I loved and hated this book at the same time. Her writing was excellent, which made me hate the main character. I don't think an author can evoke such emotion from a reader without being extremely talented. I wanted to choke the mom in Bastard out of Carolina. I just wanted to shake Carrie, the main character here. She's a twenty-three year old recent college grad, engaged to her boyfriend of 8 years. She has decided her life is stifling her, she doesn't love Mike anymore, and she is sure there is more to life than this upper mid-west existence she's been suffering through since birth. And then Mike, to her great personal inconvenience, Mike dives from Clausen's Pier, breaks his neck, and becomes a quadriplegic. The rest of the novel is the struggle between her selfish, yet very real, (and if I'm honest, understandable) need to run screaming away from Mike and everyone else's expectations of her to stay and nurse him and, of course, marry him. In her private hell and probably because of it, she ends up hurting everyone who loves her. She doesn't lash out, though; it's more like emotional homicide in slow motion. She's indecisive, yet overly analytical, and can't stick with a decision once she makes one.
Packer was able to create an unlikeable main character, whom I found myself cheering for to do something, anything, and I'd stick by her. But, for crying out loud, DECIDE already. Just when I'd settle in with a decision she'd made, she'd up and change her fickle little mind. Packer made me want to like Carrie and I wanted to feel sympathetic toward her. In the end, I just couldn't. Not because she was struggling with leaving her quadriplegic boyfriend after the accident, but because she was whiney and, did I mention, indecisive. Brilliant writing to make me want to root for someone I didn't really like all that much.
I also think there's some meaning to the name Carrie. She's carrying the baggage of the relationship with Mike. She's carrying the memory of her dad. She's carrying the weight of the decision-ish she made regarding her relationship with Mike. We all carry stuff, at some point or another, but this girl doesn't seem to let ANYTHING go.
Stars: 4 out of 5
Rating: NC-17: liberal fornication (with some description), passing reference to gay relationships, a few uses of the F-word, great deal of alcohol consumption
Saturday, September 27, 2008
In a Funk
Have you ever been in a funk? Not a true depression, just a funk. I'm in a funk and I feel like my skin is on a little too tight. Stuff irritates me. Little stuff that usually doesn't. Ministry has been taking my husband away from me and I'm mad. I'm mad he's gone so much. I'm mad that other people cannot seem to make a decision without him. And I'm mad that I'm getting upset over it. It's a vicious cycle. He's gone to Men's Retreat this weekend. And he needs it, believe me. But Friday when he was getting ready to leave, I could just feel my skin shrinking around me. I was irritated at everything. I held it in because I didn't want him to leave with an unresolved fight and WE DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO HASH IT OUT. Story of my life. I don't have time for [insert anything fun here]. We've got to fix this. I sent him - are you ready for this? - an EMAIL to express myself. An email. I didn't even have a chance to actually speak to him. I didn't expect that he'd get it before he got back into work on Tuesday. But no, he checked his email at work before he met with his carpool. He calls me on his cell phone with all his carpoolers in the car. He starts the conversation like this: "I know we can't talk now, but I got your email." Wasn't this just what I was trying to avoid??!! I sort of thought he might get mad - ok, I was pretty sure he would be mad because one of the things I said in the email was that I felt like an afterthought in his life. But he turned the tables and said that he felt the same way. I squeaked out, "The afterthought part, too?" He ignored the question and said, "Take off half a day Monday. We'll get a sitter for Ethan and we're going out for the day. I'll call you when I get up there [to the retreat]." Click.
So here it is, Saturday night, home alone with the boys, just as funky (not in the cute fashionista way either) as I was before he left. Taking off half a day adds to my stress, but it needs to be done.
Girls, I need some prayer.
So here it is, Saturday night, home alone with the boys, just as funky (not in the cute fashionista way either) as I was before he left. Taking off half a day adds to my stress, but it needs to be done.
Girls, I need some prayer.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Who does God use?
I have been reading a book by Elizabeth George called "Women of the Bible". I was reading the chapters on Rahab when I was struck by something. Rahab was not a "good girl". She was a harlot. However, somewhere along the line she had heard about God and feared him, although I don't think anyone would say she knew him. So God used a harlot to accomplish his purposes - the Israelite spies hid and were able to go back to the rest of the Israelite soldiers and tell them their scouting report, which ultimately led to them taking Jericho for God's people. Rahab then married an Israelite and lived out the rest of her days in Jerusalem. And she became Jesus' great (times a lot) grandmother. A former harlot is in our Savior's lineage. Wow!
So here's what struck me - God used her when she was still a harlot. She was not redeemed until after she accomplished what God called her to do. God called her before she was even a believer. She had heard of "this God of the Israelites", but that was it.
I think that it's amazing that God can use anyone. Anyone. Even you. Even me.
So here's what struck me - God used her when she was still a harlot. She was not redeemed until after she accomplished what God called her to do. God called her before she was even a believer. She had heard of "this God of the Israelites", but that was it.
I think that it's amazing that God can use anyone. Anyone. Even you. Even me.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Psalm 15
This is one of my favorite passages of scripture.
Verse 1: Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?
In other words, "God, how do I get close to YOU?" And then He answers.
Verse 2: [S]he whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, and speaks the truth from [her] heart.
Read other parts of My love letter to you and see what types of behaviors are right in My eyes. Don't sugar coat things, but remember that "righteous" thing when you speak, too.
Verse 3: and has no slander on [her] tongue and who does [her] neighbor no wrong and casts no slur on [her] fellow[wo]man,
Don't gossip. Treat people fairly.
Verse 4: who despises a vile [wo]man but honors those who fear the LORD, who keeps [her] oath even when it hurts,
Stay away from wicked, shameful women and surround yourself with like-minded women who also love the LORD. Find yourself a Titus woman. And when you say you're going to do something, do it.
Verse 5a: who lends [her] money without usury and does not accept a bribe against the innocent.
Do not charge ridiculous interest rates if someone needs money. Exodus 23:8 says "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." If you get involved in bribes, then your righteousness will be called into question. The reward for righteousness is so precious, that you don't want to mess it up by being attracted by the love of materialism. Deuteronomy 16:19 says almost the same thing, except it says "a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise".
Verse 5b: [S]he who does these things will never be shaken.
Now I think that promise deserves a couple exclamation marks!! Notice it does NOT say "will never have pain" or "will never have trouble". It says that you won't be shaken. You will stand firm. Even if a storm rages, you who are righteous, truthful, trustworthy, edifying, honoring, faithful, and generous, will be held in the grip of God Himself.
Do those adjectives sound impossible? How in the world can I be all those things? Well, I can't. At least not on my own. But the One who holds me and you firm also gives us the strength to be all those things. He wouldn't call us to be something that He wouldn't equip us for.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 13:9.
Are you shaking today? Ask Him for His sufficient grace and His perfect strength. Call on our El Shaddai, the God Almighty, the God All-Sufficient. Turn this psalm into a prayer. Pray with me.
Lord, I want to dwell in your sanctuary. I want to live on your holy hill. Make my walk blameless. Help me to do what is righteous and to speak the truth from my heart. Remove slander and slurs from my tongue and help me to treat my neighbors fairly, especially with my words. Convict me regarding vile influences and show me other women who honor God to surround myself with. Teach me to limit my promises to those You want me to keep and give me the strength to keep those promises even when it hurts. Teach me to be generous to others and to close my ears to the bribes of man because I want to have wise eyes and to have righteous words fall from my lips. Hold me firm, Lord Jesus, that I might not be shaken.
In your precious Name,
Amen.
Verse 1: Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?
In other words, "God, how do I get close to YOU?" And then He answers.
Verse 2: [S]he whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, and speaks the truth from [her] heart.
Read other parts of My love letter to you and see what types of behaviors are right in My eyes. Don't sugar coat things, but remember that "righteous" thing when you speak, too.
Verse 3: and has no slander on [her] tongue and who does [her] neighbor no wrong and casts no slur on [her] fellow[wo]man,
Don't gossip. Treat people fairly.
Verse 4: who despises a vile [wo]man but honors those who fear the LORD, who keeps [her] oath even when it hurts,
Stay away from wicked, shameful women and surround yourself with like-minded women who also love the LORD. Find yourself a Titus woman. And when you say you're going to do something, do it.
Verse 5a: who lends [her] money without usury and does not accept a bribe against the innocent.
Do not charge ridiculous interest rates if someone needs money. Exodus 23:8 says "Do not accept a bribe, for a bribe blinds those who see and twists the words of the righteous." If you get involved in bribes, then your righteousness will be called into question. The reward for righteousness is so precious, that you don't want to mess it up by being attracted by the love of materialism. Deuteronomy 16:19 says almost the same thing, except it says "a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise".
Verse 5b: [S]he who does these things will never be shaken.
Now I think that promise deserves a couple exclamation marks!! Notice it does NOT say "will never have pain" or "will never have trouble". It says that you won't be shaken. You will stand firm. Even if a storm rages, you who are righteous, truthful, trustworthy, edifying, honoring, faithful, and generous, will be held in the grip of God Himself.
Do those adjectives sound impossible? How in the world can I be all those things? Well, I can't. At least not on my own. But the One who holds me and you firm also gives us the strength to be all those things. He wouldn't call us to be something that He wouldn't equip us for.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 13:9.
Are you shaking today? Ask Him for His sufficient grace and His perfect strength. Call on our El Shaddai, the God Almighty, the God All-Sufficient. Turn this psalm into a prayer. Pray with me.
Lord, I want to dwell in your sanctuary. I want to live on your holy hill. Make my walk blameless. Help me to do what is righteous and to speak the truth from my heart. Remove slander and slurs from my tongue and help me to treat my neighbors fairly, especially with my words. Convict me regarding vile influences and show me other women who honor God to surround myself with. Teach me to limit my promises to those You want me to keep and give me the strength to keep those promises even when it hurts. Teach me to be generous to others and to close my ears to the bribes of man because I want to have wise eyes and to have righteous words fall from my lips. Hold me firm, Lord Jesus, that I might not be shaken.
In your precious Name,
Amen.
Cardboard
Please take 8 minutes, I PROMISE it will be worth it, to watch this video.
Mine says:
Front - striving for perfection in my own power in order to be liked and accepted
Back - still learning that I am loved and accepted by a perfect God despite my imperfections
What is your cardboard testimony?
Mine says:
Front - striving for perfection in my own power in order to be liked and accepted
Back - still learning that I am loved and accepted by a perfect God despite my imperfections
What is your cardboard testimony?
Puddles and Bubbles
My boys were getting ready for the bath last night. Elijah, 5, went potty and then Ethan, 2.5 (not potty trained), saunters up to his brother and says "I go potty, too!" He stands in front of the toilet, widens his stance (genetic?), and attempts to aim. Now, the top of the toilet comes up to his belly-button, so he is essentially aiming at the floor. Which is not all that uncommon for the newly-potty-trained boy variety. Nor is it all that uncommon for veteran 30-something potty-ers of the male persuasion. I love Clorox wipes. So Ethan stands there, gives it a little shake, and, assuming this pee thing happens on demand, looks up at me and says, "It's no working. It's broken."
Today we're in the pool and Elijah squats down to push off of the step and passes gas. He says, like his mommy taught him, "Excuse me", followed by (not taught his mommy), "Did you see bubbles coming out of my bum, honey?"
Then we're getting out of the pool and Elijah is absolutely dancing with full bladder syndrome. I don't want him running through the house wet, so I tell him to go potty over in some dirt by our back slider. He hustles over there butt-naked and proceeds to do his business. When he's done, he looks over his shoulder at me and says "Did you see how big my puddle of pee is? I peed all the way to the wall, honey!"
What is it with boys/men and their bodily emissions?
Today we're in the pool and Elijah squats down to push off of the step and passes gas. He says, like his mommy taught him, "Excuse me", followed by (not taught his mommy), "Did you see bubbles coming out of my bum, honey?"
Then we're getting out of the pool and Elijah is absolutely dancing with full bladder syndrome. I don't want him running through the house wet, so I tell him to go potty over in some dirt by our back slider. He hustles over there butt-naked and proceeds to do his business. When he's done, he looks over his shoulder at me and says "Did you see how big my puddle of pee is? I peed all the way to the wall, honey!"
What is it with boys/men and their bodily emissions?
Friday, July 25, 2008
I'm it!!
Hey Friends,I got tagged! I am being tagged by Pamela at http://pinkshoelady.blogspot.com/ She has a great blog with thought-provoking questions. Go see her you will be blessed.
Here are the rules:1) Link to the person who tagged you (see above)
2) Post the rules on your blog (this is what you are now reading)
3) Write 6 random things about yourself (see below)
4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. (quick go look)
6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up (Hi Pamela)
6 Random Things about me...
1. I love Diet Coke (even though I am totally aware of its inherent evils).
2. I completed an Olympic-distance triathlon while pregnant with my first son.
3. I was the athletic trainer for the football and wrestling teams for the 10 years I taught in the classroom.
4. I met my husband on the internet (in the days waaaaay before match.com).
5. My grandfather married us in a bilingual ceremony (I had to say all the vows in Spanish too!)
6. I have 11 sisters-in-law and 11 brothers-in-law.
I am tagging...
1. Amy at http://livingablessedlife.blogspot.com/
2. Lindsey at http://lindseykane.blogspot.com/
3. Amelia at http://ameliahadley.blogspot.com
Lee's already been tagged. Those are all the bloggers I know. Amy, you'll have to help me, since you know more bloggers than I do.
Here are the rules:1) Link to the person who tagged you (see above)
2) Post the rules on your blog (this is what you are now reading)
3) Write 6 random things about yourself (see below)
4) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. (quick go look)
6) Let the tagger know when your entry is up (Hi Pamela)
6 Random Things about me...
1. I love Diet Coke (even though I am totally aware of its inherent evils).
2. I completed an Olympic-distance triathlon while pregnant with my first son.
3. I was the athletic trainer for the football and wrestling teams for the 10 years I taught in the classroom.
4. I met my husband on the internet (in the days waaaaay before match.com).
5. My grandfather married us in a bilingual ceremony (I had to say all the vows in Spanish too!)
6. I have 11 sisters-in-law and 11 brothers-in-law.
I am tagging...
1. Amy at http://livingablessedlife.blogspot.com/
2. Lindsey at http://lindseykane.blogspot.com/
3. Amelia at http://ameliahadley.blogspot.com
Lee's already been tagged. Those are all the bloggers I know. Amy, you'll have to help me, since you know more bloggers than I do.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Prayer Request from Renee Swope's blog
This is a prayer request from a reader of Renee's blog (link to your lower right). Please pray as you feel led and may your heart be sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit. I'd love to have you post your prayers here or on Renee's blog.
I want to seek your prayers for an opportunity I’ve been presented with to go to Israel with Tony Hooper. Tony is a former worship leader at Brownsville in Pensacola, FL. He is currently recording and gearing up to lead worship with Michael W. Smith for the upcoming Promise Keepers tour. He’s toured with many major acts in Christian music over the years and has a an absolutely on fire heart for Jesus.He and 9 others are going to stay at a ministry house on the Sea of Galilee in Tiberius. Each morning and evening will be spent in intercessory prayer and worship for the nation of Israel and for the upcoming U.S. elections. As musicians we will have a chance to spend some time with local musicians and worship leaders teaching and training them in their churches. As a team we will probably be leading worship in some Messianic churches.
The cost of the trip is going to be about $3000 depending on what it costs to get me to Atlanta. I don’t have $3000. I don’t have $30. That’s why I need your prayers. God has to bless this or I can’t go. I spent a great deal of time in prayer over this this morning and in tears I asked the Lord for help in making this happen. I’m extremely humbled by this. I’m not sure why this guy who has a great deal of friends and influence in places I could only imagine would invite me, a guy he hardly knows at all, to go on this trip with him. I can only think that the Lord is leading. Inside of 7 days I have to have a plane ticket paid for to secure my place. The Lord knows I will probably be the least talented in the group but I have a passion for Yeshua.
Thanks, Pastor Bob Headley
Director of Worship & Media Arts
Maranatha Assembly of God
I want to seek your prayers for an opportunity I’ve been presented with to go to Israel with Tony Hooper. Tony is a former worship leader at Brownsville in Pensacola, FL. He is currently recording and gearing up to lead worship with Michael W. Smith for the upcoming Promise Keepers tour. He’s toured with many major acts in Christian music over the years and has a an absolutely on fire heart for Jesus.He and 9 others are going to stay at a ministry house on the Sea of Galilee in Tiberius. Each morning and evening will be spent in intercessory prayer and worship for the nation of Israel and for the upcoming U.S. elections. As musicians we will have a chance to spend some time with local musicians and worship leaders teaching and training them in their churches. As a team we will probably be leading worship in some Messianic churches.
The cost of the trip is going to be about $3000 depending on what it costs to get me to Atlanta. I don’t have $3000. I don’t have $30. That’s why I need your prayers. God has to bless this or I can’t go. I spent a great deal of time in prayer over this this morning and in tears I asked the Lord for help in making this happen. I’m extremely humbled by this. I’m not sure why this guy who has a great deal of friends and influence in places I could only imagine would invite me, a guy he hardly knows at all, to go on this trip with him. I can only think that the Lord is leading. Inside of 7 days I have to have a plane ticket paid for to secure my place. The Lord knows I will probably be the least talented in the group but I have a passion for Yeshua.
Thanks, Pastor Bob Headley
Director of Worship & Media Arts
Maranatha Assembly of God
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Skylight Confessions
Skylight Confessions, by Alice Hoffman
I almost quit reading this book about a third of the way through. It's quirky, the main character is kind of flakey, and it's a fantasy-wrapped-up-in-reality type novel. I am not a fan of fantasy generally. However, as the book went on, the sadness, yet hopefulness, of the story itself grabbed me. Arlyn was such a dreamer and so into fate (or something) guiding her that I was having a hard time getting into it. But Meredith, although she believes in ghosts, was more grounded and she saved the novel for me. I don't personally believe in ghosts, but I did like the symbolism that Hoffman used to announce the presence of a ghost (broken dishes and soot). What had been burned was anybody's guess, but it seemed to me it was Arlyn's dreams, since she had her head in the clouds all the time, but didn't live long enough to see any of them come to fruition. I really disliked John - he was totally checked out of his family's lives and I just can't respect that.
They lived in a glass house (literally) and at first I thought that was totally hokey. But, I came to really appreciate what Hoffman was trying to say - a house can be made of glass, but the people living there, although obvious to neighbors, etc, can have no idea who each other is.
Hoffman has an unusual, but excellent, grasp of language and of sentence structure. Her writing style is unique, as is her voice. Subtle changes in both occurred as she focused on one character more than another, almost as if the narrator changed with a deeper look into one particular person or another.
If you read this, pay particular attention to Arlyn's hair color and her (then Blanca's) pearls. My heart broke for Arlyn's lost love - missed by hair, but then by her choice. That's another theme running through the novel - getting lost. It led to Arlyn and John finding each other, but their love was lost. Sam was lost from his mother's death forward. Blanca was lost her whole life, trying to fit in somewhere and never really knowing where that was. John - lost in his work and in himself and in so being lost, he lost his (first) family. Blanca may have found herself in Will, but the ending left us on a hopeful note, unsure of how the meeting of Blanca and Will might have gone. I usually like loose ends tied up in novels, but I actually liked how that meeting was left open. It provided hope that was (dare I say) lost throughout the rest of the novel.
Check out her website. www.alicehoffman.com. I haven't read anything else of hers, so I can't speak to them. Look at the "other writings" tab. I liked her essays and although I HATED Wuthering Heights when I read it in high school, she's almost convinced me to give it another go. I might actually fall in love with Heathcliff. The only other Heathcliff I've ever run across was Dr. Huxtable and I really liked him.
STARS: 3.5 out of 5
RATING: PG (affair alluded to, a few uses of the F-word [appropriate, in my opinion; that's how a ticked off teen would talk], drug use)
I almost quit reading this book about a third of the way through. It's quirky, the main character is kind of flakey, and it's a fantasy-wrapped-up-in-reality type novel. I am not a fan of fantasy generally. However, as the book went on, the sadness, yet hopefulness, of the story itself grabbed me. Arlyn was such a dreamer and so into fate (or something) guiding her that I was having a hard time getting into it. But Meredith, although she believes in ghosts, was more grounded and she saved the novel for me. I don't personally believe in ghosts, but I did like the symbolism that Hoffman used to announce the presence of a ghost (broken dishes and soot). What had been burned was anybody's guess, but it seemed to me it was Arlyn's dreams, since she had her head in the clouds all the time, but didn't live long enough to see any of them come to fruition. I really disliked John - he was totally checked out of his family's lives and I just can't respect that.
They lived in a glass house (literally) and at first I thought that was totally hokey. But, I came to really appreciate what Hoffman was trying to say - a house can be made of glass, but the people living there, although obvious to neighbors, etc, can have no idea who each other is.
Hoffman has an unusual, but excellent, grasp of language and of sentence structure. Her writing style is unique, as is her voice. Subtle changes in both occurred as she focused on one character more than another, almost as if the narrator changed with a deeper look into one particular person or another.
If you read this, pay particular attention to Arlyn's hair color and her (then Blanca's) pearls. My heart broke for Arlyn's lost love - missed by hair, but then by her choice. That's another theme running through the novel - getting lost. It led to Arlyn and John finding each other, but their love was lost. Sam was lost from his mother's death forward. Blanca was lost her whole life, trying to fit in somewhere and never really knowing where that was. John - lost in his work and in himself and in so being lost, he lost his (first) family. Blanca may have found herself in Will, but the ending left us on a hopeful note, unsure of how the meeting of Blanca and Will might have gone. I usually like loose ends tied up in novels, but I actually liked how that meeting was left open. It provided hope that was (dare I say) lost throughout the rest of the novel.
Check out her website. www.alicehoffman.com. I haven't read anything else of hers, so I can't speak to them. Look at the "other writings" tab. I liked her essays and although I HATED Wuthering Heights when I read it in high school, she's almost convinced me to give it another go. I might actually fall in love with Heathcliff. The only other Heathcliff I've ever run across was Dr. Huxtable and I really liked him.
STARS: 3.5 out of 5
RATING: PG (affair alluded to, a few uses of the F-word [appropriate, in my opinion; that's how a ticked off teen would talk], drug use)
Monday, July 14, 2008
Pride and Insecurity and Enough already!
They sound like this is an oxymoron, not so much. They are different, but just by degrees. I don't think I have pride in any one trait or talent, just pride in "myselfness", that I am able on my own. It's hard to say "I'm sorry" and "You're right" and really mean it. I've tried to hide from God (note to reader: it doesn't work - don't bother). I've tried to hide my bad traits and habits from others (note to reader - it works for a while, but it's exhausting; I don't recommend it). I have issues with perfection - perfect kids, perfect house, perfect marriage, perfect faith, perfect class, perfect faith, etc... My insecurity sounds like, "If I'm not perfect you won't like me. Oh, you won't like me anyway."
However, I find that the more transparent I become to myself, the more I can admit my depravity to God. Not that He doesn't know, but He can do something with it when I admit it. Otherwise, it gets locked in a closet somewhere, covered with dust, and He can't do anything with something I won't let go of. He can only work in me when I MOVE ME ASIDE! Which I can't do on my own anyway - He has to do it for me. For the first time in my life, transparency doesn't scare me. Not that I want to live in a glass house (seriously, it would scare off the neighbors), but in glass flesh so that who GOD is, is visible in me. I respect and value transparency in others. Finding it in myself, sensing my own depravity and grasping the fact that only God can give me anything worth being prideful about, is powerful. As Paul says, "If I must boast, I only boast in the things that show my weakness" (2 Cor 11:30) because that's where God is seen. Being transparent about my mistakes, sin, depravity makes Him visible. I can't do anything worthwhile without Him. No legacy, no nothing, unless He is in control. Looking in the mirror and seeing my own ickiness makes it possible for Him to be glorified.
Are transparency and authenticity the same thing? Maybe I'm just afraid that my real self isn't what my trumped-up, opaque self claims to be. But my real self is the one God made and is the one He is molding. My opaque self is my own shellacked and white-washed creation and I am no artist compared to God. Isn't His museum-caliber masterpiece so much more than this thrown-together pale imitation?
Hard to live out, though, huh? I'm protected behind my whitewash. I look good to passersby and even to myself if I don't dig too deeply. I'm vulnerable and more than a little nervous with my bare soul hanging out.
I'm afraid of not measuring up (to whom?)
I'm afraid of not being in the cool group. Still.
I'm afraid I will scare people away.
I'm afraid of not being enough (who decides when it's "enough"?).
But God lets us come to Him empty-handed. There is no "enough". And it's a good thing, too, because we'd wear ourselves out trying to reach that ephemeral "enough". And the accounting would be a nightmare.
So why aren't I, empty-handed, enough?
The crazy thing is, I am. Not in a prideful way, although pride sure rears up his ugly head in the most dichotomous way. I'm enough and I'm not proud.
I need to let God balance that teeter-totter for me and not make myself dizzy and sick running back and forth between "pride" and "insecurity".
He is enough. Period.
However, I find that the more transparent I become to myself, the more I can admit my depravity to God. Not that He doesn't know, but He can do something with it when I admit it. Otherwise, it gets locked in a closet somewhere, covered with dust, and He can't do anything with something I won't let go of. He can only work in me when I MOVE ME ASIDE! Which I can't do on my own anyway - He has to do it for me. For the first time in my life, transparency doesn't scare me. Not that I want to live in a glass house (seriously, it would scare off the neighbors), but in glass flesh so that who GOD is, is visible in me. I respect and value transparency in others. Finding it in myself, sensing my own depravity and grasping the fact that only God can give me anything worth being prideful about, is powerful. As Paul says, "If I must boast, I only boast in the things that show my weakness" (2 Cor 11:30) because that's where God is seen. Being transparent about my mistakes, sin, depravity makes Him visible. I can't do anything worthwhile without Him. No legacy, no nothing, unless He is in control. Looking in the mirror and seeing my own ickiness makes it possible for Him to be glorified.
Are transparency and authenticity the same thing? Maybe I'm just afraid that my real self isn't what my trumped-up, opaque self claims to be. But my real self is the one God made and is the one He is molding. My opaque self is my own shellacked and white-washed creation and I am no artist compared to God. Isn't His museum-caliber masterpiece so much more than this thrown-together pale imitation?
Hard to live out, though, huh? I'm protected behind my whitewash. I look good to passersby and even to myself if I don't dig too deeply. I'm vulnerable and more than a little nervous with my bare soul hanging out.
I'm afraid of not measuring up (to whom?)
I'm afraid of not being in the cool group. Still.
I'm afraid I will scare people away.
I'm afraid of not being enough (who decides when it's "enough"?).
But God lets us come to Him empty-handed. There is no "enough". And it's a good thing, too, because we'd wear ourselves out trying to reach that ephemeral "enough". And the accounting would be a nightmare.
So why aren't I, empty-handed, enough?
The crazy thing is, I am. Not in a prideful way, although pride sure rears up his ugly head in the most dichotomous way. I'm enough and I'm not proud.
I need to let God balance that teeter-totter for me and not make myself dizzy and sick running back and forth between "pride" and "insecurity".
He is enough. Period.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Prayer Request
So as it says over to your right, I have been praying about starting a Gather and Grow group at my church. I am also reading the book, mentioned to your right as well, by Melanie Chitwood. God has been gently and then (as I say, Are you sure?) not-so-gently nudging my heart to start a study for women based on this book instead. I also feel God pushing me (almost literally) to contact Melanie about that. So, would you pray about that with me? Thanks.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
No Sense of Direction
I have no sense of direction. I mean, NONE. I barely know which way is up; don't ask me where North is - I seriously have no idea. Even when the sun is setting, I can't find West. Seriously. My dad, on the other hand, could be dropped blindfolded into the middle of Omaha and find his way home. I, genes not withstanding, always park in the same spot at the grocery store so I don't lose my car.
I lived in the same house from the time I was nine months old until I left for college and I went to the same campus 7th-12th grades and I taught at that same high school for 5 years. I knew my way around the campus. I could tell you where any classroom was, the football field, the gym, the office, whatever. My directions to you would include words like "left", "right", "just past the...". Never "North" or "East". So one day in the middle of teaching the finer points of Biology to disinterested 16-year-olds, they were relieved to hear we were having a fire drill. Relieved is probably an understatement - perhaps estatic would better sum up their emotions. This was a drill as in practice, not as in fire alarm going off. This drill consisted of an automaton, oblivious to the entertainment needs of high school students, bullet-listing the places EACH teacher's class needed to report to once THEY WERE RELEASED, NOT RIGHT NOW. My class was to report to the goalpost at the North end of the football field. As was earlier mentioned, I could conduct a mistake-free tour of my campus. However, you can imagine my direction-impaired brain glitching at the mention of "North". Ah, I have an ace in the hole. Un-glitch. The interstate runs parallel to the football field. I know, because my father who has had to give me directions countless times (with a panicked phone call like "Dad, I'm at the corner of umm... Elm and umm... I think that says Patterson. I think I might be in Hemet. How do I get home?") told me that even interstates run East and West and odd interstates run North and South. This particular interstate is 8. Oh crap, that's an even interstate (let me check my math... yeah, evenly divisible by 2, dang, it's even) and that means there can't be a goalpost at the North end. Glitch. I am not a math teacher, but I do know parallel and across the cow pasture that surrounds our football field on three sides (yes, that makes us a peninsula in the middle of cow patties) is the interstate I have driven 3 million times. I know my house growing up is in East County and that I turned right to get on the freeway, so right must be East. Therefore, left, even I can figure out, is West. So how can my parallel-to-the-interstate football field have a goalpost at the North end?? Double-glitch.
All of this is running through my brain at a fevered pitch as I am trying to keep 10th graders from stampeding over me like so many elephants. They apparently know North, or at least Exit. I have to wonder, would I care where the North goalpost was if the building were really on fire? Wouldn't we all just trample over the top of each other without me first taking out my handy compass, everyone pausing politely for the teacher (as always) to determine which end of the football field was (I think haphazardly labeled) North, and following in a silent single file line to the chalked-off North end zone? But, I digress. This was just a drill - no actual flames were sighted during this broadcast. So, I did what I do in the case of my father not being home - follow someone who looks like they know where they're going. In this instance, the teacher across the hall. He has no classroom control, but he can tell North from his elbow, because he is not stopping to consult a map on his way out the door. I always thought classroom control trumped actual knowledge, but in this case, not so much. His sloths are meandering behind him in a quadruple-file wave. My little darlings know from single file, and are fortunately following me following him, who I hope does not turn to me to ask for directions to the football field. We make it to the field and back again (apparently my classroom is West of the football field - who knew?)
So I call my dad when I get home that night, confused and a little miffed, as I generally am when people in charge mess things up, wondering why the automaton referred to the North goalpost, when the (even, hence East-West) interstate runs parallel, for crying out loud, to the football field on the campus that I have been to every day for ELEVEN years (not in a row, but eleven years, nonetheless).
And my dad, in his patient, stifling-laughter, she's-lost-again voice, says after a long pause, "Didn't you ever notice the freeway turns about a half mile before the school and runs North-South for about 2 miles to get around the MOUNTAIN there?"
No, dad, sorry to say, I, in the billion times I have ridden in your car and driven in my own car on that stretch of freeway, have never noticed the 90 degree turn and the subsequent 2 miles of North-South driving, nor the next 90 degree turn to return my vehicle to the originally intended East-West route. The only thing I got from you, genetically, is my eye color and obviously no ability whatsoever to tell which direction those eyes are facing.
I lived in the same house from the time I was nine months old until I left for college and I went to the same campus 7th-12th grades and I taught at that same high school for 5 years. I knew my way around the campus. I could tell you where any classroom was, the football field, the gym, the office, whatever. My directions to you would include words like "left", "right", "just past the...". Never "North" or "East". So one day in the middle of teaching the finer points of Biology to disinterested 16-year-olds, they were relieved to hear we were having a fire drill. Relieved is probably an understatement - perhaps estatic would better sum up their emotions. This was a drill as in practice, not as in fire alarm going off. This drill consisted of an automaton, oblivious to the entertainment needs of high school students, bullet-listing the places EACH teacher's class needed to report to once THEY WERE RELEASED, NOT RIGHT NOW. My class was to report to the goalpost at the North end of the football field. As was earlier mentioned, I could conduct a mistake-free tour of my campus. However, you can imagine my direction-impaired brain glitching at the mention of "North". Ah, I have an ace in the hole. Un-glitch. The interstate runs parallel to the football field. I know, because my father who has had to give me directions countless times (with a panicked phone call like "Dad, I'm at the corner of umm... Elm and umm... I think that says Patterson. I think I might be in Hemet. How do I get home?") told me that even interstates run East and West and odd interstates run North and South. This particular interstate is 8. Oh crap, that's an even interstate (let me check my math... yeah, evenly divisible by 2, dang, it's even) and that means there can't be a goalpost at the North end. Glitch. I am not a math teacher, but I do know parallel and across the cow pasture that surrounds our football field on three sides (yes, that makes us a peninsula in the middle of cow patties) is the interstate I have driven 3 million times. I know my house growing up is in East County and that I turned right to get on the freeway, so right must be East. Therefore, left, even I can figure out, is West. So how can my parallel-to-the-interstate football field have a goalpost at the North end?? Double-glitch.
All of this is running through my brain at a fevered pitch as I am trying to keep 10th graders from stampeding over me like so many elephants. They apparently know North, or at least Exit. I have to wonder, would I care where the North goalpost was if the building were really on fire? Wouldn't we all just trample over the top of each other without me first taking out my handy compass, everyone pausing politely for the teacher (as always) to determine which end of the football field was (I think haphazardly labeled) North, and following in a silent single file line to the chalked-off North end zone? But, I digress. This was just a drill - no actual flames were sighted during this broadcast. So, I did what I do in the case of my father not being home - follow someone who looks like they know where they're going. In this instance, the teacher across the hall. He has no classroom control, but he can tell North from his elbow, because he is not stopping to consult a map on his way out the door. I always thought classroom control trumped actual knowledge, but in this case, not so much. His sloths are meandering behind him in a quadruple-file wave. My little darlings know from single file, and are fortunately following me following him, who I hope does not turn to me to ask for directions to the football field. We make it to the field and back again (apparently my classroom is West of the football field - who knew?)
So I call my dad when I get home that night, confused and a little miffed, as I generally am when people in charge mess things up, wondering why the automaton referred to the North goalpost, when the (even, hence East-West) interstate runs parallel, for crying out loud, to the football field on the campus that I have been to every day for ELEVEN years (not in a row, but eleven years, nonetheless).
And my dad, in his patient, stifling-laughter, she's-lost-again voice, says after a long pause, "Didn't you ever notice the freeway turns about a half mile before the school and runs North-South for about 2 miles to get around the MOUNTAIN there?"
No, dad, sorry to say, I, in the billion times I have ridden in your car and driven in my own car on that stretch of freeway, have never noticed the 90 degree turn and the subsequent 2 miles of North-South driving, nor the next 90 degree turn to return my vehicle to the originally intended East-West route. The only thing I got from you, genetically, is my eye color and obviously no ability whatsoever to tell which direction those eyes are facing.
When the Ground Turns in its Sleep
When the Ground Turns in its Sleep, by Sylvia Sellers-Garcia
REVIEW: This is a first novel by this author and I loved it. It has excellent writing and a unique story. A young American man's immigrant father dies and the young man is compelled to visit his father's homeland of Guatamala to learn about his parents' past. Nitido is mistaken by the people of his father's village as the new priest and he stays on in this role, thinking that he might get more information out of the people this way. He is not Catholic and is for sure not trained as a priest, but he does it anyway. I loved how the author wove an earlier episode with plagiarism when Nitido was in college with his life of plagiarism in the little village. It was a theme that I've never read before, born out in a whole novel. I also really liked how the title was explained - how time colors your view of events and how your perspective changes as you get older and hopefully wiser. The ground appears to be a certain color in the morning, a different color at midday, and then a darker, richer color as night falls and "the ground turns in its sleep". A great analogy, I thought, for the novel as a whole, and for Nitido specifically as he learns about his parents' past and matures himself as the story progresses. There was also an interesting undertone of spiritual warfare in the little Guatemalan village that Nitido visited that was alluded to, but I would like to have seen it more fully developed. I also was a bit disappointed in how Nitido dealt with another death of a person close to him, since his father's death sent him on a journey, both geographically and emotionally. The second death seemed like a footnote and his character seemed like a person who would have responded in some way to it.
I am looking forward to more of Sellers-Garcia's work.
STARS: 4.5 out of 5
RATING: PG (no inappropriate language or relationships)
FAVORITE QUOTES: "It came as a complete surprise: the idea that silences in Rio Roto could arise not only from secrecy but also from doubt."
"The stones [of your past] cannot be left behind; they fill your pockets, their added weight affecting slightly the manner of each new step." [Sadly and clearly, not a Christian.]
"It's because she altered my thinking that I can't see where her ideas end and mine begin. I don't know how it's possible to distinguish one from the other. I don't know what purpose it would even serve, when so many of the things we think about came from somewhere else. From this perspective, it's impossible to avoid being a compilation of stolen words and ideas."
[See the plagiarism theme?!!?]
REVIEW: This is a first novel by this author and I loved it. It has excellent writing and a unique story. A young American man's immigrant father dies and the young man is compelled to visit his father's homeland of Guatamala to learn about his parents' past. Nitido is mistaken by the people of his father's village as the new priest and he stays on in this role, thinking that he might get more information out of the people this way. He is not Catholic and is for sure not trained as a priest, but he does it anyway. I loved how the author wove an earlier episode with plagiarism when Nitido was in college with his life of plagiarism in the little village. It was a theme that I've never read before, born out in a whole novel. I also really liked how the title was explained - how time colors your view of events and how your perspective changes as you get older and hopefully wiser. The ground appears to be a certain color in the morning, a different color at midday, and then a darker, richer color as night falls and "the ground turns in its sleep". A great analogy, I thought, for the novel as a whole, and for Nitido specifically as he learns about his parents' past and matures himself as the story progresses. There was also an interesting undertone of spiritual warfare in the little Guatemalan village that Nitido visited that was alluded to, but I would like to have seen it more fully developed. I also was a bit disappointed in how Nitido dealt with another death of a person close to him, since his father's death sent him on a journey, both geographically and emotionally. The second death seemed like a footnote and his character seemed like a person who would have responded in some way to it.
I am looking forward to more of Sellers-Garcia's work.
STARS: 4.5 out of 5
RATING: PG (no inappropriate language or relationships)
FAVORITE QUOTES: "It came as a complete surprise: the idea that silences in Rio Roto could arise not only from secrecy but also from doubt."
"The stones [of your past] cannot be left behind; they fill your pockets, their added weight affecting slightly the manner of each new step." [Sadly and clearly, not a Christian.]
"It's because she altered my thinking that I can't see where her ideas end and mine begin. I don't know how it's possible to distinguish one from the other. I don't know what purpose it would even serve, when so many of the things we think about came from somewhere else. From this perspective, it's impossible to avoid being a compilation of stolen words and ideas."
[See the plagiarism theme?!!?]
Prodigal Summer
Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver
REVIEW: This book is similar enough to The Loop that I had a hard time liking it. Since I pretty much hold every book I read up to the measuring stick that is Nicholas Evans, this one had to fall short. As a biology teacher and lover of science in general, I really appreciated the discussion of insects, in particular moths, and other fauna and flora in the Appalachian Mountains where this story took place. The love story was not nearly as compelling as the love story in The Loop, although similar in that an older woman was having a love affair with a much younger man. The rift between farmers and wildlife lovers was not as deep as in The Loop and therefore the conflict resolution was not surprising or all that interesting. I love Kingsolver's writing, but just not as much as Evans's. The story wasn't as well-woven and I felt that there was one really potentially interesting loose end that wasn't tied up and I think could have been in a clever twist. There were 3 main characters whose relationships with each other were unclear at the beginning and of course the point of the novel was to weave their histories together until you saw how they were all inter-related. That was done well with two of the characters, but not with the third. He turned out to be sort of a supporting cast member and another character began to overshadow him a little bit. That didn't seem to be all that well-thought out. I did like that cantankerous, cataract-inflicted old guy, though. I also didn't think Nannie was explained from two of the main characters' point of view very well. She was obviously loved deeply by Deanna and barely tolerated by Garnett, but I walked away not liking her very much, more influenced by Garnett's feelings toward her. I wasn't pulled by Deanna's thoughts and feelings as much, although her character was a loner, so perhaps that was intentional. I did enjoy the description of spring coming to the mountain/valley area where they all lived and the undertone of sexual/reproductive drive among the animals, plants, and ultimately Deanna and Eddie. I thought that was very well-written in the first few chapters. There was also this strange conflict between Garnett and Nannie regarding creation and evolution and I thought that was left in a muddle and perhaps the author isn't real clear herself. There is an undercurrent of Christianity, like maybe the author is at least familiar with Christianity, but it's just a barely recognizable undercurrent; it's certainly not a main tenet of any of the characters.
STARS: 3.5 out of 5
RATING: PG
FAVORITE QUOTE: "She hadn't given up her love for luna after that, but she'd never forgotten, either, how a mystery caught in the hand could lose its grace."
REVIEW: This book is similar enough to The Loop that I had a hard time liking it. Since I pretty much hold every book I read up to the measuring stick that is Nicholas Evans, this one had to fall short. As a biology teacher and lover of science in general, I really appreciated the discussion of insects, in particular moths, and other fauna and flora in the Appalachian Mountains where this story took place. The love story was not nearly as compelling as the love story in The Loop, although similar in that an older woman was having a love affair with a much younger man. The rift between farmers and wildlife lovers was not as deep as in The Loop and therefore the conflict resolution was not surprising or all that interesting. I love Kingsolver's writing, but just not as much as Evans's. The story wasn't as well-woven and I felt that there was one really potentially interesting loose end that wasn't tied up and I think could have been in a clever twist. There were 3 main characters whose relationships with each other were unclear at the beginning and of course the point of the novel was to weave their histories together until you saw how they were all inter-related. That was done well with two of the characters, but not with the third. He turned out to be sort of a supporting cast member and another character began to overshadow him a little bit. That didn't seem to be all that well-thought out. I did like that cantankerous, cataract-inflicted old guy, though. I also didn't think Nannie was explained from two of the main characters' point of view very well. She was obviously loved deeply by Deanna and barely tolerated by Garnett, but I walked away not liking her very much, more influenced by Garnett's feelings toward her. I wasn't pulled by Deanna's thoughts and feelings as much, although her character was a loner, so perhaps that was intentional. I did enjoy the description of spring coming to the mountain/valley area where they all lived and the undertone of sexual/reproductive drive among the animals, plants, and ultimately Deanna and Eddie. I thought that was very well-written in the first few chapters. There was also this strange conflict between Garnett and Nannie regarding creation and evolution and I thought that was left in a muddle and perhaps the author isn't real clear herself. There is an undercurrent of Christianity, like maybe the author is at least familiar with Christianity, but it's just a barely recognizable undercurrent; it's certainly not a main tenet of any of the characters.
STARS: 3.5 out of 5
RATING: PG
FAVORITE QUOTE: "She hadn't given up her love for luna after that, but she'd never forgotten, either, how a mystery caught in the hand could lose its grace."
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Kari
An important and painful milestone just passed in my life: the first anniversary of my friend Kari's and her daughter Keira's deaths. I could list all of Kari's wonderful accomplishments and traits. It would take a really long time and a long list of awards and adjectives somehow seems to diminish the person she truly was. Suffice it to say, she personified the best in "teacher", "friend", and "Christian". These labels can mean many things, but on her, they were exemplary. I was honored to work along side her as a professional and to live beside her, however truncated, as her friend. Her memorial service was painfully beautiful and while I sobbed through the whole thing, was one of the most worshipful events I have ever experienced. My heart still breaks for Matt as he deals with the loss of both his wife and daughter, pain I can't even begin to imagine, and, if I am honest, don't even want to contemplate. I can say her name and I can see her name in my phone (still!) without tearing up, but the tears are just behind a thin veil; not visible at first pass, but not all that hard to conjure up either. I'm not ignoring the promise that was the life of a nearly-two-year-old. My chest contracts at the thought - my own baby boy is only 4 months younger than Keira and that whole thing is way too close to home to delve into. I am grateful that neither she nor Kari appeared to suffer and I am comforted by the fact that I will see them both again one day. I still miss you, dear friend. Until we meet again...
These are the lyrics to a hauntingly beautiful song by Kenny Chesney.
Who You'd Be Today
Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
I feel you everywhere I go.
I see your smile, I see your face.
I hear you laughing in the rain.
I still can't believe you're gone.
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today.
Would you see the world, would you chase your dreams
Settle down with a family?
I wonder what would you name your babies.
Some days the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you.
I know it might sound crazy.
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you.
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place.
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today.
Today, today, today
Today, today, today
Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know I'll see you again someday.
Someday, someday
These are the lyrics to a hauntingly beautiful song by Kenny Chesney.
Who You'd Be Today
Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
I feel you everywhere I go.
I see your smile, I see your face.
I hear you laughing in the rain.
I still can't believe you're gone.
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today.
Would you see the world, would you chase your dreams
Settle down with a family?
I wonder what would you name your babies.
Some days the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you.
I know it might sound crazy.
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you.
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place.
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today.
Today, today, today
Today, today, today
Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know I'll see you again someday.
Someday, someday
Friday, June 27, 2008
Just a thought...
My friend used to work at a place where she was required to change her computer log-in password on the first working day of every month. She prayed and then chose the name of someone that God had laid on her heart. She was then reminded to pray for him/her each time she logged in. I thought that was cool and wanted to pass on the suggestion for your own passwords and people to pray for.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
She Speaks
I'm sure there will be more to come as I continue to process and digest all that happened this weekend. Here are the answers to questions for my church's newsletter.
1. Was there a theme or specific topic for the conference (in addition to teaching the fundamentals of public speaking)?
No, but the personal theme I walked away with was "move me aside". Those three little words profoundly affected me and they are my prayer for this season. And I also find it ironic that I went to learn how to be a better public speaker and I walked away speechless. It's another example of how the glory of God is so overwhelming that it is impossible to open my mouth, much less argue with or question God. It's more like nodding dumbly and running off to do whatever he's asked me to do, asking him to equip me for it the whole time. It is truly all about him and I'm just clay. Yet, I'm chosen. It's humbling and glorious all at the same time. And hard to describe, obviously.
2. What was one of the most poignant and/or profound things you experienced with God during the conference?
I didn't realize it before I left, but I was still grieving deeply from our miscarriage. I would have told you before the conference that I was fine and that God healed me emotionally. However, God totally met me where I was. There was an event following a talk about doubt where we were asked to pray and ask God to reveal our innermost doubts to us. We were to write them down and then place them in a basket at the foot of the cross in the front of the room. I did that, but for some reason, as I knelt to pray, all I could think about was the miscarriage and how much I was still hurting about that. A woman on staff came up to pray with me and I told her that I had recently miscarried. She just put her arms around me and I sobbed from the depths of my soul. She then prayed and while I don't remember her specific words, she prayed for a long time and asked for healing and for God to touch my heart and to bring me restoration. She also asked God to surprise me with his hope. It was very powerful. There is a little more to the story, but this is getting long. The crux of the matter is that God met me there and that God moved through her prayers to bring me to a more whole place.
3. How will the tools you were equipped with help you in your walk with Christ? Your work at the church?
I was reminded again of the need for and the power of prayer. I was also reminded of the personal nature of God - how he is able to reach us as individuals and speak to us individually; even though we all heard the same person speaking, we all walked away with a different message from God. In terms of my work at the church, I feel humbled that God chose me to go to this conference and that he may have a ministry opportunity in store for me. I am a jar of clay and yet he chose me. That sends me to my knees and on my face in thanks and I am so excited to have him "move me aside and move in this place". Those are lyrics from a song that deeply touched me - they aren't my original words, but they are my heartfelt prayer.
4. What are three or four things you walked away from the conference with that you didn't know before?
How VITAL it is to cover every preparation and every speaking engagement with prayer, how to weave a story into a message, how to better research and prepare for a message, and how vital it is to have prayer warriors behind your preparation time and the actual speaking engagement, including what specific message to bring, as well as being sensitive to the Holy Spirit during the talk. And practice, practice, practice.
1. Was there a theme or specific topic for the conference (in addition to teaching the fundamentals of public speaking)?
No, but the personal theme I walked away with was "move me aside". Those three little words profoundly affected me and they are my prayer for this season. And I also find it ironic that I went to learn how to be a better public speaker and I walked away speechless. It's another example of how the glory of God is so overwhelming that it is impossible to open my mouth, much less argue with or question God. It's more like nodding dumbly and running off to do whatever he's asked me to do, asking him to equip me for it the whole time. It is truly all about him and I'm just clay. Yet, I'm chosen. It's humbling and glorious all at the same time. And hard to describe, obviously.
2. What was one of the most poignant and/or profound things you experienced with God during the conference?
I didn't realize it before I left, but I was still grieving deeply from our miscarriage. I would have told you before the conference that I was fine and that God healed me emotionally. However, God totally met me where I was. There was an event following a talk about doubt where we were asked to pray and ask God to reveal our innermost doubts to us. We were to write them down and then place them in a basket at the foot of the cross in the front of the room. I did that, but for some reason, as I knelt to pray, all I could think about was the miscarriage and how much I was still hurting about that. A woman on staff came up to pray with me and I told her that I had recently miscarried. She just put her arms around me and I sobbed from the depths of my soul. She then prayed and while I don't remember her specific words, she prayed for a long time and asked for healing and for God to touch my heart and to bring me restoration. She also asked God to surprise me with his hope. It was very powerful. There is a little more to the story, but this is getting long. The crux of the matter is that God met me there and that God moved through her prayers to bring me to a more whole place.
3. How will the tools you were equipped with help you in your walk with Christ? Your work at the church?
I was reminded again of the need for and the power of prayer. I was also reminded of the personal nature of God - how he is able to reach us as individuals and speak to us individually; even though we all heard the same person speaking, we all walked away with a different message from God. In terms of my work at the church, I feel humbled that God chose me to go to this conference and that he may have a ministry opportunity in store for me. I am a jar of clay and yet he chose me. That sends me to my knees and on my face in thanks and I am so excited to have him "move me aside and move in this place". Those are lyrics from a song that deeply touched me - they aren't my original words, but they are my heartfelt prayer.
4. What are three or four things you walked away from the conference with that you didn't know before?
How VITAL it is to cover every preparation and every speaking engagement with prayer, how to weave a story into a message, how to better research and prepare for a message, and how vital it is to have prayer warriors behind your preparation time and the actual speaking engagement, including what specific message to bring, as well as being sensitive to the Holy Spirit during the talk. And practice, practice, practice.
Bastard Out of Carolina
Bastard out of Carolina, by Dorothy Alison
REVIEW: To paraphrase my friend AH, rarely have I wanted to come through the pages of a novel and absolutely throttle one of the characters. But, oh my, how I wanted to hurt the mom in this story. This is the story of a preteen girl in about 1950s North Carolina, named Bone (real name, Ruth Anne). She was born out of wedlock, as the title implies, and she was from a desperately poor family. She had several aunts and uncles nearby, as well as her grandparents. The women were all overworked and chronically tired and the men were hard-drinkers and prone to violence. Bone had a younger sister with whom she had a similar relationship that she had with her countless cousins. The mother eventually remarries and Bone becomes the victim of his abuse, both physical and verbal. This book feels like a tree that has been planted in too-small a container. The roots get all twisted and turn back on themselves. That's how I felt about the plot. It was thick and twisted and very disturbing. I don't know for sure if the author was also a victim of abuse (websites imply as much), but she writes about it a painfully clear and truthful-sounding way.
RATING: R (the end is particularly disturbing)
STARS: 4.5 out of 5
SPOILER ALERT: Discussion follows with detail about the plot. Skip it if you think you might read this powerful story. This is a copy of an email I sent a friend after I read this book.
I finished reading this earlier. I loved the desperate, raw writing, while hating Glen and sometimes Anney. Its violence and deep love among the extended family members were juxtaposed, but almost mirror images in some ways. It's very complex and knotted and not easy to narrow it down to one feeling. I so wanted Bone to whack Glen with that big hook. I wondered why it never made another appearance after she "redeemed" herself at Woolworth. And then after all she'd been through to have her mama choose Glen over her and leave her with her aunt... I'm not sure anyone knew she had been raped, but certainly the beating (any one of them!) should have been enough for her mama to leave that guy in a heartbeat. And where the hell was Aunt Alma while Glen was beating the hell out of Bone? I loved her crazy aunts and uncles, as hard-scrabble as they all were and as relatively useless as the men were. I looked the author up online and one website said it was semi-autobiographical and another said that it was autobiographical (although obviously the names are changed, so I'm thinking semi is a better description). She was born in S Carolina and she is a lesbian. She was a National Merit Scholar and went to undergrad on a full ride and also has a master's in social work. It doesn't surprise me that it has at least some basis in truth, based on how raw and well-described Bone's emotions are. I also thought it was interesting that Shannon was described as an albino and her last name was Pearl. I guess you could dig into the meaning of that name too - irritating, but eventually became something beautiful (once totally covered up - in death?). Also interesting is how much Reese is left out of things - particularly Glen's abuse of Bone. Although, there is a slight implication that there might be more than meets the eye since at 8 she is masturbating too and acting like she's a superhero and being chased by monsters or whatever. Overall, I guess the desperation stands out. Anney desperate to provide for her girls and desperate to be loved. Well, all of their desperation to be loved, really. And Raylene says to Bone at the end about she has a crazy view of what love is. Well, duh, what with Glen telling her he loved her as he's beating her and then as he's raping her. They all wanted love, but didn't really know how to give it and didn't really know how to receive it. All in all, I liked it a lot, but I felt there were some missing pieces. Maybe that was intentional, though, since it's such a tightly written novel, full of so much complexity of the characters. I thought the writing was like roots of a plant grown in too-small a pot, where they get all tangled and wrapped around each other. Ok, that sounds kinda cheesy, but that's how I felt reading it, like they were all choking.
REVIEW: To paraphrase my friend AH, rarely have I wanted to come through the pages of a novel and absolutely throttle one of the characters. But, oh my, how I wanted to hurt the mom in this story. This is the story of a preteen girl in about 1950s North Carolina, named Bone (real name, Ruth Anne). She was born out of wedlock, as the title implies, and she was from a desperately poor family. She had several aunts and uncles nearby, as well as her grandparents. The women were all overworked and chronically tired and the men were hard-drinkers and prone to violence. Bone had a younger sister with whom she had a similar relationship that she had with her countless cousins. The mother eventually remarries and Bone becomes the victim of his abuse, both physical and verbal. This book feels like a tree that has been planted in too-small a container. The roots get all twisted and turn back on themselves. That's how I felt about the plot. It was thick and twisted and very disturbing. I don't know for sure if the author was also a victim of abuse (websites imply as much), but she writes about it a painfully clear and truthful-sounding way.
RATING: R (the end is particularly disturbing)
STARS: 4.5 out of 5
SPOILER ALERT: Discussion follows with detail about the plot. Skip it if you think you might read this powerful story. This is a copy of an email I sent a friend after I read this book.
I finished reading this earlier. I loved the desperate, raw writing, while hating Glen and sometimes Anney. Its violence and deep love among the extended family members were juxtaposed, but almost mirror images in some ways. It's very complex and knotted and not easy to narrow it down to one feeling. I so wanted Bone to whack Glen with that big hook. I wondered why it never made another appearance after she "redeemed" herself at Woolworth. And then after all she'd been through to have her mama choose Glen over her and leave her with her aunt... I'm not sure anyone knew she had been raped, but certainly the beating (any one of them!) should have been enough for her mama to leave that guy in a heartbeat. And where the hell was Aunt Alma while Glen was beating the hell out of Bone? I loved her crazy aunts and uncles, as hard-scrabble as they all were and as relatively useless as the men were. I looked the author up online and one website said it was semi-autobiographical and another said that it was autobiographical (although obviously the names are changed, so I'm thinking semi is a better description). She was born in S Carolina and she is a lesbian. She was a National Merit Scholar and went to undergrad on a full ride and also has a master's in social work. It doesn't surprise me that it has at least some basis in truth, based on how raw and well-described Bone's emotions are. I also thought it was interesting that Shannon was described as an albino and her last name was Pearl. I guess you could dig into the meaning of that name too - irritating, but eventually became something beautiful (once totally covered up - in death?). Also interesting is how much Reese is left out of things - particularly Glen's abuse of Bone. Although, there is a slight implication that there might be more than meets the eye since at 8 she is masturbating too and acting like she's a superhero and being chased by monsters or whatever. Overall, I guess the desperation stands out. Anney desperate to provide for her girls and desperate to be loved. Well, all of their desperation to be loved, really. And Raylene says to Bone at the end about she has a crazy view of what love is. Well, duh, what with Glen telling her he loved her as he's beating her and then as he's raping her. They all wanted love, but didn't really know how to give it and didn't really know how to receive it. All in all, I liked it a lot, but I felt there were some missing pieces. Maybe that was intentional, though, since it's such a tightly written novel, full of so much complexity of the characters. I thought the writing was like roots of a plant grown in too-small a pot, where they get all tangled and wrapped around each other. Ok, that sounds kinda cheesy, but that's how I felt reading it, like they were all choking.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Three-year-old boys, Tree Frogs, and Pee Pee
I wrote this in April of '07. This 3-year-old is now 5.
You know a fun thing about 3-year-olds? Sometimes they really really really want to wear big boy underwear. And then say they don’t have to go to the bathroom before you leave for the library. And then when you are on the sidewalk outside of the library, they stop walking and PEE right there on the sidewalk. Through their big boy underwear and their shorts and make a big puddle on the ground. And then proceed to walk through it. And then wonder why said boy and mother and little brother cannot go into the library and pick out books on tree frogs!
Imagine the ensuing fit on the way back to the car:
Dripping wet pee pee boy: But, honey [said boy calls his mother honey; another subject for another day] I want books about tree frogs.
Frustrated mother: Honey, we have to go home and get you changed.
DWPPB: I want books about tree frogs.
More frustrated mother: You are soaking wet and need dry clothes.
DWPPB: [crying, now] I don’t need dry clothes. Don’t hold my hand. I want books about tree frogs.
Three-year-olds are nothing if not determined and persistent. They often have no idea about anything happening around them, including soaking wet pee pee clothes and pee pee footprints being left behind them, if they are on the trail of something much more exciting, like tree frogs and the various books that have been written about them. They also do not understand why Diego sandals must be washed after traipsing through pee pee puddles. Or why little boys have to be washed after having soaking wet pee pee clothes stuck to them all the way home from the library we never actually entered. Febreze, while miraculous, only works on the car seat cover so that it does not have to be dismantled by the nearest mechanical engineer in order to be washed for the second time in a week (oh, this same 3-year-old had a poopy blow-out in the car seat just 3 days ago). They have not yet invented “Little Boy Antibacterial Febreze”. Believe me, when they do, I will be the first in line.
You know a fun thing about 3-year-olds? Sometimes they really really really want to wear big boy underwear. And then say they don’t have to go to the bathroom before you leave for the library. And then when you are on the sidewalk outside of the library, they stop walking and PEE right there on the sidewalk. Through their big boy underwear and their shorts and make a big puddle on the ground. And then proceed to walk through it. And then wonder why said boy and mother and little brother cannot go into the library and pick out books on tree frogs!
Imagine the ensuing fit on the way back to the car:
Dripping wet pee pee boy: But, honey [said boy calls his mother honey; another subject for another day] I want books about tree frogs.
Frustrated mother: Honey, we have to go home and get you changed.
DWPPB: I want books about tree frogs.
More frustrated mother: You are soaking wet and need dry clothes.
DWPPB: [crying, now] I don’t need dry clothes. Don’t hold my hand. I want books about tree frogs.
Three-year-olds are nothing if not determined and persistent. They often have no idea about anything happening around them, including soaking wet pee pee clothes and pee pee footprints being left behind them, if they are on the trail of something much more exciting, like tree frogs and the various books that have been written about them. They also do not understand why Diego sandals must be washed after traipsing through pee pee puddles. Or why little boys have to be washed after having soaking wet pee pee clothes stuck to them all the way home from the library we never actually entered. Febreze, while miraculous, only works on the car seat cover so that it does not have to be dismantled by the nearest mechanical engineer in order to be washed for the second time in a week (oh, this same 3-year-old had a poopy blow-out in the car seat just 3 days ago). They have not yet invented “Little Boy Antibacterial Febreze”. Believe me, when they do, I will be the first in line.
Pacifiers and Oxygen
My two-and-a-half year-old loves his pacifer. I mean LOVES his pacifier. If a scientist did some sort of analysis of his pacifiers, I would not be surprised to learn that his are made out of pure oxygen. Necessary for life. He falls asleep with one in his mouth and one in each hand. And if I put him down and forget the ones he holds: "More paci, please." Recently, he got very interested in playing with a truck and set his paci down on the table. Since my hubby and I are weakly trying to break Ethan of this pacifier habit, I thought I could get over there all stealth and steal that pacifier away. I actually managed to get the pacifier and put it in his room. He didn't even notice he didn't have his pacifier until about a half an hour later (this is AMAZING, by the way). He came up to me and said, "More paci more paci more paci" - just like that - no punctuation.
Do we ever do that with God? Get more interested in something else and set Him down somewhere? Forget that He's our source of oxygen? I know I do. I'll read or work out or talk on the phone or work or wash dishes or any number of distracting things. Not anything wrong with any of those activities, except that I've left Him out. Skipped my quiet time. Forgotten to pray before I start my day. And then at some point, I realize I've set Him down somewhere. And I run to my Bible or hit my knees and say "More, God. More, God. More, God." And, thankfully, He's only as far away as the words on my lips.
Do we ever do that with God? Get more interested in something else and set Him down somewhere? Forget that He's our source of oxygen? I know I do. I'll read or work out or talk on the phone or work or wash dishes or any number of distracting things. Not anything wrong with any of those activities, except that I've left Him out. Skipped my quiet time. Forgotten to pray before I start my day. And then at some point, I realize I've set Him down somewhere. And I run to my Bible or hit my knees and say "More, God. More, God. More, God." And, thankfully, He's only as far away as the words on my lips.
The Gypsy Storyteller
The Gypsy Storyteller by Thomas William Simpson.
REVIEW: This is one of the best books I have ever read. Simpson drew me in right away and held on to me until the last page. He created and developed characters that I had certain feelings about at the beginning of the novel and those feelings completely changed by the end of the novel. Without me even realizing it. It is a finely woven tale of love, betrayal, and love in spite of betrayal.
RATED: R
STARS: 5+ out of 5
REVIEW: This is one of the best books I have ever read. Simpson drew me in right away and held on to me until the last page. He created and developed characters that I had certain feelings about at the beginning of the novel and those feelings completely changed by the end of the novel. Without me even realizing it. It is a finely woven tale of love, betrayal, and love in spite of betrayal.
RATED: R
STARS: 5+ out of 5
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