him unrecognizeable to the general public and anyone else who knows Clark Kent...Kim posed an interesting thought on this matter: he must take the time after ripping his clothes off in an elevator to slick back his hair and then delicately form the curl and place it just so on his forehead)
5. Have you ever considered moving to a rural farm community in, say, Iowa or something? It appears to me you would have fewer demands if you were to live in a less populated area.
I have also decided that, as amazing and masculine and sexy and heroic as Superman is, I would never want to be in a relationship with him...That guy is just too busy. I would never get to spend any time with him, unless I got myself hurt or kidnapped or something...and that's really a lot of trouble to go to just to see someone. But if Clark is ever around, he can give me a call.
The movie is excellent for anyone who wants to go see it...It may be a little scary for children under 10. But there's not any language, nudity or sex in it. There is some violence, though...just a fair warning, and it is also nearly three hours long, so be sure to sit near the aisle so you can get out for a potty break if you need to...My mistake tonight, I had to climb over a couple of elderly people about 20 minutes into the movie.
Archives: Flying Tips for Superman
June 30, 2006 - Friday
Current mood: curious
I just saw the new Superman movie tonight...I wasn't going to go, but my wonderful and gorgeous friends Ali and Kim talked me into it. I thought I would hate it, but I actually quite enjoyed myself. I'm taking my brother to see it sometime soon again.
But, I do have a few questions for the man himself.
1. Don't you think you'd get better trajectory if you flew with your hands open, palms facing down, rather than the closed fist thing you do? I just think it would be more convenient for steering purposes...You don't see birds flying with their wings folded up...they spread them out. But, then again, I suppose that wouldn't help with the rumors that you are gay...you aren't are you?
2. Which leads to my second question....When are you planning to come rescue me? (That man is a talk drink of water...amazing, only he wears a little too much makeup)
3. Does it bother you that Lois Lane's eyes are two different colors? (If you go see the movie, check it out...her left eye is blue and her right eye is brown...this is particularly noticeable in the hospital scene)
4. What's with the jerry curl? (My friends and I were discussing this...it must be the jerry curl that renders him unrecognizeable to the general public and anyone else who knows Clark Kent...Kim posed an interesting thought on this matter: he must take the time after ripping his clothes off in an elevator to slick back his hair and then delicately form the curl and place it just so on his forehead)
5. Have you ever considered moving to a rural farm community in, say, Iowa or something? It appears to me you would have fewer demands if you were to live in a less populated area.
I have also decided that, as amazing and masculine and sexy and heroic as Superman is, I would never want to be in a relationship with him...That guy is just too busy. I would never get to spend any time with him, unless I got myself hurt or kidnapped or something...and that's really a lot of trouble to go to just to see someone. But if Clark is ever around, he can give me a call.
The movie is excellent for anyone who wants to go see it...It may be a little scary for children under 10. But there's not any language, nudity or sex in it. There is some violence, though...just a fair warning, and it is also nearly three hours long, so be sure to sit near the aisle so you can get out for a potty break if you need to...My mistake tonight, I had to climb over a couple of elderly people about 20 minutes into the movie.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Archives: Don't See The Lakehouse Unless You're Planning on Being Confused for the Rest of Your Life
June 27, 2006 - Tuesday
Current mood: distressed
I went tonight to see The Lakehouse...the new film starring Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves...Sandra, I'm okay with, but I have never enjoyed a single film, talk show, interview, commercial, preview, photo, or anything else featuring Keanu.
But I decided to go for it. You never know, perhaps he picked up some thespian skills since the last time I saw him.
As I was sitting in the theater, partaking of this blockbuster film, certain thoughts kept running loose through my mind. Thoughts I could not control, thoughts that are still with me now, thoughts such as...
If you're writing letters to someone in the past and they are in the future, does that mean there is some other dimension of life going on around us? Is there a 'me' two years from now, living my life...and is there a 'me' two years ago living my same life? And how could the two dimensions ever intersect with each other? And if someone should happen to intersect, and try to make a change, such as to prevent an accident from happening, which dimension does it change? The future would have already been happening and the present is going on right now, so the only dimension that would be changed would be the past, right? And what's the benefit of that? And if the past changes, then how does that affect the future (or the present for those of us living in the future dimension of the past)? And why does Keanu Reeves always sound like he's still in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure no matter what type of role he is playing? And did that part of the movie occur in 2002, 2004, 2006? And did they get together in 2006 or 2008? And why didn't I think to bring a piece of gum with me after eating Fiesta Lime Chicken for dinner? And if people are messing around in the past dimension, do we realize it now in the future dimension? How does that affect our memories? Or perhaps we are not changing the future at all, but merely putting things into place so they can occur how they would have anyway...
This is why I can no longer watch films involving time travel and the like. I'm still obsessing over it. I can't figure it out. Maybe I'm just a little dim...or maybe I just need to remind myself that it's all just an imaginary story afterall.
If anyone else has seen this movie and understood it, or any other movie involving these past and present storylines, please enlighten me.
Current mood: distressed
I went tonight to see The Lakehouse...the new film starring Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves...Sandra, I'm okay with, but I have never enjoyed a single film, talk show, interview, commercial, preview, photo, or anything else featuring Keanu.
But I decided to go for it. You never know, perhaps he picked up some thespian skills since the last time I saw him.
As I was sitting in the theater, partaking of this blockbuster film, certain thoughts kept running loose through my mind. Thoughts I could not control, thoughts that are still with me now, thoughts such as...
If you're writing letters to someone in the past and they are in the future, does that mean there is some other dimension of life going on around us? Is there a 'me' two years from now, living my life...and is there a 'me' two years ago living my same life? And how could the two dimensions ever intersect with each other? And if someone should happen to intersect, and try to make a change, such as to prevent an accident from happening, which dimension does it change? The future would have already been happening and the present is going on right now, so the only dimension that would be changed would be the past, right? And what's the benefit of that? And if the past changes, then how does that affect the future (or the present for those of us living in the future dimension of the past)? And why does Keanu Reeves always sound like he's still in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure no matter what type of role he is playing? And did that part of the movie occur in 2002, 2004, 2006? And did they get together in 2006 or 2008? And why didn't I think to bring a piece of gum with me after eating Fiesta Lime Chicken for dinner? And if people are messing around in the past dimension, do we realize it now in the future dimension? How does that affect our memories? Or perhaps we are not changing the future at all, but merely putting things into place so they can occur how they would have anyway...
This is why I can no longer watch films involving time travel and the like. I'm still obsessing over it. I can't figure it out. Maybe I'm just a little dim...or maybe I just need to remind myself that it's all just an imaginary story afterall.
If anyone else has seen this movie and understood it, or any other movie involving these past and present storylines, please enlighten me.
Tuesday, March 7, 2006
Archives: Diaper Babies and Final Destinations
March 7, 2006 - Tuesday
Current mood: relieved
I have been struggling a lot lately with "God's will"...That is a term we throw around a lot as Christians, but I don't necessarily buy into the idea that God has one specific, fool-proof plan for your life and you have to figure out exactly what that is or you can't be "in His perfect will." That's too hard, and we're not robots. What about the freedom found in Christ? So, I was straightening shelves at the bookstore the other day...a feat which I hate to tackle, and often avoid until the last possible minute.
Understanding God's will: How to Hack the Equation Without Forumlas, was written by Kyle Lake. You may have heard about Kyle's tragic death. He was in a freak accident at a church service last fall, in which he was electrocuted and died. He left behind a wife and three small children, and a very large church in Texas, full of baffled believers.
That's not really too relevant to the book, though, although it does give kind of a different perspective on some of the things he says in there.
I'm not quite finished with the book yet, but I have learned two very important things...I'll try to explain them the best I can, using the examples I remember from Kyle.
Lesson 1: It's more about the journey than the destination.The first truth Kyle brought out in this book was that Christians get so caught up in "finding God's will for their lives". Well, do you think God's will is for you to have that one specific career? And then what? Then you've already accomplished His will, so you're sitting pretty for the rest of your life? We get way too focused on certain destinations or points in our lives. I've said all of this before. I am always looking forward to the next big step, as to when my life will really start. "Oh, when I move to Nashville, that's when my life will finally make sense." Or, "Once I get married and start a family, then I can really start living." Well, reaching a certain destination is never going to bring fulfillment or any sense of contentment. Know why? We weren't created for any specific destination on this earth. We we will not be perfectly fulfilled until we have reached our ultimate destination, which is being in the eternal presence of God. Life here on earth is more about the journey. We are not supposed to keep our eyes totally focused on whatever destination we are reaching for. If you are constantly looking into tomorrow, you miss everything that is happening in your life today. Just as we shouldn't dwell on the past, we also should not get ourselves so wrapped up in the future, that we neglect the present.
Lesson #2 God is our Father.In the second section of the book, Kyle uses a metaphor of God as our Father. A lot of people have a hard time with this metaphor, because of their family situations. Kyle explains that God our Father is not an absent, workaholic who neglects the children he has brought into this world, nor is he an overprotective father, who will not allow his children to grow up.
He uses an example of his daughter. At the time he was writing, his daughter was two. He explained that he and his wife never allowed little Avery to give her input for any decisions regarding her life. If they left the decisions up to her, she would just whine all the time for junk food and stay up late and run around naked. She was totally reliant upon them for her protection and her providence, to ensure that she would live a full and healthy life. He then said that when Avery was 16, this same parenting tactic would not work. He could not make all of Avery's decisions for her. She would have learned to rationalize and use logic and arguments and reasoning in order to make decisions for herself. He, as her father, would still offer his input, but he would trust that he had raised her in such a way that she would be able to make some decisions by herself by that point in her life. He also used the example of a child in college. The child calls his father and asks, "Father, what is your will for my college major?" The father replies, "Son, my will is for you to make your own decision, based on what you are interested in."
Doesn't it make sense that if God has created us for a journey, he would allow us to experience it, allowing us to make some stupid mistakes, but always being by our side to comfort us when we do? I think there's a lot more freedom in Christ than we realize. I'm not tied down to one specific career path, one specific location, maybe even one certain man I HAVE to marry. Life isn't about finding the next puzzle piece. It's about being on your journey, pleasing God, and learning new things every step along the way.
So that's what I've learned so far...You have to forgive me because my explanations weren't nearly as good as Kyle's...Hey! Maybe you should just go read the book for yourself.
Currently reading : Understanding God's Will: How To Hack The Equation Without Formulas By Kyle Lake Release date: 31 October, 2004
Current mood: relieved
I have been struggling a lot lately with "God's will"...That is a term we throw around a lot as Christians, but I don't necessarily buy into the idea that God has one specific, fool-proof plan for your life and you have to figure out exactly what that is or you can't be "in His perfect will." That's too hard, and we're not robots. What about the freedom found in Christ? So, I was straightening shelves at the bookstore the other day...a feat which I hate to tackle, and often avoid until the last possible minute.
Understanding God's will: How to Hack the Equation Without Forumlas, was written by Kyle Lake. You may have heard about Kyle's tragic death. He was in a freak accident at a church service last fall, in which he was electrocuted and died. He left behind a wife and three small children, and a very large church in Texas, full of baffled believers.
That's not really too relevant to the book, though, although it does give kind of a different perspective on some of the things he says in there.
I'm not quite finished with the book yet, but I have learned two very important things...I'll try to explain them the best I can, using the examples I remember from Kyle.
Lesson 1: It's more about the journey than the destination.The first truth Kyle brought out in this book was that Christians get so caught up in "finding God's will for their lives". Well, do you think God's will is for you to have that one specific career? And then what? Then you've already accomplished His will, so you're sitting pretty for the rest of your life? We get way too focused on certain destinations or points in our lives. I've said all of this before. I am always looking forward to the next big step, as to when my life will really start. "Oh, when I move to Nashville, that's when my life will finally make sense." Or, "Once I get married and start a family, then I can really start living." Well, reaching a certain destination is never going to bring fulfillment or any sense of contentment. Know why? We weren't created for any specific destination on this earth. We we will not be perfectly fulfilled until we have reached our ultimate destination, which is being in the eternal presence of God. Life here on earth is more about the journey. We are not supposed to keep our eyes totally focused on whatever destination we are reaching for. If you are constantly looking into tomorrow, you miss everything that is happening in your life today. Just as we shouldn't dwell on the past, we also should not get ourselves so wrapped up in the future, that we neglect the present.
Lesson #2 God is our Father.In the second section of the book, Kyle uses a metaphor of God as our Father. A lot of people have a hard time with this metaphor, because of their family situations. Kyle explains that God our Father is not an absent, workaholic who neglects the children he has brought into this world, nor is he an overprotective father, who will not allow his children to grow up.
He uses an example of his daughter. At the time he was writing, his daughter was two. He explained that he and his wife never allowed little Avery to give her input for any decisions regarding her life. If they left the decisions up to her, she would just whine all the time for junk food and stay up late and run around naked. She was totally reliant upon them for her protection and her providence, to ensure that she would live a full and healthy life. He then said that when Avery was 16, this same parenting tactic would not work. He could not make all of Avery's decisions for her. She would have learned to rationalize and use logic and arguments and reasoning in order to make decisions for herself. He, as her father, would still offer his input, but he would trust that he had raised her in such a way that she would be able to make some decisions by herself by that point in her life. He also used the example of a child in college. The child calls his father and asks, "Father, what is your will for my college major?" The father replies, "Son, my will is for you to make your own decision, based on what you are interested in."
Doesn't it make sense that if God has created us for a journey, he would allow us to experience it, allowing us to make some stupid mistakes, but always being by our side to comfort us when we do? I think there's a lot more freedom in Christ than we realize. I'm not tied down to one specific career path, one specific location, maybe even one certain man I HAVE to marry. Life isn't about finding the next puzzle piece. It's about being on your journey, pleasing God, and learning new things every step along the way.
So that's what I've learned so far...You have to forgive me because my explanations weren't nearly as good as Kyle's...Hey! Maybe you should just go read the book for yourself.
Currently reading : Understanding God's Will: How To Hack The Equation Without Formulas By Kyle Lake Release date: 31 October, 2004
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Archives: Adventures in Babysitting
February 21, 2006 - Tuesday
Current mood: crazy
This is a true story. The biography of a 23 year old girl, temporarily thrown into motherhood well before her time. The people are real, but the names have been changed to protect the identities of everyone involved.
It all started on a blustery Wednesday night in mid-February. There was an eery chill in the air and Nicola knew she was in for a stressful week. Her parents had decided to jaunt a few states over to Florida to watch the Daytona 500...A slight inconvenience, of course. But Nicola contemplated how her parents had provided and cared for her throughout her entire life, and she decided to comply with their request (that, and they really left her no choice). Wednesday night was rather uneventful. Her brother Mitchelo, finished his homework, took care of the animals, and retired for the evening. Nicola took care of some household chores, and prepared herself for her lovely day off tomorrow.
Thursday was wonderful. No problems. No major messes. Nicola began to think that perhaps this week wouldn't be so terrible afterall.
Friday morning, Mitchelo got ready for school, and Nicola groggily took him to his friend's house where he was to catch the bus for school. Nicola made sure she had plenty of time to get him there, but Mitchelo noticed the bus passing by on the way to his friend's house, and told Nicola that apparently the bus had come early that morning, and that she would have to drive him to school. They arrived back home, and Nicola resigned herself to the fact that she would not be resting anymore that morning, and about 10 minutes later, Mitchelo's friend Keitho called to ask Mitchelo why he wasn't there to catch the bus. Nicola wearily took Mitchelo and Keitho to school that morning, and as she was driving, Keitho explained that the bus driver drives past the house two times to go around the circle before actually stopping at his house. Nicola's brain was saying, "I told you so", but her mouth simply smiled.
When Saturday arrived, Nicola knew the remainder of the weekend, and into the next week, would be very taxing on her. For now she would be caring not only for young Mitchelo, but also for a bright young girl named Kristena and her teenage brother named Davido. She worked hard all day long, and then stood in the freezing cold temperatures to fill up her car with gas for the long and grueling journey that lay ahead of her in the following days.
The next two days were filled with entertaining children, preparing food, cleaning up after children, enforcing regulatory bath and shower times, and supervising calls to mommy and daddy.
From Saturday until Tuesday, Nicola drove over 150 miles, just around her small village. She had to continually travel back and forth between the house of Kristena and Davido and the house of Nicola and young Mitchelo. Mitchelo was requried to take care of all of his animals twice a day, which made for some very tiresome journeys through the vast countryside. Nicola would arise around 6:00 in the morning, and not lay her head to the pillow until approximately 12:30AM because she was busy cleaning, preparing for the next day, doing laundry, and writing in her online journals.
There were some tears, some tummy aches, and some wimpering calls to mommy, but through it all Nicola learned the joys and challenges of motherhood. She decided that she would never have children and probably never even get married...Either that, or she would simply not attempt to manage two households at once for a long time...
And they all lived happily ever after. The End.
Currently ListeningThe Mission BellBy Delirious?see related
Current mood: crazy
This is a true story. The biography of a 23 year old girl, temporarily thrown into motherhood well before her time. The people are real, but the names have been changed to protect the identities of everyone involved.
It all started on a blustery Wednesday night in mid-February. There was an eery chill in the air and Nicola knew she was in for a stressful week. Her parents had decided to jaunt a few states over to Florida to watch the Daytona 500...A slight inconvenience, of course. But Nicola contemplated how her parents had provided and cared for her throughout her entire life, and she decided to comply with their request (that, and they really left her no choice). Wednesday night was rather uneventful. Her brother Mitchelo, finished his homework, took care of the animals, and retired for the evening. Nicola took care of some household chores, and prepared herself for her lovely day off tomorrow.
Thursday was wonderful. No problems. No major messes. Nicola began to think that perhaps this week wouldn't be so terrible afterall.
Friday morning, Mitchelo got ready for school, and Nicola groggily took him to his friend's house where he was to catch the bus for school. Nicola made sure she had plenty of time to get him there, but Mitchelo noticed the bus passing by on the way to his friend's house, and told Nicola that apparently the bus had come early that morning, and that she would have to drive him to school. They arrived back home, and Nicola resigned herself to the fact that she would not be resting anymore that morning, and about 10 minutes later, Mitchelo's friend Keitho called to ask Mitchelo why he wasn't there to catch the bus. Nicola wearily took Mitchelo and Keitho to school that morning, and as she was driving, Keitho explained that the bus driver drives past the house two times to go around the circle before actually stopping at his house. Nicola's brain was saying, "I told you so", but her mouth simply smiled.
When Saturday arrived, Nicola knew the remainder of the weekend, and into the next week, would be very taxing on her. For now she would be caring not only for young Mitchelo, but also for a bright young girl named Kristena and her teenage brother named Davido. She worked hard all day long, and then stood in the freezing cold temperatures to fill up her car with gas for the long and grueling journey that lay ahead of her in the following days.
The next two days were filled with entertaining children, preparing food, cleaning up after children, enforcing regulatory bath and shower times, and supervising calls to mommy and daddy.
From Saturday until Tuesday, Nicola drove over 150 miles, just around her small village. She had to continually travel back and forth between the house of Kristena and Davido and the house of Nicola and young Mitchelo. Mitchelo was requried to take care of all of his animals twice a day, which made for some very tiresome journeys through the vast countryside. Nicola would arise around 6:00 in the morning, and not lay her head to the pillow until approximately 12:30AM because she was busy cleaning, preparing for the next day, doing laundry, and writing in her online journals.
There were some tears, some tummy aches, and some wimpering calls to mommy, but through it all Nicola learned the joys and challenges of motherhood. She decided that she would never have children and probably never even get married...Either that, or she would simply not attempt to manage two households at once for a long time...
And they all lived happily ever after. The End.
Currently ListeningThe Mission BellBy Delirious?see related
Wednesday, February 1, 2006
Archives: Do You Believe Those Who are Single are the Devil's Children?
February 1, 2006 - Wednesday
Current mood: aggravated
OK, on another website I frequent, I have been involved in a discussion about this article. Here's the link: http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001199.cfm
read it, then come back and let me know what you think!
My grandmother has a really bad habit. Well, she probably wouldn't consider it a bad habit, but me (along with all of her other grandchildren) are severely annoyed. We all know she is going to do it. If you're over the age of 16, and you're in her presence, you can count on it. She greets you, gives you a hug, tells you one of two things (you look nice, or "don't you ever wear makeup?"), spends some time in casual conversation, compliments you a little. And just when you think you've escaped it, these words flow forth from her mouth like molten lava from a volcano, "So, Nicole (or whichever grandchild she happens to be talking to), you got a boyfriend...yet?"
Now, my cousins and I have been able to come up with some pretty creative responses to this question. One said, "No, Mama, I've decided I'm not going to get married." I told her once, "No. No boys like me. No boys will ever like me. I've just resigned myself to that fact." But the one classic response that left her speechless came from my sister (it was indeed a proud moment in the family), "No, Grandma, I'm a lesbian"...I'm trying to come up with a response to top that for next time. Bless my Grandma's heart. She is a very young grandmother. Young in years, and young at heart. She is a beautiful woman, a fashionable dresser, and a loving and godly person, but she just doesn't get it. Things were different in her day. She was married at the ripe old age of 15. She had more than one child at the age of 20. That life was all she knew. So she thinks me and my cousins are all old maids, and we better find us a man before it's slim pickin's.
She doesn't realize that the world is different now. Just like the author of this article doesn't realize that times have changed since the Bible. I don't go out and sit by the well to wait for a man to ask me to water his camels. I don't wear a veil to church. I don't go out and work in the family fields all day. I don't keep silent so as not to disturb the men.
Over time, God has allowed women a little more freedom. Some may call this a curse, I count it a blessing. Call it whatever you want, we are not the same. And with this added freedom comes added responsibility. We are now able to participate in worship services. We can go out and have a good time with our friends. We can have jobs and receive good education. We can be scholars of the Bible and drive cars and live our lives and date (that's right, I said 'the d word').
In the world we live in right now, we would never dream of sending a 14 year old girl into marriage. That's what they did in the Bible, though. But what Ms. Maken doesn't realize is that girls were sent into marriage at such a young age because they lifted a huge financial burden from their families. One less mouth to feed, one less kid to watch. And a 14 year old girl would have already learned all the ins and outs about keeping house, caring for children, tending the animals, providing for a husband. Times have changed. It is perfectly fine for a woman to wait until she is in her 20's to get married.
And it's not because of superficial men. I know many young men who are living godly lives and trusting God for their futures. I know a lot of men who would say their dream is to be a good father and husband, and they're just waiting on God's providence. And it's not because of "sewing our wild oats". I have no proverbial oats to be sewn. I don't feel that I have to live a little before settling down. I don't have anything to prove to myself or others before I have a family. I can have fun without being stupid and compromising my values. And, most of all, it's not because poor pitiful me can't find a man who will have mercy on me and take me in. It's simply because times have changed.
The Bible still applies today, don't get me wrong. We don't throw out the Bible because our world is different. But I don't recall reading anywhere in the Bible that "Thou shalt marry by the ageth of 16 or forever be subject to a life of displeasing God"...It's not in there...not even in the King James version. Yes, people in the Bible were married at a young age. But many people in the Bible were shepherds, too. Many people were watchmen. Many people would allow strangers who were passing through town to come and stay at their houses overnight. Have you met a lot of shepherds or watchmen in your lifetime? I haven't. And I wouldn't dream of allowing a stranger into my home to spend the night. We have hotels for that. The world has changed. And so we can't live our lives exactly as the people lived in the Bible.
I am 23 years old. I do not have a husband or children, but I do have a steadily growing relationship with God. A relationship in which I can go to Him with my concerns (a husband is one of those concerns, but not the only one). A relationship in which I can use the spiritual gifts He has given me to serve Him out of love and commitment. It is also a relationship in which He blesses me and knows what is best, sometimes keeping me from the things I ask Him for because I am not ready for them yet. We know each other intimately. We know what the other one desires and likes, and we do certain things and take certain attitudes in order to please one another...out of love. Sounds like God has taught me a lot about marriage already, huh?
And to further continue my rant, I DO NOT have an 'unwanted status', thank you very much. There are plenty of men out there I could 'settle' for. There are plenty of men out there who are not compatible with me because of personality differences and such. There are plenty of men out there who would take me in a second, but I know they would not provide me or my family with the spiritual leadership I have been waiting for. And, I'm sorry folks, but if I can't get that, then marriage isn't worth it to me. And don't tell me that my way of life is unbiblical. I think it's unbiblical to whimsically rush into marriage without consciously pouring over it, bathing it in prayer and wise direction from mentors and God Himself. I think it's unbiblical to get married just so you can say you're married. Last time I checked, there was a passage by the prophet Isaiah that said, "Those that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength."You see, God and i have this arrangement. I don't worry about a thing, and I just believe that He will tell me when it's time to get married and start a family. I'm not going to allow a desire for a husband to consume my life. God CAN and DOES use me now, in my singleness, and he CAN and WILL use me when I'm married. So, maybe I am single by choice, but it's not by my own choice...It's God's choice. And I think He probably knows what's best for me. Can you tell I'm more than a little incensed over this article? Sorry if I sound a little angry, but I am.
My worth is not determined by my marital status. Would I like to someday be married? Of course! Do I spend some evenings alone wondering why others my age got married, and I'm still single? You bet! Do I fear that I may always be alone, and that there is no man for me? Yes. But, the beautiful thing is, that when I find myself surrounded by all of these concerns (and even some whispers from the enemy), God is consistently reminding me that I should trust Him. I refuse to take control of this situation by going out and finding me a man. He has never failed me before, and He loves me more than I could ever fathom. He will provide what I need when I need it...bottom line.
Currently listening : A Liturgy, A Legacy & A Ragamuffin Band By Rich Mullins Release date: 26 October, 1993
Current mood: aggravated
OK, on another website I frequent, I have been involved in a discussion about this article. Here's the link: http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001199.cfm
read it, then come back and let me know what you think!
My grandmother has a really bad habit. Well, she probably wouldn't consider it a bad habit, but me (along with all of her other grandchildren) are severely annoyed. We all know she is going to do it. If you're over the age of 16, and you're in her presence, you can count on it. She greets you, gives you a hug, tells you one of two things (you look nice, or "don't you ever wear makeup?"), spends some time in casual conversation, compliments you a little. And just when you think you've escaped it, these words flow forth from her mouth like molten lava from a volcano, "So, Nicole (or whichever grandchild she happens to be talking to), you got a boyfriend...yet?"
Now, my cousins and I have been able to come up with some pretty creative responses to this question. One said, "No, Mama, I've decided I'm not going to get married." I told her once, "No. No boys like me. No boys will ever like me. I've just resigned myself to that fact." But the one classic response that left her speechless came from my sister (it was indeed a proud moment in the family), "No, Grandma, I'm a lesbian"...I'm trying to come up with a response to top that for next time. Bless my Grandma's heart. She is a very young grandmother. Young in years, and young at heart. She is a beautiful woman, a fashionable dresser, and a loving and godly person, but she just doesn't get it. Things were different in her day. She was married at the ripe old age of 15. She had more than one child at the age of 20. That life was all she knew. So she thinks me and my cousins are all old maids, and we better find us a man before it's slim pickin's.
She doesn't realize that the world is different now. Just like the author of this article doesn't realize that times have changed since the Bible. I don't go out and sit by the well to wait for a man to ask me to water his camels. I don't wear a veil to church. I don't go out and work in the family fields all day. I don't keep silent so as not to disturb the men.
Over time, God has allowed women a little more freedom. Some may call this a curse, I count it a blessing. Call it whatever you want, we are not the same. And with this added freedom comes added responsibility. We are now able to participate in worship services. We can go out and have a good time with our friends. We can have jobs and receive good education. We can be scholars of the Bible and drive cars and live our lives and date (that's right, I said 'the d word').
In the world we live in right now, we would never dream of sending a 14 year old girl into marriage. That's what they did in the Bible, though. But what Ms. Maken doesn't realize is that girls were sent into marriage at such a young age because they lifted a huge financial burden from their families. One less mouth to feed, one less kid to watch. And a 14 year old girl would have already learned all the ins and outs about keeping house, caring for children, tending the animals, providing for a husband. Times have changed. It is perfectly fine for a woman to wait until she is in her 20's to get married.
And it's not because of superficial men. I know many young men who are living godly lives and trusting God for their futures. I know a lot of men who would say their dream is to be a good father and husband, and they're just waiting on God's providence. And it's not because of "sewing our wild oats". I have no proverbial oats to be sewn. I don't feel that I have to live a little before settling down. I don't have anything to prove to myself or others before I have a family. I can have fun without being stupid and compromising my values. And, most of all, it's not because poor pitiful me can't find a man who will have mercy on me and take me in. It's simply because times have changed.
The Bible still applies today, don't get me wrong. We don't throw out the Bible because our world is different. But I don't recall reading anywhere in the Bible that "Thou shalt marry by the ageth of 16 or forever be subject to a life of displeasing God"...It's not in there...not even in the King James version. Yes, people in the Bible were married at a young age. But many people in the Bible were shepherds, too. Many people were watchmen. Many people would allow strangers who were passing through town to come and stay at their houses overnight. Have you met a lot of shepherds or watchmen in your lifetime? I haven't. And I wouldn't dream of allowing a stranger into my home to spend the night. We have hotels for that. The world has changed. And so we can't live our lives exactly as the people lived in the Bible.
I am 23 years old. I do not have a husband or children, but I do have a steadily growing relationship with God. A relationship in which I can go to Him with my concerns (a husband is one of those concerns, but not the only one). A relationship in which I can use the spiritual gifts He has given me to serve Him out of love and commitment. It is also a relationship in which He blesses me and knows what is best, sometimes keeping me from the things I ask Him for because I am not ready for them yet. We know each other intimately. We know what the other one desires and likes, and we do certain things and take certain attitudes in order to please one another...out of love. Sounds like God has taught me a lot about marriage already, huh?
Instead of recognizing that many single women are victims because of the deficits in the present construct, we dismiss their unwanted status as simply "God's will." Today's singleness is not celibacy-induced kingdom work unaccommodating to family life. No, it's the result of choices and mistakes by both the individual and society. Today's singleness is either a lifestyle option or purely circumstantial; therefore, it is largely unbiblical.
And to further continue my rant, I DO NOT have an 'unwanted status', thank you very much. There are plenty of men out there I could 'settle' for. There are plenty of men out there who are not compatible with me because of personality differences and such. There are plenty of men out there who would take me in a second, but I know they would not provide me or my family with the spiritual leadership I have been waiting for. And, I'm sorry folks, but if I can't get that, then marriage isn't worth it to me. And don't tell me that my way of life is unbiblical. I think it's unbiblical to whimsically rush into marriage without consciously pouring over it, bathing it in prayer and wise direction from mentors and God Himself. I think it's unbiblical to get married just so you can say you're married. Last time I checked, there was a passage by the prophet Isaiah that said, "Those that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength."You see, God and i have this arrangement. I don't worry about a thing, and I just believe that He will tell me when it's time to get married and start a family. I'm not going to allow a desire for a husband to consume my life. God CAN and DOES use me now, in my singleness, and he CAN and WILL use me when I'm married. So, maybe I am single by choice, but it's not by my own choice...It's God's choice. And I think He probably knows what's best for me. Can you tell I'm more than a little incensed over this article? Sorry if I sound a little angry, but I am.
My worth is not determined by my marital status. Would I like to someday be married? Of course! Do I spend some evenings alone wondering why others my age got married, and I'm still single? You bet! Do I fear that I may always be alone, and that there is no man for me? Yes. But, the beautiful thing is, that when I find myself surrounded by all of these concerns (and even some whispers from the enemy), God is consistently reminding me that I should trust Him. I refuse to take control of this situation by going out and finding me a man. He has never failed me before, and He loves me more than I could ever fathom. He will provide what I need when I need it...bottom line.
Currently listening : A Liturgy, A Legacy & A Ragamuffin Band By Rich Mullins Release date: 26 October, 1993
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)