It's 7:45 on my computer, which means that it's 9:45 where I'm at in Texas. After oodles of presents and twice as many calories, we're all cuddled up next to the fire watching Elf. A great end to a great day.
Just wanted to end my month-ish hiatus. Things have been slow around Esther, but it seems that new juices still aren't flowing. Been doing a lot of doing and haven't thought as much thinking. Perhaps the new year will bring in some new ponderings.
Merry Christmas :)
Monday, December 25, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Thanksgiving Pictures!
Let's get this party started!!
Me with the turkey, prepped and ready to go in the oven.
The next step is to call EVERYONE we know to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving, which of course requires the wearing of my "hot stuff" apron. I know...you're a little bit jealous...
Now I chop onions for the cornbread dressing...
...said onions make me cry.
Saute onions and celery, crumble the cornbread, and the dressing is almost done. Time for...
THE TURKEY!!
Justine is obsessed with the turkey, so she poses in her classy sweater dress as if she was actually going to do the carving...
...but that's my job.
Justine is in charge of stealing pieces of turkey once I'm done.
And I sneak a deviled egg before we finish setting the table.
.........Eating ensues........
Justine is dramatically finished and we decide to put all the food away before we eat any more.
I dump the turkey's remains into the trash--gross!! (bet you never knew I could make that face...sexy...)
And now it's time for a nap. A four-hour nap.
............The end.........
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Lady in Waiting?
One of our pastors at Shoreline, Scott, just got back from Uganda, where he and three other SoCal guys went to teach theology to a group of pastors there. Apparently, one of the more interesting (read: funny to share with the crew back home) conversations they had with those men was about dating--how they choose a wife versus what we do here. The advice of the Ugandan men to the single American guys of the group was--just pick one. Reactions to this from our lunch table varied--laughter, nodding, eyes rolling. One of the girls backed their idea with her parents' story: he was 30, he knew that she was a good Christian girl, they weren't really in love, but they got married anyway. When I chimed in with "that's sad," I was silenced by, "well, they're still together." Not silenced by the tone of response...but it really made me think. Just pick one?
Gut reaction: well of course that doesn't work here because women have a say in being picked, and whether that's good or bad or just different, it is what it is. Guys can't "just pick one" because the girl may very likely veto. Hence, dating is born. Now for arguments' sake, let's say that it would be better if our lives were like they were a hundred or so years ago when a man went to the father, bartered with cows and crops, and came home with a new bride. Maybe the problem, as someone suggested, is that we, as women, won't just go with the one who comes along to pick us--that we are always wondering if there's someone better out there...
Is the meaning of the title starting to click with you yet? Women raised in the conservative Christian church are well versed in the idea of patiently waiting for their Prince. After all, a "daughter of the King" should "guard her heart" because "true love waits," etc. etc. Now, these are great ideas--purity is commanded in the Bible and I don't think any of what we've been teaching young girls in the church is far from the mark. I'll be the first to attest to how learning this stuff personally kept me out of a good deal of trouble in Jr. High and High School, but my question is, then, how does this fit in with "just pick one"? On to the bigger question:
To wait or not to wait..?
First I should lay out some parameters for the hypothetical I'm working on. So you have a girl. For example's sake, let's call her "Meredith." Now Meredith knows several equally-qualified, good Christian guys. Let's call them "--ok maybe they can remain nameless...So Meredith is sitting around like a good Lady in Waiting--waiting on one of them to start pursuing. And when one of them does, one of the quality ones, should Meredith just go along with it? Is godliness the only qualification to consider? And even if attraction and common interests aren't important--how does Meredith go about deciding when someone is "godly enough?"
Awkward 3rd person references aside, how much is a girl supposed to wait for? If the man is supposed to "just pick one," then shouldn't we just say yes? Now, I haven't counted the number of question marks I've used so far today, but for fear that I might reach my per-post question-quota, I'll start working through some answers...
Answer #1: Clearly, the problem with our engagement process is that the bartering-with-the-father part has been cut out of the equation, so now we have to figure things out some other way--bartering becomes dating--and we want to know what a guy has to offer us before we agree to tie any knots.
Answer #2: This leaves us with new problems to consider: some of us suck at bartering. And there probably will ALWAYS be someone better out there somewhere. And unless I'm the only retarded girl in all of girlkind, it's not so simple to get the heart and mind to sync up...or the heart and mind to sync with his heart and mind...or any other awkward combination thereof. If we're going to be doing all this waiting, we better know what it is we are waiting for--and last time I checked, God's hand hadn't etched any names on my wall or anything like that, leaving me to trust in my limited wisdom, my gut feelings, advice from others and chance. Colmery's probably right about us not praying for what we really want because we fear it might be answered. I won't get a deposit back if there's a name mysteriously carved into whatever joke of a building material comprises the walls of my room. But, God, maybe a little less dramatically destructive form of revelation? I don't think I'll get charged for burning bushes since those are technically not our responsibility...
My Final Answer: If anyone wants to marry me, he can bring some goats over to my house in Texas and take it up with my dad. Or hey...I'll make it even easier and nominate Scott and Lara as my stand in parents (despite the fact that they are really only like 5 years older than me) and he can consult them for my asking price.
Which is 3 carats. And beachfront property. And a hot body. That likes to dance.
Ok maybe I do want just a little say in this...
Gut reaction: well of course that doesn't work here because women have a say in being picked, and whether that's good or bad or just different, it is what it is. Guys can't "just pick one" because the girl may very likely veto. Hence, dating is born. Now for arguments' sake, let's say that it would be better if our lives were like they were a hundred or so years ago when a man went to the father, bartered with cows and crops, and came home with a new bride. Maybe the problem, as someone suggested, is that we, as women, won't just go with the one who comes along to pick us--that we are always wondering if there's someone better out there...
Is the meaning of the title starting to click with you yet? Women raised in the conservative Christian church are well versed in the idea of patiently waiting for their Prince. After all, a "daughter of the King" should "guard her heart" because "true love waits," etc. etc. Now, these are great ideas--purity is commanded in the Bible and I don't think any of what we've been teaching young girls in the church is far from the mark. I'll be the first to attest to how learning this stuff personally kept me out of a good deal of trouble in Jr. High and High School, but my question is, then, how does this fit in with "just pick one"? On to the bigger question:
To wait or not to wait..?
First I should lay out some parameters for the hypothetical I'm working on. So you have a girl. For example's sake, let's call her "Meredith." Now Meredith knows several equally-qualified, good Christian guys. Let's call them "--ok maybe they can remain nameless...So Meredith is sitting around like a good Lady in Waiting--waiting on one of them to start pursuing. And when one of them does, one of the quality ones, should Meredith just go along with it? Is godliness the only qualification to consider? And even if attraction and common interests aren't important--how does Meredith go about deciding when someone is "godly enough?"
Awkward 3rd person references aside, how much is a girl supposed to wait for? If the man is supposed to "just pick one," then shouldn't we just say yes? Now, I haven't counted the number of question marks I've used so far today, but for fear that I might reach my per-post question-quota, I'll start working through some answers...
Answer #1: Clearly, the problem with our engagement process is that the bartering-with-the-father part has been cut out of the equation, so now we have to figure things out some other way--bartering becomes dating--and we want to know what a guy has to offer us before we agree to tie any knots.
Answer #2: This leaves us with new problems to consider: some of us suck at bartering. And there probably will ALWAYS be someone better out there somewhere. And unless I'm the only retarded girl in all of girlkind, it's not so simple to get the heart and mind to sync up...or the heart and mind to sync with his heart and mind...or any other awkward combination thereof. If we're going to be doing all this waiting, we better know what it is we are waiting for--and last time I checked, God's hand hadn't etched any names on my wall or anything like that, leaving me to trust in my limited wisdom, my gut feelings, advice from others and chance. Colmery's probably right about us not praying for what we really want because we fear it might be answered. I won't get a deposit back if there's a name mysteriously carved into whatever joke of a building material comprises the walls of my room. But, God, maybe a little less dramatically destructive form of revelation? I don't think I'll get charged for burning bushes since those are technically not our responsibility...
My Final Answer: If anyone wants to marry me, he can bring some goats over to my house in Texas and take it up with my dad. Or hey...I'll make it even easier and nominate Scott and Lara as my stand in parents (despite the fact that they are really only like 5 years older than me) and he can consult them for my asking price.
Which is 3 carats. And beachfront property. And a hot body. That likes to dance.
Ok maybe I do want just a little say in this...
Friday, November 24, 2006
Me, on the phone with my mom: "I'm like...a real woman!!"
Yes, friends, I have officially become a woman today. Yeah, that's right--I made my first turkey and it was AMAZING...if I do say so myself. Actually Justine says so as well, so you can take it up with her. Clearly, conquering a turkey completely validates my proficiency as a woman, and this means that I am now officially available for marriage proposals. (though I do recommend going through my Daddy first... Hey--I'm Southern. Whatcha gonna do?)
So this was my first Thanksgiving sans family (ok last year I wasn't with my fam either, but I had Inge and the rest of the Hergenrather crew as a worthy stand-in). Justine and I made plans for today's shin-dig, and in true Meredith/Justine fashion, we even dressed the part. Facebook will have the pictures soon enough, but let me just say that my trophy-wife attire made a re-appearance, only this time it included an apron, oven mitts, turkey and dressing, deviled eggs, and cranberry sauce. And honestly, I was perfectly in my element, dancing around the kitchen like a crazy person--waving knives, chopping onions, calling Mom and Dad and Neil and Grandmom... We made a ghetto/Christmas mix to set the mood and I just tried not to kill anyone. Justine was true to form as well. Perhaps my favorite moment of hers--classic Justine really--is the mental image of her in a fabulous, black sweater-dress and Aldo stilettos: with one hand she holds her cell phone to her ear, and the other grips a rolled issue of Vogue for dear life as she tries to kill a spider. I can still hear the squeals and screams. It was really so upper-middle class chic that I can hardly take it...ahh Justine.
Another perfect day of debauchery.
So this was my first Thanksgiving sans family (ok last year I wasn't with my fam either, but I had Inge and the rest of the Hergenrather crew as a worthy stand-in). Justine and I made plans for today's shin-dig, and in true Meredith/Justine fashion, we even dressed the part. Facebook will have the pictures soon enough, but let me just say that my trophy-wife attire made a re-appearance, only this time it included an apron, oven mitts, turkey and dressing, deviled eggs, and cranberry sauce. And honestly, I was perfectly in my element, dancing around the kitchen like a crazy person--waving knives, chopping onions, calling Mom and Dad and Neil and Grandmom... We made a ghetto/Christmas mix to set the mood and I just tried not to kill anyone. Justine was true to form as well. Perhaps my favorite moment of hers--classic Justine really--is the mental image of her in a fabulous, black sweater-dress and Aldo stilettos: with one hand she holds her cell phone to her ear, and the other grips a rolled issue of Vogue for dear life as she tries to kill a spider. I can still hear the squeals and screams. It was really so upper-middle class chic that I can hardly take it...ahh Justine.
Another perfect day of debauchery.
Monday, November 13, 2006
My Ladies
I just want to take a moment to brag about all of the incredible women in my life. Yesterday I was talking to a guy friend about a mutual friend of ours, also male, when the guy I was talking to began to tell me about "what a stud" our friend is. As he spoke, I wondered when I last praised a girlfriend of mine, either to her face or to someone else. It's a terrible shame that, as women, we rarely do that. Are we afraid that if we speak highly of another girl, it somehow takes away from our own "glory"? And what is our glory anyway? Those of you tempted to scoff and call this cheesy, please don't. I'm kind of in that boat right now as I try to write this...because I'm tired of people trying to heal my wounds with church catch-phrases that seem so dead before they are even voiced. But please read my honesty into this.
So, girls--yall should know that you are beautifully and wonderfully created by a God that wants to pursue and allure you in a way that you could never imagine--in a way that no man on this earth will ever be able to do. I am so blessed to have so many teachers and mentors--women who have taught me so much about godliness. Don't you dare let this world tell you that you have no value. You are worth so much more than the meager fairy-tales that life tells us to chase after.
Dad--Mom is quite the catch. You're a lucky guy. Neil, so are you. And the other Cooper/Johnson men--the ladies in our family are legit. What shining examples of the poise and beauty that died with the old South--those lost arts that these women exemplify...and the strength with which they support the people in their lives.
Men of Shoreline--I wonder sometimes if yall have any idea how incredible the women in our church are. I hope that you all get the opportunity to see firsthand their passion for the ministry God has allowed us to be a part of. I love seeing how eager these girls are to seek God and serve. And I can't tell you how often I've heard them speak of how they want to be better sisters to yall and learn to encourage yall.
My baby sister, my best girlfriends, and the women with whom I am lucky enough to interact--I don't tell yall enough that I love you. But I do. Our men are trying. And this world isn't perfect so they aren't ever going to quite get it right, but please remember that your worth isn't measured by their approval. Let them lead, pursue, and love you, ladies, because you do deserve to be loved in the way that God teaches men to love. More people should be bragging about how cool yall are. Because you are.
So, girls--yall should know that you are beautifully and wonderfully created by a God that wants to pursue and allure you in a way that you could never imagine--in a way that no man on this earth will ever be able to do. I am so blessed to have so many teachers and mentors--women who have taught me so much about godliness. Don't you dare let this world tell you that you have no value. You are worth so much more than the meager fairy-tales that life tells us to chase after.
Dad--Mom is quite the catch. You're a lucky guy. Neil, so are you. And the other Cooper/Johnson men--the ladies in our family are legit. What shining examples of the poise and beauty that died with the old South--those lost arts that these women exemplify...and the strength with which they support the people in their lives.
Men of Shoreline--I wonder sometimes if yall have any idea how incredible the women in our church are. I hope that you all get the opportunity to see firsthand their passion for the ministry God has allowed us to be a part of. I love seeing how eager these girls are to seek God and serve. And I can't tell you how often I've heard them speak of how they want to be better sisters to yall and learn to encourage yall.
My baby sister, my best girlfriends, and the women with whom I am lucky enough to interact--I don't tell yall enough that I love you. But I do. Our men are trying. And this world isn't perfect so they aren't ever going to quite get it right, but please remember that your worth isn't measured by their approval. Let them lead, pursue, and love you, ladies, because you do deserve to be loved in the way that God teaches men to love. More people should be bragging about how cool yall are. Because you are.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Pressure, Preaching....Au Pair?
Sorry to disappoint all of yall who have been waiting for my further thoughts on Sunday, but I really haven't had everything together this week like I had hoped. It figures, of course, that any time I start to think that life might slow down just long enough for me to catch my breath and catch up on a little blog-musing, I get slammed again. I shouldn't be surprised. I signed up for all of this--my school workload, my work workload...my other work's workload...
To finish up my sermon thoughts, I wanted to mention a couple of the other ideas we threw around on Monday night: how people often get apathetic about Jesus because he's not personal to them and my personal soapbox of late about how pathetically selfish I am--a revelation I really should have had a long time ago. Brian and Scott keep talking about how nothing is about us...it's about God. And I swear I'm listening and I think I'm applying all this stuff till I look up again and realize how far away I am from where I want to be. I want to be the kind of person who is never depressed because I am too focused on the blessings I have and how I can bless others. I want to be so overjoyed by others' success that I forget my own. It's funny how the basics are so simple...yet so frustratingly elusive. When it's been a week since I really sat down with God to read His word, I can't seem to understand why I've "lost" that passion to do so. Just the other day I spent an hour-ish in one of our campus cafes listening to worship music and writing out my prayers. As I glance over the words on those pages, why is it that they seem kind of foreign this morning? Maybe today is one of my more Israelite-esque moments. Last week I watched with awe as God brought me through sea after sea on dry ground...and today I'm packing up manna like it's my job--bread that I know is going to rot by tomorrow. I don't know if I'll ever remain permanently in the "personal" state with Jesus because I keep slipping back into apathy.
Ironically, though, I am also currently in this bizarre state of restlessness, and I hope it's not because of this that I seem to have hit on what I want to do next September when I am finished with school. I got this seemingly brilliant plan on Monday during my German class for how to get myself into the country, where I can be closer to my friends from Sprachcamp. I've played around with the idea of moving over there after graduation but was unsure how I would be able to get a job with barely conversational German skills. Then I realized that if I moved there as an au pair (live-in nanny), then not only would I be in the country, but I would get to play house-mom while I'm at it. What could be more perfect for me? I registered myself that night on a myspace-like website where families and potential au pairs can search each other's profiles and arrange details for a work contract. I want to do something crazy and I want to change the world and I want monumental adventures. So it seemed like a good idea at the time...
I want so badly to know deeply and shine brightly how personal and passionate Jesus is within me. I wish life always looked like seas parting, but I know somewhere in the back of my mind that waiting on new bread each morning is an equally great miracle.
Lord, au pair or not, teach me to delight in Your daily blessings, wait patiently on Your timing, and see each moment as the great adventure it is.
To finish up my sermon thoughts, I wanted to mention a couple of the other ideas we threw around on Monday night: how people often get apathetic about Jesus because he's not personal to them and my personal soapbox of late about how pathetically selfish I am--a revelation I really should have had a long time ago. Brian and Scott keep talking about how nothing is about us...it's about God. And I swear I'm listening and I think I'm applying all this stuff till I look up again and realize how far away I am from where I want to be. I want to be the kind of person who is never depressed because I am too focused on the blessings I have and how I can bless others. I want to be so overjoyed by others' success that I forget my own. It's funny how the basics are so simple...yet so frustratingly elusive. When it's been a week since I really sat down with God to read His word, I can't seem to understand why I've "lost" that passion to do so. Just the other day I spent an hour-ish in one of our campus cafes listening to worship music and writing out my prayers. As I glance over the words on those pages, why is it that they seem kind of foreign this morning? Maybe today is one of my more Israelite-esque moments. Last week I watched with awe as God brought me through sea after sea on dry ground...and today I'm packing up manna like it's my job--bread that I know is going to rot by tomorrow. I don't know if I'll ever remain permanently in the "personal" state with Jesus because I keep slipping back into apathy.
Ironically, though, I am also currently in this bizarre state of restlessness, and I hope it's not because of this that I seem to have hit on what I want to do next September when I am finished with school. I got this seemingly brilliant plan on Monday during my German class for how to get myself into the country, where I can be closer to my friends from Sprachcamp. I've played around with the idea of moving over there after graduation but was unsure how I would be able to get a job with barely conversational German skills. Then I realized that if I moved there as an au pair (live-in nanny), then not only would I be in the country, but I would get to play house-mom while I'm at it. What could be more perfect for me? I registered myself that night on a myspace-like website where families and potential au pairs can search each other's profiles and arrange details for a work contract. I want to do something crazy and I want to change the world and I want monumental adventures. So it seemed like a good idea at the time...
I want so badly to know deeply and shine brightly how personal and passionate Jesus is within me. I wish life always looked like seas parting, but I know somewhere in the back of my mind that waiting on new bread each morning is an equally great miracle.
Lord, au pair or not, teach me to delight in Your daily blessings, wait patiently on Your timing, and see each moment as the great adventure it is.
Monday, November 06, 2006
About the Sermon: Accepting Jesus as He Defines Himself
I absolutely adore my church. God has totally blessed my life with all of the people who have become my family at Shoreline. One of the things I have really enjoyed this semester is our women's Bible study, which meets on Monday nights to talk about the sermon from the day before. Between this and subscribing to our podcast (I love technology), I have been more consistant in carrying the message with me throughout the week.
So this week's sermon, via Brian Colmery, was quite a doosey (how do you spell that word??). We covered all of chapter 7 of the book of John, which is a lot of proverbial ground, making the sermon kind of thick. You can check it out on the website, although the end cuts out because of mic malfunction. One of the things I really appreciate and admire about Brian and Scott (our pastors) is that they are committed to teaching truth. So this week was awesome in that I learned a lot about what is really going on in the chapter. It's not some feel-good motivational speech, but actual truth, from the source. (Here a digression: I'm so over being spoon-fed a sermon. I want something that I have to chew. Maybe even some gristle here and there. As Christians, I think that we go to church for two primary functions: fellowship and teaching. We get to commune together as we also learn more about God. Now, I love a good faith, love, etc. talk every now and again, but why rely on funny stories and some random verses that are pulled out of context, when you could legitimately walk through the Bible (ie: the source). If I read the book of John on my own, there's no way I'd get as much out of it as I do on Sundays...because I don't know all the background, original text, etc. that would make it make sense. Yet at the same time, I've taken home Brian and Scott's messages each week this semester for some further mastication--having learned what the text says, I can work with God throughout the week to figure out how to make that truth a reality in the day-to-day) Ok--back to plain font. I was just finishing up my introduction about how fabulous Shoreline is, not because of anything we do, but out of the grace and blessing of the Lord (yeah, I've been listening to the sermons ;). Now on to my topic...
Brian intro-ed by talking about today's all-too-PC focus on identity: you know, all those cliche terms about "not putting on a mask," and accepting people for who they are. "No judgment." "Whatever works for you." The list goes on and on--and don't get me wrong, these aren't bad ideas--they are what they are...but just stay with me on this for a second...
Here Brian transitions (and beautifully I might add) from intro-anecdote to the main point. Like attention-getter-->bridge-->thesis in a by-the-book essay (sorry, I teach high school English). Throughout chapter 7, we see about 13 different responses to who Jesus is--all of which are people's assumptions or attempts to define Jesus on their own terms.
Here is where my mind, as it is infamous for, begins ticking--my logic follows that clearly the Pharisees and other stupid people living in Jesus day were not as mature, modern, and politically correct as we are today, since they failed to listen to Jesus define himself and take him as is. Just like the Israelites and Moses, it's easy for me to quickly condemn the Pharisees for their ignorant, close-minded behavior. Until I realize that I am EXACTLY like them, I tend to scoff at the nation who walks through a parted sea, then walks away from their Promised Land, thinking that the God who can part seas won't be powerful enough to drive out some 9-foot men. Yet this time I think I have a one-up on these just-like-us-today "back to the Bible" guys. Brian asks us, if Jesus were to come in today, would we accept him? In all likelihood, he'd be way outside our little box of what church people should be. Now this is where I start to get all gloaty about having the upper hand--I'm a theatre person. And as everyone knows, theatre people LOVE all that is weird, freakish, and odd. Now, the train of thought screeches to a halt. "But Meredith," says another of my inner voices, "You and I both know that people today are equally as crappy as back then, so there must be a catch." Indeed, that me is correct.
Lest you too should think that we're somehow cooler than the Pharisees for our open-mindedness, I shall explain. Granted, we probably would let Jesus define himself. We let everyone define themselves--but then we throw in this completely illogical catch: "whatever works for you...oh that's great...yes, that may be true for you, but..." I can be beautifully modern by accepting even the most vile people as they are...but I don't have to like them. Perhaps today we would let Jesus be Jesus, but that can't be where it stops. There are many people in my life who I accept exactly as they are...and then there are the people that I love for who they are.
Let Jesus be who he is...and love him for exactly that. His grace, his peace, his goodness, his power, his wrath. These must go hand in hand because accepting a person does not imply loving every quirk of their personality--their good qualities along with the flaws. While we are called to love despite the evil traits in others, we don't love those traits themselves. What's great is that with Jesus, there aren't any flaws, so we are able to love ALL of him.
On that note, see the next post...
So this week's sermon, via Brian Colmery, was quite a doosey (how do you spell that word??). We covered all of chapter 7 of the book of John, which is a lot of proverbial ground, making the sermon kind of thick. You can check it out on the website, although the end cuts out because of mic malfunction. One of the things I really appreciate and admire about Brian and Scott (our pastors) is that they are committed to teaching truth. So this week was awesome in that I learned a lot about what is really going on in the chapter. It's not some feel-good motivational speech, but actual truth, from the source. (Here a digression: I'm so over being spoon-fed a sermon. I want something that I have to chew. Maybe even some gristle here and there. As Christians, I think that we go to church for two primary functions: fellowship and teaching. We get to commune together as we also learn more about God. Now, I love a good faith, love, etc. talk every now and again, but why rely on funny stories and some random verses that are pulled out of context, when you could legitimately walk through the Bible (ie: the source). If I read the book of John on my own, there's no way I'd get as much out of it as I do on Sundays...because I don't know all the background, original text, etc. that would make it make sense. Yet at the same time, I've taken home Brian and Scott's messages each week this semester for some further mastication--having learned what the text says, I can work with God throughout the week to figure out how to make that truth a reality in the day-to-day) Ok--back to plain font. I was just finishing up my introduction about how fabulous Shoreline is, not because of anything we do, but out of the grace and blessing of the Lord (yeah, I've been listening to the sermons ;). Now on to my topic...
Brian intro-ed by talking about today's all-too-PC focus on identity: you know, all those cliche terms about "not putting on a mask," and accepting people for who they are. "No judgment." "Whatever works for you." The list goes on and on--and don't get me wrong, these aren't bad ideas--they are what they are...but just stay with me on this for a second...
Here Brian transitions (and beautifully I might add) from intro-anecdote to the main point. Like attention-getter-->bridge-->thesis in a by-the-book essay (sorry, I teach high school English). Throughout chapter 7, we see about 13 different responses to who Jesus is--all of which are people's assumptions or attempts to define Jesus on their own terms.
Here is where my mind, as it is infamous for, begins ticking--my logic follows that clearly the Pharisees and other stupid people living in Jesus day were not as mature, modern, and politically correct as we are today, since they failed to listen to Jesus define himself and take him as is. Just like the Israelites and Moses, it's easy for me to quickly condemn the Pharisees for their ignorant, close-minded behavior. Until I realize that I am EXACTLY like them, I tend to scoff at the nation who walks through a parted sea, then walks away from their Promised Land, thinking that the God who can part seas won't be powerful enough to drive out some 9-foot men. Yet this time I think I have a one-up on these just-like-us-today "back to the Bible" guys. Brian asks us, if Jesus were to come in today, would we accept him? In all likelihood, he'd be way outside our little box of what church people should be. Now this is where I start to get all gloaty about having the upper hand--I'm a theatre person. And as everyone knows, theatre people LOVE all that is weird, freakish, and odd. Now, the train of thought screeches to a halt. "But Meredith," says another of my inner voices, "You and I both know that people today are equally as crappy as back then, so there must be a catch." Indeed, that me is correct.
Lest you too should think that we're somehow cooler than the Pharisees for our open-mindedness, I shall explain. Granted, we probably would let Jesus define himself. We let everyone define themselves--but then we throw in this completely illogical catch: "whatever works for you...oh that's great...yes, that may be true for you, but..." I can be beautifully modern by accepting even the most vile people as they are...but I don't have to like them. Perhaps today we would let Jesus be Jesus, but that can't be where it stops. There are many people in my life who I accept exactly as they are...and then there are the people that I love for who they are.
Let Jesus be who he is...and love him for exactly that. His grace, his peace, his goodness, his power, his wrath. These must go hand in hand because accepting a person does not imply loving every quirk of their personality--their good qualities along with the flaws. While we are called to love despite the evil traits in others, we don't love those traits themselves. What's great is that with Jesus, there aren't any flaws, so we are able to love ALL of him.
On that note, see the next post...
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Restless
I hadn't listened really to this song since I got it on a burned CD at the end of last year...and what's so funny about it to me is that I don't really even aspire to go to New York, but for some reason this morning as I was listening to it on my way to work, I got this crazy urge to get back on the 10 and drive East to somewhere new. What I find so funny about myself is that I can't be content to save my life...and I'm not talking necessarily about being content with the things I have or relationships (although those are struggles too). What I mean is that any time I'm still for too long I start, I start to feel this aching to do something crazy--like go cliff jumping or sneak Bibles into a closed country. I don't like to feel trapped, and I especially hate feeling stagnant.
People keep asking me what I'm going to do when I graduate in August--and I do have a plan, but it doesn't look like so many people think it should. My advisor said I should visit a career counselor, apparently one of those great resources that connects me to the Trojan family so I can find those 40 thousand dollar contacts that I'm apparently paying for. Ashamedly, I didn't give her the strait answer about "what I want to do with my life." I guess I just wanted to avoid the awkwardness of trying to explain to her that having a career doesn't really matter to me. In fact, I don't really care much about what kind of job I have...I mean, I do want to work somewhere that I enjoy, but I have so many ideas of what that could look like. And even if I do hit on a dream job at some point, I'll probably still get restless within it. I enjoy change. I enjoy not knowing where I'll be next. And there really aren't any corporate ladders, or any other type for that matter, that I'm looking to climb. Mostly, I just have a list of things that sound cool.
This might be why I can't seem to stick around here in college for four years like everyone else. I've accomplished the school thing, and I'm ready to move on to something else. Now, something interesting to consider is how this relates to the Shampoo Theory. Wayy back in my archives, there is a post about how I can't commit: to shampoo, a hair color, etc, which is probably why I've never been able to commit to any guy. So does being restless mean I can't commit. I guess it would seem so. Of course the honest truth of the Shampoo theory (which by the way, I've had the same shampoo for quite some time now) is that it's only half-serious, and all joking aside, I know exactly who I want when it comes to guys. Right now, I guess God wants to teach me patience, a lesson that I've been learning since, like...birth. Will I get restless about that, too? Have I in the past? No...not really. Getting tired of a stagnant place in life is completely different than getting tired of a person...probably because people are constantly changing and growing. Learning a person is intrinsically adventurous. Perhaps there is hope for me yet :)
People keep asking me what I'm going to do when I graduate in August--and I do have a plan, but it doesn't look like so many people think it should. My advisor said I should visit a career counselor, apparently one of those great resources that connects me to the Trojan family so I can find those 40 thousand dollar contacts that I'm apparently paying for. Ashamedly, I didn't give her the strait answer about "what I want to do with my life." I guess I just wanted to avoid the awkwardness of trying to explain to her that having a career doesn't really matter to me. In fact, I don't really care much about what kind of job I have...I mean, I do want to work somewhere that I enjoy, but I have so many ideas of what that could look like. And even if I do hit on a dream job at some point, I'll probably still get restless within it. I enjoy change. I enjoy not knowing where I'll be next. And there really aren't any corporate ladders, or any other type for that matter, that I'm looking to climb. Mostly, I just have a list of things that sound cool.
This might be why I can't seem to stick around here in college for four years like everyone else. I've accomplished the school thing, and I'm ready to move on to something else. Now, something interesting to consider is how this relates to the Shampoo Theory. Wayy back in my archives, there is a post about how I can't commit: to shampoo, a hair color, etc, which is probably why I've never been able to commit to any guy. So does being restless mean I can't commit. I guess it would seem so. Of course the honest truth of the Shampoo theory (which by the way, I've had the same shampoo for quite some time now) is that it's only half-serious, and all joking aside, I know exactly who I want when it comes to guys. Right now, I guess God wants to teach me patience, a lesson that I've been learning since, like...birth. Will I get restless about that, too? Have I in the past? No...not really. Getting tired of a stagnant place in life is completely different than getting tired of a person...probably because people are constantly changing and growing. Learning a person is intrinsically adventurous. Perhaps there is hope for me yet :)
Dream Like New York
Tyrone Wells
So many dreams come and go
We blink our eyes time flies by and we don't know
Whatever happened to those childhood years
When we thought we could fly
Gotta keep those dreams alive
And dream like New York
As high as the skyline
Aim for the stars above those city lights
I wanna dream like New York
I'm running down Broadway
Gotta catch the next train
I'm making my way
I race to work again today
From nine to five I only strive to stay awake
But the child inside me dares to believe I still can fly
Can't let those dreams just die.
I gotta dream like New York
As high as the skyline
Aim for the stars above those city lights
I wanna dream like New York
I'm running down Broadway
Gotta catch the next train
I'm making my way
How many times have you tried and failed
Have you watched your dreams slip away
But every hero falls and every soldier crawls
And every dreamer dreams again
Gotta dream again
Go on and dream like New York
As high as the skyline
Aim for the stars above those city lights
Go on and dream like New York
You run on down Broadway
Catch the next train
And go make your way
Go on and dream like New York
As high as the skyline
Aim for the stars above those city lights
You gotta dream like New York
You run on down Broadway
Catch the next train
You go make your way
Go make your way...
Friday, November 03, 2006
This Weird Place
I've been meaning to write this week but I have floated around in such a bizarre state of mindsoul lately that I hadn't really come up with any ideas that I feel would make a valuable (read: appropriate to blog about) post. I think God is trying to do something in me right now, but I've yet to figure out what that is. Maybe there's something in the air...I dunno, but whatever it is that's going on...something about it isn't quite as it should be. I think.
See, I'm having trouble sleeping and my mind is constantly racing every which way--even more so than usual, and with an eerie sort of bent to it. Then there's my dreams...which span from watching a good friend of mine die to being hunted by who-knows-what in some sort of amusement park attraction-thing. (Actually, that last one would make a pretty freaky movie script if I felt inspired to write it down.) Not that having weird dreams is out-of-the-ordinary for me either...but all of this is on such an escalated scale that it's really throwing me off. You'll have to excuse my completely ineffective attempt to pin point what it is that I'm trying so hard to write about, but the bottom line is--something is amiss.
At the same time, though, I have enjoyed how this uncomfortability has prompted me to pray more...and I'm listening to Shane and Shane on my iTunes like it's my job. It's like--I feel like something big is about to happen or is happening. And it kind of scares me, but at the same time it is really wonderful to yearn for God in this way. I really wish that my attitude were like this more often. Granted, my prayers feel so repetitive that they even bore me sometimes, but there is a fervency about them that I wish would manifest on a more regular basis.
Anyways, I shall keep you posted if I have any grand epiphanies.
See, I'm having trouble sleeping and my mind is constantly racing every which way--even more so than usual, and with an eerie sort of bent to it. Then there's my dreams...which span from watching a good friend of mine die to being hunted by who-knows-what in some sort of amusement park attraction-thing. (Actually, that last one would make a pretty freaky movie script if I felt inspired to write it down.) Not that having weird dreams is out-of-the-ordinary for me either...but all of this is on such an escalated scale that it's really throwing me off. You'll have to excuse my completely ineffective attempt to pin point what it is that I'm trying so hard to write about, but the bottom line is--something is amiss.
At the same time, though, I have enjoyed how this uncomfortability has prompted me to pray more...and I'm listening to Shane and Shane on my iTunes like it's my job. It's like--I feel like something big is about to happen or is happening. And it kind of scares me, but at the same time it is really wonderful to yearn for God in this way. I really wish that my attitude were like this more often. Granted, my prayers feel so repetitive that they even bore me sometimes, but there is a fervency about them that I wish would manifest on a more regular basis.
Anyways, I shall keep you posted if I have any grand epiphanies.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Why don't students get an allotted number of sick days?
Yes, that's right friends. Meredith is down and out with some semblance of illness. It's not meningitis according to the nice ladies at the USC health center, but whatever it is, it requires three different prescriptions medicines, lots of fluid, plenty of rest (ha!), and neck-focused physical therapy, which I also am not doing. The first two of four isn't bad I figure. Granted, I walk around in a perpetual state of light-headedness and an overwhelming need to pee...but I won't go there. Mostly because I just took my muscle relaxer pill and I hope to finish this post before my fingers go or my head flops over, leaving me in a immobile puddle on my floor.
There've been a couple of things on my mind that I am hoping to write more about--the most recent of which is a rant about how I always seem to rant when I post stuff on here. Yes, a bit of irony, I know...but I was thinking this morning about how I should take the time to share here about some of the neat stuff that I am reading in the Bible and the cool epiphanies I've had during my chats with God. So hopefully you will see a bit more of that.
Also, we are at the point in the semester in my playwriting class where we begin developing a rough draft of the scene we want to present for the final. This class has been a really interesting experience of self-discovery. I've explored some places in my writing that were difficult to delve into, but I want to share some of my writing along with the things I am learning about releasing my inner playwrite.
And, as an appropriate finale, I am working through a new man-theory: recently a couple of people have thrown around the phrase, "I just need to man-up and *insert manly action here.*" While I am all about encouraging and affirming guys as they learn and practice what it means to be a man, I think that sometimes "manning-up" can often be for the benefit of others. Yes, I'm talking about dating and the "grow a pair, ask girls out" philosophy, but guys, don't judge me too quickly. I want to take a look at how women fit into this picture. And not to let the entire cat out of the bag, I'll leave you with a glimpse of paw: I'm working with a new term, something to the effect of what it means to "woman-up" or perhaps more appropriately, "woman-down." Feminists prepare your fire pits because you might want to burn me after this one...alas I love stirring up controversy, so hopefully I'll get around to this one sooner rather than later.
As always, comments are welcome--in fact, if you hound me via the comments section, it might help motivate me to ward off the muscle relaxer for a few extra minutes some night.
There've been a couple of things on my mind that I am hoping to write more about--the most recent of which is a rant about how I always seem to rant when I post stuff on here. Yes, a bit of irony, I know...but I was thinking this morning about how I should take the time to share here about some of the neat stuff that I am reading in the Bible and the cool epiphanies I've had during my chats with God. So hopefully you will see a bit more of that.
Also, we are at the point in the semester in my playwriting class where we begin developing a rough draft of the scene we want to present for the final. This class has been a really interesting experience of self-discovery. I've explored some places in my writing that were difficult to delve into, but I want to share some of my writing along with the things I am learning about releasing my inner playwrite.
And, as an appropriate finale, I am working through a new man-theory: recently a couple of people have thrown around the phrase, "I just need to man-up and *insert manly action here.*" While I am all about encouraging and affirming guys as they learn and practice what it means to be a man, I think that sometimes "manning-up" can often be for the benefit of others. Yes, I'm talking about dating and the "grow a pair, ask girls out" philosophy, but guys, don't judge me too quickly. I want to take a look at how women fit into this picture. And not to let the entire cat out of the bag, I'll leave you with a glimpse of paw: I'm working with a new term, something to the effect of what it means to "woman-up" or perhaps more appropriately, "woman-down." Feminists prepare your fire pits because you might want to burn me after this one...alas I love stirring up controversy, so hopefully I'll get around to this one sooner rather than later.
As always, comments are welcome--in fact, if you hound me via the comments section, it might help motivate me to ward off the muscle relaxer for a few extra minutes some night.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Romeo And Juliet: Learning to Play "Love" as a Jaded Pessimist
In my Shakespeare class, I've been assigned the most cliche scene in all of theatrical history, the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene. For anyone familiar with the acting world, this is a HUGE challenge because the scene has been done eight-bajillion times, most of the time, terribly. So it is quite a difficult feat to bring anything new to the piece.
Unlike some acting classes, though, the focus of this class is not to try something bizarre so that you milk a "good performance" from an otherwise archaic work...so that any random schmuck can forget that it's Shakespeare and buy into it--ie, making it "relevant." Instead, my professor discusses how Shakespeare should be honored for the verse it is--that by utilizing the style of Shakespearian theatre, infused with a genuine truth brought by the actor, you will achieve a good performance. In layman's terms this means that I can't dress up weird and do something "creative" (read: awkwardly different and flashy) to distract my 5-member audience from seeing that I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
At first, I was excited by the challenge. Then, my insecurities got the best of me: how in the world am I supposed to play this passionate, young lover, from the view through the smudgy-colored glasses I wear? Like most actors, I have my own blend of different acting methods, so when I approach a role, I pull a little bit from Stanislavski's emotional recall (which oversimplified is the idea that if you want to cry on stage, think about your dog dying in order to fake the emotion) and a bit more from Meisner's idea of being "in the moment" (kind of a form of elaborate "pretend"). Part of really putting myself into the shoes of another is thinking about the connections that I have with the character. For instance, if my character is dealing with a huge break-up, I think about times that I experienced something similar--maybe not the exact circumstances, but a time when I felt great loss. Through this, it becomes easy for me to convey how my character feels because I do understand it to a certain degree. A tangent that I'll leave for another day is the theory I have about how actors are always more messed up than normal people because we have to have experienced a lot of crazy crap in order to genuinely play different circumstances.
Digression aside, for me to play Juliet, the first step I take is to make myself a laundry list of all the obsessive "love" feelings that I've had--which is where this character becomes initially complicated. My pride does not let me admit that I have ever, nor do I currently, know what it's like to deal with being passionately "in love." A wise, but perhaps too honest, friend of mine once told me that it would take a while before I ever got into a relationship because I'm "jaded." I still don't really know what that means, but I assume he was referring to the fact that I hate all those mushy feelings and have spent my life training myself to ignore, suppress, nay, obliterate, any hint of "worldly" affection for a member of the opposite sex--the idea being that 1) these emotional feelings only lead to lust issues, dwelling on a man instead of God, and all sorts of other sin problems, and 2) as long as I'm not emotionally attached, they can't hurt me. The truth is, though, that I haven't always been as guarded as I would like and I can think of quite a few examples where my heart got involved and things got fuzzy, with pink (but never pulsating...) hearts, fireworks, weak at the knees, the whole nine yards. (Sorry to disappoint, but that laundry list isn't going to make the cut for publishing this post.) I don't like thinking about this stuff. It's depressing. It makes me want to vomit. That kind of emotion is the enemy!!
But I'm playing Juliet. And she is head over heels for Romeo. And she lets those feelings wash over her. Granted, as I learn more about her and the play, I'm starting to admire that she doesn't follow blindly and she isn't weak. She has several monologues in which she expresses this conflict of emotions--not wanting to be rash or make heat-of-the-moment decisions, but fighting all the passion inside her that she eventually just can't beat out. Dare I admit that I'm seeing more and more of myself on these pages..? Whether I like it or not, I completely understand Juliet. I relate to her because I've been there (both ten years and ten minutes ago). I just really, really don't want to go there. Acting can be dangerous in that way--because playing a part like this means opening up some areas that I'd prefer to keep shelved and allowing myself to live for a time in a mind-set that I don't necessarily want to define any other parts of my day. I've learned in the last couple of years that it is SOO important to train my acting in a healthy way. It is not ok to let myself go to a place, emotionally, mentally, physically, that I cannot handle or put away when I walk out of rehearsal. I don't want to dwell on love because it makes me think about all the difficulties I have defining the term for myself and dealing with its aftermath. Frankly, my brain is already over-worked with ponderings and theories, and I don't especially need to encourage it to meddle any more than necessary.
So I ask myself--why do even bother with this? How can I really think it's "fun" to emotionally rip open pieces of myself so that other people can watch me bleed?
What kind of sick freak am I?
But the answer is right in front of me. Do you remember "blood brothers"--the pact kids used to make with each other--before AIDS and disease told us that it wasn't ok--where they would prick or cut themselves and touch wounds so that the blood would mix? Acting is kind of like that. With a mask on. I've learned that mature, intentioned vulnerability is a way to blood-bond yourself with another. As scary as it may seem, admitting your inner thoughts and feelings often leads to a shared connection with another person--because they've likely felt the same way at one time or another. The two of you come together in a sigh of relief to discover that you are not alone. Acting is a kind of three-way blood brothers. Not only do I share red and white cells with my character, but I also mix those with the audience. It seems safer to emote when you can always use the excuse that it wasn't you, it was "the character." So playing Juliet means that I can experience her world from the safety of "it's just acting." I can lie to you, which I've of course already botched via this post, saying that I'm just pretending, but the safety gets all muddled here on the home-front where I am allowing myself to stand strong in the uncomfortable place of weakness--where emotions are vibrant and real and penetrating.
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
(Don't really get it? See the NoFear Shakespeare translation.)
Thus, I return to my studies--memorizing lines that I'm struggling to open my heart up to. Wish me luck.
Unlike some acting classes, though, the focus of this class is not to try something bizarre so that you milk a "good performance" from an otherwise archaic work...so that any random schmuck can forget that it's Shakespeare and buy into it--ie, making it "relevant." Instead, my professor discusses how Shakespeare should be honored for the verse it is--that by utilizing the style of Shakespearian theatre, infused with a genuine truth brought by the actor, you will achieve a good performance. In layman's terms this means that I can't dress up weird and do something "creative" (read: awkwardly different and flashy) to distract my 5-member audience from seeing that I don't know what the hell I'm doing.
At first, I was excited by the challenge. Then, my insecurities got the best of me: how in the world am I supposed to play this passionate, young lover, from the view through the smudgy-colored glasses I wear? Like most actors, I have my own blend of different acting methods, so when I approach a role, I pull a little bit from Stanislavski's emotional recall (which oversimplified is the idea that if you want to cry on stage, think about your dog dying in order to fake the emotion) and a bit more from Meisner's idea of being "in the moment" (kind of a form of elaborate "pretend"). Part of really putting myself into the shoes of another is thinking about the connections that I have with the character. For instance, if my character is dealing with a huge break-up, I think about times that I experienced something similar--maybe not the exact circumstances, but a time when I felt great loss. Through this, it becomes easy for me to convey how my character feels because I do understand it to a certain degree. A tangent that I'll leave for another day is the theory I have about how actors are always more messed up than normal people because we have to have experienced a lot of crazy crap in order to genuinely play different circumstances.
Digression aside, for me to play Juliet, the first step I take is to make myself a laundry list of all the obsessive "love" feelings that I've had--which is where this character becomes initially complicated. My pride does not let me admit that I have ever, nor do I currently, know what it's like to deal with being passionately "in love." A wise, but perhaps too honest, friend of mine once told me that it would take a while before I ever got into a relationship because I'm "jaded." I still don't really know what that means, but I assume he was referring to the fact that I hate all those mushy feelings and have spent my life training myself to ignore, suppress, nay, obliterate, any hint of "worldly" affection for a member of the opposite sex--the idea being that 1) these emotional feelings only lead to lust issues, dwelling on a man instead of God, and all sorts of other sin problems, and 2) as long as I'm not emotionally attached, they can't hurt me. The truth is, though, that I haven't always been as guarded as I would like and I can think of quite a few examples where my heart got involved and things got fuzzy, with pink (but never pulsating...) hearts, fireworks, weak at the knees, the whole nine yards. (Sorry to disappoint, but that laundry list isn't going to make the cut for publishing this post.) I don't like thinking about this stuff. It's depressing. It makes me want to vomit. That kind of emotion is the enemy!!
But I'm playing Juliet. And she is head over heels for Romeo. And she lets those feelings wash over her. Granted, as I learn more about her and the play, I'm starting to admire that she doesn't follow blindly and she isn't weak. She has several monologues in which she expresses this conflict of emotions--not wanting to be rash or make heat-of-the-moment decisions, but fighting all the passion inside her that she eventually just can't beat out. Dare I admit that I'm seeing more and more of myself on these pages..? Whether I like it or not, I completely understand Juliet. I relate to her because I've been there (both ten years and ten minutes ago). I just really, really don't want to go there. Acting can be dangerous in that way--because playing a part like this means opening up some areas that I'd prefer to keep shelved and allowing myself to live for a time in a mind-set that I don't necessarily want to define any other parts of my day. I've learned in the last couple of years that it is SOO important to train my acting in a healthy way. It is not ok to let myself go to a place, emotionally, mentally, physically, that I cannot handle or put away when I walk out of rehearsal. I don't want to dwell on love because it makes me think about all the difficulties I have defining the term for myself and dealing with its aftermath. Frankly, my brain is already over-worked with ponderings and theories, and I don't especially need to encourage it to meddle any more than necessary.
So I ask myself--why do even bother with this? How can I really think it's "fun" to emotionally rip open pieces of myself so that other people can watch me bleed?
What kind of sick freak am I?
But the answer is right in front of me. Do you remember "blood brothers"--the pact kids used to make with each other--before AIDS and disease told us that it wasn't ok--where they would prick or cut themselves and touch wounds so that the blood would mix? Acting is kind of like that. With a mask on. I've learned that mature, intentioned vulnerability is a way to blood-bond yourself with another. As scary as it may seem, admitting your inner thoughts and feelings often leads to a shared connection with another person--because they've likely felt the same way at one time or another. The two of you come together in a sigh of relief to discover that you are not alone. Acting is a kind of three-way blood brothers. Not only do I share red and white cells with my character, but I also mix those with the audience. It seems safer to emote when you can always use the excuse that it wasn't you, it was "the character." So playing Juliet means that I can experience her world from the safety of "it's just acting." I can lie to you, which I've of course already botched via this post, saying that I'm just pretending, but the safety gets all muddled here on the home-front where I am allowing myself to stand strong in the uncomfortable place of weakness--where emotions are vibrant and real and penetrating.
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight.
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say Ay;
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was 'ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
(Don't really get it? See the NoFear Shakespeare translation.)
Thus, I return to my studies--memorizing lines that I'm struggling to open my heart up to. Wish me luck.
Friday, October 13, 2006
When a nice evening of musical entertainment turns into prostitution (read on, Mom, before you flip out)
Tonight I went to Ground Zero (SC's "cool" and "artsy" coffee house...they do have good milkshakes though) to see Daphne Loves Derby play. Apparently the Laguna spin-off characters, or their producers, from MTV's "The Hills" also wanted to watch DLD, Quiet Drive or one of the other two bands that played. Well one thing led to another and I found myself sitting on a couch near enough to them that I may actually be in the background of a future episode. So for any of you that watch that garbage, let me know if you see me. Which I'm sure you'll be eager to do, now that you know how it will lower my opinion of you...
Anyways, I was kind of frustrated by the whole ordeal, partly because the cameras were in my way and I was distracted with trying to figure out what exactly they were filming, but mostly because it just seemed soo LA. I wanted to vomit. Who were these random, over-made-up kids? I got all uppity-artsy thinking about how at the very same time across campus, real actors were performing Cabaret. Alas, I'll refrain from that tirade.
Still, it's easy to let living in LA kind of get to me. I go through phases where I think that pursuing an acting career would be really exciting. Of course, I don't mean reality TV, but like legitimate acting work. Then another part of me revolts against this idea, assuming that any sort of theatrical career would completely disqualify me to serve in the church. I can't seem to figure out why it is that acting and church seem to be at such odds. The response I usually get to this is something to the effect of, "maybe God can use your acting skills within the church." But I don't want to be resigned to cheesy church plays. In fact...that induces about the same response as tonight's MTV experience. I realize that the assertion is good-natured, but I've just seen so many terrible attempts of the church to adopt popular culture, a season or two late, and I'd hate to see my art lumped into that collection of feces.
It should be interesting to see where my life takes me. I do miss Texas. I miss life being a bit quieter. But I'm enjoying the adventure that is my life right now. I love my family here and all the cool things I've gotten to experience.
Really I guess the only reason I'm kind of irritated right now is that tonight's ordeal wasn't really prostitution...cuz I didn't actually get paid..
Anyways, I was kind of frustrated by the whole ordeal, partly because the cameras were in my way and I was distracted with trying to figure out what exactly they were filming, but mostly because it just seemed soo LA. I wanted to vomit. Who were these random, over-made-up kids? I got all uppity-artsy thinking about how at the very same time across campus, real actors were performing Cabaret. Alas, I'll refrain from that tirade.
Still, it's easy to let living in LA kind of get to me. I go through phases where I think that pursuing an acting career would be really exciting. Of course, I don't mean reality TV, but like legitimate acting work. Then another part of me revolts against this idea, assuming that any sort of theatrical career would completely disqualify me to serve in the church. I can't seem to figure out why it is that acting and church seem to be at such odds. The response I usually get to this is something to the effect of, "maybe God can use your acting skills within the church." But I don't want to be resigned to cheesy church plays. In fact...that induces about the same response as tonight's MTV experience. I realize that the assertion is good-natured, but I've just seen so many terrible attempts of the church to adopt popular culture, a season or two late, and I'd hate to see my art lumped into that collection of feces.
It should be interesting to see where my life takes me. I do miss Texas. I miss life being a bit quieter. But I'm enjoying the adventure that is my life right now. I love my family here and all the cool things I've gotten to experience.
Really I guess the only reason I'm kind of irritated right now is that tonight's ordeal wasn't really prostitution...cuz I didn't actually get paid..
Saturday, October 07, 2006
What about cheating?
I just got back from seeing The Last Kiss with Zach Braff, one of those movies that brings up all sorts of questions that you don't really want to think about. Hence, here comes another pensive post.
The movie deals with relationships--marriages of both young and old, ones with children involved, serious dating relationships...all of which are moving through some sort of crisis. Braff's character finds himself tempted to cheat on his girlfriend, who will soon also be the mother of his kid. Watching, I found myself hoping for certain outcomes for each of the characters--all of which forced me to deal with the movie's central question: what about cheating? At what point do you define "crossing" that line, and which lines are forgivable, and can you ever forgive or should you forgive?
As one of the few 20 years olds that I know who actually thinks that she's ready to get married, I know what a scary thing it is that I'm claiming. Am I really ready to be married? And if I'm just kidding myself on this whole maturity thing that I think I see in me, when will I really be "grown up" enough to make that kind of commitment? I've never been impressed enough by a guy to let him have more than two months, and lately two dates. I can't even stick to a hair color. I've never been in love or let someone get close enough to hurt me, so I don't know how I'm supposed to make that jump into "till death do us part." And the closest I know to cheating, was my sophomore year of high school, when my boyfriend cheated on me with one of my best friends. At that point in the relationship though, I was already over it anyway--I knew a week beforehand that it was over, so when he actually broke up with me, I didn't cry. I didn't care. But what you sign up for in a real relationship, and what you bind yourself into, under God, the state, and everyone else, when you get married, is a lot of pain along with the good. The moment you let someone in, you make a choice to be vulnerable--and a choice to allow that person to hurt you in the deepest ways. Loving someone is allowing them to hurt you, and hoping that they won't. But they will.
So many people, myself included, want to be perfect--or at least perfect for someone out there. But the reality is, I won't ever be even adequate for someone else. And if I get married, he's going to get bored with me or annoyed or something...and he'll start looking elsewhere. There's a part of me that thinks that I'm going to somehow beat this by being whatever it is that all of those women who get cheated on aren't--as if it was something that they didn't do enough of, or something they did too much, that made their man cheat. I have to figure these things out so that I can keep him so happy that he wouldn't even consider looking elsewhere. The truth that I don't want to consider is that it doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't be enough. Which I'm sure isn't going to feel so great. Still, I feel like I'll be able to get through that kind of hurt. I may not understand exactly what it would mean to be cheated on in a real way, but I do know a thing or two about pain, and I think I'll be able to forgive. Sure, it's going to be really hard to heal my damaged pride and broken heart, but I've done it before. I know hurt, and I know where to take it, how to find healing.
The kind of hurt that I'm more scared of is the pain that comes if he's not the one in the relationship who screws it up. What if I do somehow end up with this incredible man that I think I'm looking for--and what if he is faithful enough to say no every single time that he's tempted? How do you come to someone so good...and tell him that you've done something so cruel? My morbid side uses this as a motivation to stay away from any guy with a shred of decency--as if I'm going to ruin him or something. That part's scary.
So now I start to wonder if getting married would just be selfish of me. I would be willing to marry a man that I loved, even if you were to tell me that he would cheat on me in the future. But if you were to let me know that I would cheat on him, I wouldn't be able to do go through with the marriage. I guess that's why it's good that I don't know the future, so I don't preemptively cop-out.
I still think marriage is going to be worth it. Despite all the ways it can and will go wrong, I think it's worth it to try. These are the kinds of hard times that I want to grow through. Like all the cliche's say, it's those bad times that make the good ones so sweet, and it's better to have lots of pain and the opportunity for joy than lead a safe, but boring life. Maybe marriage really isn't natural--something out of whack with our animalistic side--but I think it's a commitment worth making. And when I get to the point where I think I want out, where it's boring or annoying, I hope to God that I push through it--that He'll give me the strength to hold on to what I promised. Maybe part of the joy comes in knowing what it's like to suffer through the hard stuff and come out again on the other side. After 20 or 30 or 50 years together, you really understand the beauty of the sun, and it's something the two of you share because you discovered it together. Maybe that's worth it.
The movie deals with relationships--marriages of both young and old, ones with children involved, serious dating relationships...all of which are moving through some sort of crisis. Braff's character finds himself tempted to cheat on his girlfriend, who will soon also be the mother of his kid. Watching, I found myself hoping for certain outcomes for each of the characters--all of which forced me to deal with the movie's central question: what about cheating? At what point do you define "crossing" that line, and which lines are forgivable, and can you ever forgive or should you forgive?
As one of the few 20 years olds that I know who actually thinks that she's ready to get married, I know what a scary thing it is that I'm claiming. Am I really ready to be married? And if I'm just kidding myself on this whole maturity thing that I think I see in me, when will I really be "grown up" enough to make that kind of commitment? I've never been impressed enough by a guy to let him have more than two months, and lately two dates. I can't even stick to a hair color. I've never been in love or let someone get close enough to hurt me, so I don't know how I'm supposed to make that jump into "till death do us part." And the closest I know to cheating, was my sophomore year of high school, when my boyfriend cheated on me with one of my best friends. At that point in the relationship though, I was already over it anyway--I knew a week beforehand that it was over, so when he actually broke up with me, I didn't cry. I didn't care. But what you sign up for in a real relationship, and what you bind yourself into, under God, the state, and everyone else, when you get married, is a lot of pain along with the good. The moment you let someone in, you make a choice to be vulnerable--and a choice to allow that person to hurt you in the deepest ways. Loving someone is allowing them to hurt you, and hoping that they won't. But they will.
So many people, myself included, want to be perfect--or at least perfect for someone out there. But the reality is, I won't ever be even adequate for someone else. And if I get married, he's going to get bored with me or annoyed or something...and he'll start looking elsewhere. There's a part of me that thinks that I'm going to somehow beat this by being whatever it is that all of those women who get cheated on aren't--as if it was something that they didn't do enough of, or something they did too much, that made their man cheat. I have to figure these things out so that I can keep him so happy that he wouldn't even consider looking elsewhere. The truth that I don't want to consider is that it doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't be enough. Which I'm sure isn't going to feel so great. Still, I feel like I'll be able to get through that kind of hurt. I may not understand exactly what it would mean to be cheated on in a real way, but I do know a thing or two about pain, and I think I'll be able to forgive. Sure, it's going to be really hard to heal my damaged pride and broken heart, but I've done it before. I know hurt, and I know where to take it, how to find healing.
The kind of hurt that I'm more scared of is the pain that comes if he's not the one in the relationship who screws it up. What if I do somehow end up with this incredible man that I think I'm looking for--and what if he is faithful enough to say no every single time that he's tempted? How do you come to someone so good...and tell him that you've done something so cruel? My morbid side uses this as a motivation to stay away from any guy with a shred of decency--as if I'm going to ruin him or something. That part's scary.
So now I start to wonder if getting married would just be selfish of me. I would be willing to marry a man that I loved, even if you were to tell me that he would cheat on me in the future. But if you were to let me know that I would cheat on him, I wouldn't be able to do go through with the marriage. I guess that's why it's good that I don't know the future, so I don't preemptively cop-out.
I still think marriage is going to be worth it. Despite all the ways it can and will go wrong, I think it's worth it to try. These are the kinds of hard times that I want to grow through. Like all the cliche's say, it's those bad times that make the good ones so sweet, and it's better to have lots of pain and the opportunity for joy than lead a safe, but boring life. Maybe marriage really isn't natural--something out of whack with our animalistic side--but I think it's a commitment worth making. And when I get to the point where I think I want out, where it's boring or annoying, I hope to God that I push through it--that He'll give me the strength to hold on to what I promised. Maybe part of the joy comes in knowing what it's like to suffer through the hard stuff and come out again on the other side. After 20 or 30 or 50 years together, you really understand the beauty of the sun, and it's something the two of you share because you discovered it together. Maybe that's worth it.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Is it Possible That I Have Life All Figured Out...Or Has Optimism Devoured a Chunk of my Brain?
This is it. I think I finally hit on something here. I mean, I might be able to retire from the blogosphere due to the brilliance of what I am about to tell you.
Ok maybe not...but I did have another one of my episodes--an "epiphany" of sorts, which I put in quotes because these theories, thoughts, or whatever you want to call them strike me with momentary brilliance like some sort of epileptic seizure. (I'm pretty sure the scientific inaccuracy of that analogy completely disqualifies me from any claim to being politically correct; thus, I beg your forgiveness.)
So let's get to the root of all of this: I'm going to blameshift a bit via citing the sources that motivated my recent ponderings. First is Brian Colmery, 1/2 of the Shoreline Pastor Team and recently discovered master of the balance beam. In yesterday's sermon, the point he made that struck the deepest in me was the idea (which if you listen to his articulation of this concept will make much more sense) that we, humans, prefer to control our own lives as much as possible. Now if you really think about this, it's kind of a dumb idea because we aren't so much in charge of the universe, but we still try to direct our own story as much as possible. Hold this thought as we move to culprit number two: Chrissie Wanke. I call her into question since she heads up our Monday night Bible study. Really, the entire group might be to blame, but it was Chrissie that posed again to us the question Colmery asked from atop a makeshift gymnastics beam: what is it you worry about? What are you trying to control? Where aside from God do you seek security?
Huh...well my mind immediately goes to the two big daddy's: money and men (this really ought to read money and boys, but I felt like working the two M's bit, at the cost of suggesting actual maturity in the males I deal with) I listened to the sermon again this morning in order to prepare for what we might discuss tonight, and I really tried to think about where I seek security. I came to a roadblock. Money? Well...I seemed ok with everything this summer, even though things were a bit tight. But now that I'm a little more financially comfortable, I wonder if I seek security in this. Granted, this is coming from the girl who thinks it would be fun to pack my stuff in a storage unit come my August graduation and just be homeless for a little while because it would be cool to see God really give me this day my daily bread. Contemplating the irresponsibility involved and the fact that this might be testing God in the same way that Satan asks Jesus to jump off a building so the angels can catch him, I probably will not follow through. But I digress...money doesn't seem like a big deal to me because I know that I'll be able to figure things out if push comes to shove (and by "I" what I really mean is God working in me). If money runs out, I'll get a job. If I can't make rent, I'll live in a crappier apartment. This seems so simple to me because I know that if things start to get hard, God will either pull me through or teach me to readjust my means. Non-issue.
I explained this tonight to the girls. Then in classic Meredith fashion, I plowed into my next topic without filtering it through any sort of thought process. What came into my head then directly out of my mouth was this: I don't really think I struggle with trying to control the guy thing. And I don't know if that's because I've somewhere along the line genuinely learned to trust God for that or if I just finally realized that I never had control to begin with (girl's don't pursue, right?) so it was less about "giving it to God" and more about facing the facts. And is thinking about boys all the time the same thing as trying to control that area of my life?
The conversation moved on, but my mind kept working these things out. What do I really seek to control? Where do I find security? Earlier today at work I was teaching my students how to solve basic algebraic equations. I tried to explain that the concept itself was simple. Yes, they will eventually get to much more complicated problems that look harder and take more time, but the basic idea of solving for "x" will be the same every time. Remembering this after Bible study, I felt like I had stumbled upon the secret of life. What if all of this really is that simple. x + 4 = 7, therefore x = 3. I never have to stress because God has it figured out. I mean, isn't this really what Paul means when he says in Philippians not to be anxious about anything? In a way, life really is that simple. Even though it's not. A blanket statement like that obviously begs all sorts of questions: what is the difference between being anxious, cautious, apathetic, or hard working? How do you know where God is leading you in life? Can you trust emotions? And so on and so on.
So I started to break things down: first with money. God's provided in the past. I have never starved. I fully trust that some sort of paycheck or kind gift will get me through if I find myself in a bind. This one may actually be the easiest to dismiss.
Second, what do I want to be when I grow up? Apparently I'm supposed to grow up next August when I graduate from SC. However, what I've come to realize, which is now the "it" idea moving through campuses nationwide, is that it's ok not to have life figured out when you graduate. I can pick different types of careers and jobs--do one thing for a while and switch around as I feel God leading. Granted, I'll have bills to pay, but this goes back to point number one.
Now there's only one big issue that could trump all of these: boys. Anyone who's read five lines of anything I've written can tell that this may very well be the most vulnerable area of my life, and Satan's sweet spot when he wants to take me out of the game. I willingly admit, if I've got control issues, or any other issues for that matter, they probably factor in somehow to the way I view men. But even here, things seem kind of simple. Actually, I recently started a draft of a post that I had titled "Am I Really Still Looking?" where I discuss the simplicity of finding a husband. Literally. I'm working through the idea that I may have dating down to an art. There is a short list of men that I could name right now that I would marry on the spot if they asked me to meet them at the courthouse (provided I knew where it was). I even made myself an acronym to describe such a match, which also serves to prove my fluency in Christianese and all things cheesy: ChAP, which stands for character, attraction, and pursuit. The idea goes that when I find a man of genuine, Godly character (this of course requires some further definition which I won't get into now), who I am attracted to and compatible with, and who pursues a relationship with me, then I am ready to marry him. I know that this makes quite a few people either roll their eyes and pity my innocence or want to stone me for suggesting that it's so easy. And really, I understand that it's not. But maybe it is. I mean, I would eventually like to marry and have a family. I think many of my motivations may actually be pure in this: I want to be able to serve and love another person within the intimacy that only a husband and wife can share. I'd like to raise my children in a Godly, loving home. And I hope to minister to other women in many different life stages and know how God can uniquely minister to His people with my husband and I as a unit, instead of two individuals. Knowing this, knowing what it means to have Godly character, and knowing (though this may be where my process is least evolved) when I am attracted to someone, it seems that taking the leap into a marriage isn't so scary. The thing is--and this is where everything ties together--you learn as you go. Follow God. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. And all these things will be added unto you...just like the verse, just like the song. I already know that marriage will have ups and downs, and some really difficult downs at that, but I also know that it is a commitment I want to make when I find someone worth making that commitment to (and believe me, if you had any idea the kinds of men on my list, you wouldn't worry about me jumping into things too fast). In marriage, you commit to another person what is also a commitment to God, and if you follow Him, He provides security. In jobs and money, you follow God, and He provides security. Follow God, get security. Done and done.
Now, in light of this intensive rant, I almost feel the need to add a paragraph in which I confess all of my deep, dirty sins, lest any of my readers be tempted to think that I am somehow SuperChristianGirl. I have for sure got plenty of yuck in my life. And I can very clearly attest to the fact that life isn't simple when you break it down. I'm still learning all of this, and trying to remember who God is, compared to me, so that my pride won't explode out of control. There's lots of question-begging that I'm sure will fill pages and pages of blog posts in the years to come, and I know I'll probably do all sorts of stupid things that completely contradict what I've written. I'll likely go out with a few more schmucks before I get married and have a break-down over financial issues. This is why I like the Shoreline Women's mantra: the pursuit of progress, not perfection. Yet, I actually find some comfort in knowing that the big picture isn't so complicated after all, especially if you are God and your thinking far surpasses that of any human.
I think God finds my blog kind of funny.
Ok maybe not...but I did have another one of my episodes--an "epiphany" of sorts, which I put in quotes because these theories, thoughts, or whatever you want to call them strike me with momentary brilliance like some sort of epileptic seizure. (I'm pretty sure the scientific inaccuracy of that analogy completely disqualifies me from any claim to being politically correct; thus, I beg your forgiveness.)
So let's get to the root of all of this: I'm going to blameshift a bit via citing the sources that motivated my recent ponderings. First is Brian Colmery, 1/2 of the Shoreline Pastor Team and recently discovered master of the balance beam. In yesterday's sermon, the point he made that struck the deepest in me was the idea (which if you listen to his articulation of this concept will make much more sense) that we, humans, prefer to control our own lives as much as possible. Now if you really think about this, it's kind of a dumb idea because we aren't so much in charge of the universe, but we still try to direct our own story as much as possible. Hold this thought as we move to culprit number two: Chrissie Wanke. I call her into question since she heads up our Monday night Bible study. Really, the entire group might be to blame, but it was Chrissie that posed again to us the question Colmery asked from atop a makeshift gymnastics beam: what is it you worry about? What are you trying to control? Where aside from God do you seek security?
Huh...well my mind immediately goes to the two big daddy's: money and men (this really ought to read money and boys, but I felt like working the two M's bit, at the cost of suggesting actual maturity in the males I deal with) I listened to the sermon again this morning in order to prepare for what we might discuss tonight, and I really tried to think about where I seek security. I came to a roadblock. Money? Well...I seemed ok with everything this summer, even though things were a bit tight. But now that I'm a little more financially comfortable, I wonder if I seek security in this. Granted, this is coming from the girl who thinks it would be fun to pack my stuff in a storage unit come my August graduation and just be homeless for a little while because it would be cool to see God really give me this day my daily bread. Contemplating the irresponsibility involved and the fact that this might be testing God in the same way that Satan asks Jesus to jump off a building so the angels can catch him, I probably will not follow through. But I digress...money doesn't seem like a big deal to me because I know that I'll be able to figure things out if push comes to shove (and by "I" what I really mean is God working in me). If money runs out, I'll get a job. If I can't make rent, I'll live in a crappier apartment. This seems so simple to me because I know that if things start to get hard, God will either pull me through or teach me to readjust my means. Non-issue.
I explained this tonight to the girls. Then in classic Meredith fashion, I plowed into my next topic without filtering it through any sort of thought process. What came into my head then directly out of my mouth was this: I don't really think I struggle with trying to control the guy thing. And I don't know if that's because I've somewhere along the line genuinely learned to trust God for that or if I just finally realized that I never had control to begin with (girl's don't pursue, right?) so it was less about "giving it to God" and more about facing the facts. And is thinking about boys all the time the same thing as trying to control that area of my life?
The conversation moved on, but my mind kept working these things out. What do I really seek to control? Where do I find security? Earlier today at work I was teaching my students how to solve basic algebraic equations. I tried to explain that the concept itself was simple. Yes, they will eventually get to much more complicated problems that look harder and take more time, but the basic idea of solving for "x" will be the same every time. Remembering this after Bible study, I felt like I had stumbled upon the secret of life. What if all of this really is that simple. x + 4 = 7, therefore x = 3. I never have to stress because God has it figured out. I mean, isn't this really what Paul means when he says in Philippians not to be anxious about anything? In a way, life really is that simple. Even though it's not. A blanket statement like that obviously begs all sorts of questions: what is the difference between being anxious, cautious, apathetic, or hard working? How do you know where God is leading you in life? Can you trust emotions? And so on and so on.
So I started to break things down: first with money. God's provided in the past. I have never starved. I fully trust that some sort of paycheck or kind gift will get me through if I find myself in a bind. This one may actually be the easiest to dismiss.
Second, what do I want to be when I grow up? Apparently I'm supposed to grow up next August when I graduate from SC. However, what I've come to realize, which is now the "it" idea moving through campuses nationwide, is that it's ok not to have life figured out when you graduate. I can pick different types of careers and jobs--do one thing for a while and switch around as I feel God leading. Granted, I'll have bills to pay, but this goes back to point number one.
Now there's only one big issue that could trump all of these: boys. Anyone who's read five lines of anything I've written can tell that this may very well be the most vulnerable area of my life, and Satan's sweet spot when he wants to take me out of the game. I willingly admit, if I've got control issues, or any other issues for that matter, they probably factor in somehow to the way I view men. But even here, things seem kind of simple. Actually, I recently started a draft of a post that I had titled "Am I Really Still Looking?" where I discuss the simplicity of finding a husband. Literally. I'm working through the idea that I may have dating down to an art. There is a short list of men that I could name right now that I would marry on the spot if they asked me to meet them at the courthouse (provided I knew where it was). I even made myself an acronym to describe such a match, which also serves to prove my fluency in Christianese and all things cheesy: ChAP, which stands for character, attraction, and pursuit. The idea goes that when I find a man of genuine, Godly character (this of course requires some further definition which I won't get into now), who I am attracted to and compatible with, and who pursues a relationship with me, then I am ready to marry him. I know that this makes quite a few people either roll their eyes and pity my innocence or want to stone me for suggesting that it's so easy. And really, I understand that it's not. But maybe it is. I mean, I would eventually like to marry and have a family. I think many of my motivations may actually be pure in this: I want to be able to serve and love another person within the intimacy that only a husband and wife can share. I'd like to raise my children in a Godly, loving home. And I hope to minister to other women in many different life stages and know how God can uniquely minister to His people with my husband and I as a unit, instead of two individuals. Knowing this, knowing what it means to have Godly character, and knowing (though this may be where my process is least evolved) when I am attracted to someone, it seems that taking the leap into a marriage isn't so scary. The thing is--and this is where everything ties together--you learn as you go. Follow God. Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness. And all these things will be added unto you...just like the verse, just like the song. I already know that marriage will have ups and downs, and some really difficult downs at that, but I also know that it is a commitment I want to make when I find someone worth making that commitment to (and believe me, if you had any idea the kinds of men on my list, you wouldn't worry about me jumping into things too fast). In marriage, you commit to another person what is also a commitment to God, and if you follow Him, He provides security. In jobs and money, you follow God, and He provides security. Follow God, get security. Done and done.
Now, in light of this intensive rant, I almost feel the need to add a paragraph in which I confess all of my deep, dirty sins, lest any of my readers be tempted to think that I am somehow SuperChristianGirl. I have for sure got plenty of yuck in my life. And I can very clearly attest to the fact that life isn't simple when you break it down. I'm still learning all of this, and trying to remember who God is, compared to me, so that my pride won't explode out of control. There's lots of question-begging that I'm sure will fill pages and pages of blog posts in the years to come, and I know I'll probably do all sorts of stupid things that completely contradict what I've written. I'll likely go out with a few more schmucks before I get married and have a break-down over financial issues. This is why I like the Shoreline Women's mantra: the pursuit of progress, not perfection. Yet, I actually find some comfort in knowing that the big picture isn't so complicated after all, especially if you are God and your thinking far surpasses that of any human.
I think God finds my blog kind of funny.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
In a Moment of Honesty
It's never a good idea to write blogs from that emotional place you get to when it's late at night. There's a certain sense of truth that I know comes out of me when the day is done and I start getting all introspective. My best friend Mitzi once told me that I was one of the strongest people she knows. I laughed.
I recently learned that I had a few more blog readers than I thought--meaning that my late night emo-posts are getting around to more people than is probably healthy. Hm...how to be honest and avoid the overshare...
Honestly, this post isn't strong. I'm about to admit that sometimes I don't have all my stuff together. I'm not quite as invincible as I like to portray. Yes, I'm talking again about boys, which sort of makes me want to vomit. 98% of me has a complete handle on things--boys are entertaining but not good for much else. And it absolutely KILLS me when the other 2% wins out and I start to feel all girly and daydreamy and yuck. Mitzi says I'm strong. So I should be able to hold my own. Just me and God. And I don't want or need anything else.
But Lauren introduced me to this new song tonight, and I let myself be weak and actually feel every word. Music and I have had quite the affair, and I love it when certain lines or bits of songs give a voice to that piece of yourself that you can't quite seem to express. I've felt these words long before I heard them tonight...
I recently learned that I had a few more blog readers than I thought--meaning that my late night emo-posts are getting around to more people than is probably healthy. Hm...how to be honest and avoid the overshare...
Honestly, this post isn't strong. I'm about to admit that sometimes I don't have all my stuff together. I'm not quite as invincible as I like to portray. Yes, I'm talking again about boys, which sort of makes me want to vomit. 98% of me has a complete handle on things--boys are entertaining but not good for much else. And it absolutely KILLS me when the other 2% wins out and I start to feel all girly and daydreamy and yuck. Mitzi says I'm strong. So I should be able to hold my own. Just me and God. And I don't want or need anything else.
But Lauren introduced me to this new song tonight, and I let myself be weak and actually feel every word. Music and I have had quite the affair, and I love it when certain lines or bits of songs give a voice to that piece of yourself that you can't quite seem to express. I've felt these words long before I heard them tonight...
"Paperweight"
Joshua Radin and Shuyler Fisk
Been up all night staring at you
wondering what's on your mind
i've been this way with so many before but this feels like the first time
you want the sunrise to go back to bed
i want to make you laugh
mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
happy to lay here
just happy to be here
i'm happy to know you
play me a song
your newest one
please leave your taste on my tongue
paperweight on my back
cover me like a blanket
mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and no need to worry
that's wastin time
and no need to wonder
what's been on my mind
it's you
it's you
it's you
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and i give up
i let you win
you win cause i'm not counting
you made it back to sleep again
wonder what you're dreaming
Joshua Radin and Shuyler Fisk
Been up all night staring at you
wondering what's on your mind
i've been this way with so many before but this feels like the first time
you want the sunrise to go back to bed
i want to make you laugh
mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
happy to lay here
just happy to be here
i'm happy to know you
play me a song
your newest one
please leave your taste on my tongue
paperweight on my back
cover me like a blanket
mess up my bed with me
kick off the covers i'm waiting
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and no need to worry
that's wastin time
and no need to wonder
what's been on my mind
it's you
it's you
it's you
every word you say i think i should write down
don't want to forget come daylight
and i give up
i let you win
you win cause i'm not counting
you made it back to sleep again
wonder what you're dreaming
Seriously--I hate the girly side of me that thinks I wrote every line. No more daydreaming. I'm going to bed. At least if I'm a big, sappy dork while I sleep, it's not really my fault because I have no control over what my subconscious dwells on. Tomorrow morning, the majority gets to rule again.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
What About Baggage?
I almost hate to mention what spurred this post...but my desire to seem professional motivates citing this source...
I receive the eHarmony newsletter via email.
Whew...I'm glad I got that off my chest. In all honesty, I swear it's because I filled out one of those free personality profiles one night when I was bored...and now they send me stuff in my email, and I'm too lazy to ask them to stop. This particular issue caught my eye because it had several dating/relationship articles that I thought sounded interesting. Being the aspiring relationship guru that I am, I opted to peruse Dimensions (this is what they call their little bit of literary whatnot). After I finished an article titled "The Ex Files: How to Get Over Your Baggage and Get On with Your Life," I started to wonder if this "Dr. Warren" really knew what he was talking about. I'm a huge skeptic to begin with, and no amount of couples' success stories is really going to convince me that I should listen to his babbling.
Yet. This topic is very close to my heart. My dad and I have had many a discussion about "what is it about women and holding on to their baggage for dear life?" After hours of yapping, the best conclusion we've come up with is that women are spaghetti and men are waffles. This, according to my dad, is the newest catch-phrase--taking the ideas of Venus and Mars to a whole new level. I'll venture a tangent to explain: men compartmentalize. They have all these little squares of syrup and none of them have to mingle with any of the others. Women, however, are spaghetti because anything you add to the mix gets all sorts of gunked up on everything else (this explanation is especially potent with my accompanying hand motions, but you'll have to do without them for now). Anyways, point being, if a woman has hurt in her past, she can't seem to confine it to one noodle. Sauce gets all up in all the noodles. And you can't just start throwing stuff out or you'd have no noodles left, which only further encourages your anorexia, also not a good thing. Besides, this whole "packing analogy" is really difficult for me. I mean, if you've ever seen me at the airport, you know that I am anything but low maintenance. Every time I travel, I plan to downsize some, but it never seems to come to fruition. And now with all these anti-liquid regulations, transporting my lip-gloss collection is more complicated than ever. Still, I do see a glimmer of hope: my travel rule is "Never pack more than you can carry." Testing proves that there is a direct correlation (excuse the science-talk, I just finished my lab report) between my increasing buffness and the amount of baggage I can truck around with.
Alas, according to Dr. eHarms, baggage is something that can be organized, downsized, and eventually eliminated. According to my dad, you should just get over it. In other words--baggage can be sectioned off, cut neatly, and swallowed with a glass of milk. Which is all fine and dandy if you are a waffle.
On behalf of all the spaghetti in the world, I propose that we get a second opinion...from a chick. Sure, the article has some awesome ideas for learning what it means to understand your past and the effect it has on you. Yes, people should recognize the hurt for what it is, forgive, and put it behind them. But this isn't a case for getting rid of baggage altogether. In a kind of sick but also charming way, your baggage helps make you the way you are. It doesn't have to be all that bad. Here's some additional hints that I would add to Dr. Warren's five-point plan:
1. Pack efficiently: sort through all the crap you've got and figure out how to organize it just a bit. Rolling clothes instead of just folding and piling them is an army trick I got from a friend of mine. Know what kind of crap you have and see if you can arrange it in a way to make it make a bit more sense.
2. Downsize what you can: a little of me dies inside when I say this, but three different kinds of lip gloss will be plenty for the road ahead. And toss the hair appliances--go for the wet-hair look. It's hot right now.
3. Hit the gym: if you've got a lot of crap to haul, better buff up those arms and shoulders. Go with what you got--God hasn't given us more than we can handle, right?
Now this all brings me to a final ThoughtRantTangent (check that--combining three words instead of just two): I may actually be entering the life-stage where I don't hate on hook-up websites. Last weekend, while watching 10 Things I Hate About You on TV (where they bleep out words...which I always find slightly distracting and rather amusing) with my friend Katie and two of my roommates, a commercial for eHarmony came on the television. Alli spoke up: "You guys--we are the demographic they are catering to...the pathetic, single women watching movies on TV on a Friday night." According to the other commercials, we are also single mothers (kids' toys ad) and fat (Weight Watchers). Kind of depressing, really. But I don't think that you have to be ridiculously loserish to glean from the dating advice and methods of others. Last summer I read a book called How to Get a Date Worth Keeping, which I pre-judged as the most un-Christian dating book ever. My post-judgment came out opposite. The book has a lot of good ideas about viewing dating as a normal part of making friendly connections with people--instead of as the scary monster we've turned it into. I think eHarmony and it's competitors are on to something similar: it's O K to meet new people and get to know them. In today's world, courtship can't work like it used to because your parents (or you) can't do the intensive background check that was once possible. You, likely, didn't grow up around these people. Dating or the websites that promote it are a form of "background check" in a social situation. Not to take away all the romance of relationships, but doing a bit of research on the subject before your let your emotions get carried away is a pretty good preventative strategy for keeping the baggage count low.
My last thoughts: love God and keep traveling. Happy trails!
I receive the eHarmony newsletter via email.
Whew...I'm glad I got that off my chest. In all honesty, I swear it's because I filled out one of those free personality profiles one night when I was bored...and now they send me stuff in my email, and I'm too lazy to ask them to stop. This particular issue caught my eye because it had several dating/relationship articles that I thought sounded interesting. Being the aspiring relationship guru that I am, I opted to peruse Dimensions (this is what they call their little bit of literary whatnot). After I finished an article titled "The Ex Files: How to Get Over Your Baggage and Get On with Your Life," I started to wonder if this "Dr. Warren" really knew what he was talking about. I'm a huge skeptic to begin with, and no amount of couples' success stories is really going to convince me that I should listen to his babbling.
Yet. This topic is very close to my heart. My dad and I have had many a discussion about "what is it about women and holding on to their baggage for dear life?" After hours of yapping, the best conclusion we've come up with is that women are spaghetti and men are waffles. This, according to my dad, is the newest catch-phrase--taking the ideas of Venus and Mars to a whole new level. I'll venture a tangent to explain: men compartmentalize. They have all these little squares of syrup and none of them have to mingle with any of the others. Women, however, are spaghetti because anything you add to the mix gets all sorts of gunked up on everything else (this explanation is especially potent with my accompanying hand motions, but you'll have to do without them for now). Anyways, point being, if a woman has hurt in her past, she can't seem to confine it to one noodle. Sauce gets all up in all the noodles. And you can't just start throwing stuff out or you'd have no noodles left, which only further encourages your anorexia, also not a good thing. Besides, this whole "packing analogy" is really difficult for me. I mean, if you've ever seen me at the airport, you know that I am anything but low maintenance. Every time I travel, I plan to downsize some, but it never seems to come to fruition. And now with all these anti-liquid regulations, transporting my lip-gloss collection is more complicated than ever. Still, I do see a glimmer of hope: my travel rule is "Never pack more than you can carry." Testing proves that there is a direct correlation (excuse the science-talk, I just finished my lab report) between my increasing buffness and the amount of baggage I can truck around with.
Alas, according to Dr. eHarms, baggage is something that can be organized, downsized, and eventually eliminated. According to my dad, you should just get over it. In other words--baggage can be sectioned off, cut neatly, and swallowed with a glass of milk. Which is all fine and dandy if you are a waffle.
On behalf of all the spaghetti in the world, I propose that we get a second opinion...from a chick. Sure, the article has some awesome ideas for learning what it means to understand your past and the effect it has on you. Yes, people should recognize the hurt for what it is, forgive, and put it behind them. But this isn't a case for getting rid of baggage altogether. In a kind of sick but also charming way, your baggage helps make you the way you are. It doesn't have to be all that bad. Here's some additional hints that I would add to Dr. Warren's five-point plan:
1. Pack efficiently: sort through all the crap you've got and figure out how to organize it just a bit. Rolling clothes instead of just folding and piling them is an army trick I got from a friend of mine. Know what kind of crap you have and see if you can arrange it in a way to make it make a bit more sense.
2. Downsize what you can: a little of me dies inside when I say this, but three different kinds of lip gloss will be plenty for the road ahead. And toss the hair appliances--go for the wet-hair look. It's hot right now.
3. Hit the gym: if you've got a lot of crap to haul, better buff up those arms and shoulders. Go with what you got--God hasn't given us more than we can handle, right?
Now this all brings me to a final ThoughtRantTangent (check that--combining three words instead of just two): I may actually be entering the life-stage where I don't hate on hook-up websites. Last weekend, while watching 10 Things I Hate About You on TV (where they bleep out words...which I always find slightly distracting and rather amusing) with my friend Katie and two of my roommates, a commercial for eHarmony came on the television. Alli spoke up: "You guys--we are the demographic they are catering to...the pathetic, single women watching movies on TV on a Friday night." According to the other commercials, we are also single mothers (kids' toys ad) and fat (Weight Watchers). Kind of depressing, really. But I don't think that you have to be ridiculously loserish to glean from the dating advice and methods of others. Last summer I read a book called How to Get a Date Worth Keeping, which I pre-judged as the most un-Christian dating book ever. My post-judgment came out opposite. The book has a lot of good ideas about viewing dating as a normal part of making friendly connections with people--instead of as the scary monster we've turned it into. I think eHarmony and it's competitors are on to something similar: it's O K to meet new people and get to know them. In today's world, courtship can't work like it used to because your parents (or you) can't do the intensive background check that was once possible. You, likely, didn't grow up around these people. Dating or the websites that promote it are a form of "background check" in a social situation. Not to take away all the romance of relationships, but doing a bit of research on the subject before your let your emotions get carried away is a pretty good preventative strategy for keeping the baggage count low.
My last thoughts: love God and keep traveling. Happy trails!
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
SexyBack and 1984
Raise your hand if you read George Orwell's 1984.
If your hands are still firmly set on your computer mouse and keyboard, the education system of America has completely failed you and you need to write to your congressman about this "No Child Left Behind" idea.
For the rest of yall, remember Big Brother and all the creepy methods the government in the novel used to control its citizens? Yeah...I'm not so much talking about that.
Let's switch gears for a second to our good ol' friend Justin Timberlake. Those of you who visit my myspace have heard his single, "SexyBack," while perusing my wall posts. It is my new anthem. (If you're questioning my integrity, perhaps I shall soon revisit a post from my archives about why Christian women need to be sexy)
Now here is the cool part where I tie the two together: Think Big Bro's "doublethink." Think "FurtureSex" and "LoveSounds." If George and Justin can invent combo-words, then I believe that I have every RightResponsibility to do so as well. I'll just add them to my spell-check dictionary to make them legit.
Doublethink that.
If your hands are still firmly set on your computer mouse and keyboard, the education system of America has completely failed you and you need to write to your congressman about this "No Child Left Behind" idea.
For the rest of yall, remember Big Brother and all the creepy methods the government in the novel used to control its citizens? Yeah...I'm not so much talking about that.
Let's switch gears for a second to our good ol' friend Justin Timberlake. Those of you who visit my myspace have heard his single, "SexyBack," while perusing my wall posts. It is my new anthem. (If you're questioning my integrity, perhaps I shall soon revisit a post from my archives about why Christian women need to be sexy)
Now here is the cool part where I tie the two together: Think Big Bro's "doublethink." Think "FurtureSex" and "LoveSounds." If George and Justin can invent combo-words, then I believe that I have every RightResponsibility to do so as well. I'll just add them to my spell-check dictionary to make them legit.
Doublethink that.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
New Fun on the Horizon
Whew!! Man, has it been an intensive month or so! Apologies for my lack of posting, but life just got super-crazy, and I suppose I'm still settling in. I'm in the middle of my fourth week of school, and definately loving my classes. Here are some highlights of my life right now...
* School is amazing, but I'm ready to be out. I've officially decided to finish a year early, so after two summer school classes, I will be done with college. No, I don't have any clue what I'm going to do when I'm finished. I'll let everyone know as soon as I figure it out. I promise. For this semester, I am learning all sorts of fun things about exercise and health in my kinesiology class, acting Shakespeare, how to draft (draw/make) patterns for costumes, playwriting, round three of German, and how to better control my voice in performance.
* Church is even more amazing--we will be moving next week to our new location at La Trova House on Stoner Ave. Check the Shoreline website for details. Also, I will be helping to organize the children's' ministry which is quite possibly the most frightening thing in the world, but ridiculously exciting at the same time. I am so amazed by how many cool opportunities God has given me at Shoreline. I absolutely adore my friends there and am stoked about what He has in store.
* As for my "free time," I'm still working at Prep Center, where I tutor math and English to highschool (and those smart middle school) students. Also, I'll try to be as consistent as possible in my small group here at SC, where we will be going through Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge, as well as Quest on Wednesdays, my Shoreline ladies on Mondays, and prayer meetings on Thursdays.
So...we might ask ourselves...has Meredith lost her mind?? Maybe. Right now, things seem to be going along well, which brings me to a slight tangent (but an actual topic of discussion) for today's' post. Chrissie Wanke started a blog for the women of Shoreline, where I will hopefully begin contributing some. (PS--check out the post from Sept 6...I'd love to hear more thoughts on that topic!!) In our women's Bible study we are going to spend the year talking through the sermons each week. This way, we are able to really dig deeper into what Brian or Scott have to share with us on Sundays and discuss how to apply it to our lives during the rest of the week, instead of letting the message seep out as we head to lunch. Anyways...point I'm trying to make--Chrissie's latest post is about our discussion last night of what it means to live a truly full life. On the topic of busyness (remember, before Meredith began her awkward tangent, she was discussing all of her after-school activities, suggesting a potential burn-out on the horizon), looking at my schedule makes me wonder if I'm not over-doing things just a tad. And to think, after the sermon on Sunday, I was asking myself about how I could put more of my idle time to use for Christ. Am I too busy or too idle? Honestly, who knows? I sometimes wonder if I do a little too much contemplating for my own good. Here's how I really hash it out: granted, I attend formal church activities on Sun, Mon, Tues, Wed, and Thurs, along with my school and work commitments. Now before you start thinking I'm holy and fabulous or something, I should explain. In the wise words of my friend Will Neuman, "You go to church for the same reason I go to bars." As one who is revolted by the idea of going to church to pick up women (ok...or men), this statement should set me off. However, it was a comment following my explanation that many of my church activities were very socially geared. Yes, I go to church to hear God's word and learn more about Him, but there is a significant and important purpose to the communal aspect of church. These activities are more than just time fillers, but a place for me to relax and enjoy the company of women and men whom I love dearly. And what better topic to discuss than the amazing God we all serve? Conclusion: my crazy schedule should not induce hysteria, panic, or any otherwise upsetting physical reactions.
To wrap myself up...because I have a Bible study to attend...this year's blog posting will hopefully be frequent enough to allow everyone to see the craziness inside my head, ie: such mumbo-jumbo as that in the preceding paragraph. As I learn about how to teach children (young and old) and get taught all sorts of things myself, I hope to share my thoughts here about the kinds of stuff that bounces around in my brain. Please share your thoughts on my weirdo theories! I post stuff because I'm usually crazy and it's good to have someone put me in my place when I start to ramble (because my idea of editing is running spell-check). Get excited for all sorts of forum topics from ministry to theatre, children and women, and of course the ever popular topic...boys.
* School is amazing, but I'm ready to be out. I've officially decided to finish a year early, so after two summer school classes, I will be done with college. No, I don't have any clue what I'm going to do when I'm finished. I'll let everyone know as soon as I figure it out. I promise. For this semester, I am learning all sorts of fun things about exercise and health in my kinesiology class, acting Shakespeare, how to draft (draw/make) patterns for costumes, playwriting, round three of German, and how to better control my voice in performance.
* Church is even more amazing--we will be moving next week to our new location at La Trova House on Stoner Ave. Check the Shoreline website for details. Also, I will be helping to organize the children's' ministry which is quite possibly the most frightening thing in the world, but ridiculously exciting at the same time. I am so amazed by how many cool opportunities God has given me at Shoreline. I absolutely adore my friends there and am stoked about what He has in store.
* As for my "free time," I'm still working at Prep Center, where I tutor math and English to highschool (and those smart middle school) students. Also, I'll try to be as consistent as possible in my small group here at SC, where we will be going through Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge, as well as Quest on Wednesdays, my Shoreline ladies on Mondays, and prayer meetings on Thursdays.
So...we might ask ourselves...has Meredith lost her mind?? Maybe. Right now, things seem to be going along well, which brings me to a slight tangent (but an actual topic of discussion) for today's' post. Chrissie Wanke started a blog for the women of Shoreline, where I will hopefully begin contributing some. (PS--check out the post from Sept 6...I'd love to hear more thoughts on that topic!!) In our women's Bible study we are going to spend the year talking through the sermons each week. This way, we are able to really dig deeper into what Brian or Scott have to share with us on Sundays and discuss how to apply it to our lives during the rest of the week, instead of letting the message seep out as we head to lunch. Anyways...point I'm trying to make--Chrissie's latest post is about our discussion last night of what it means to live a truly full life. On the topic of busyness (remember, before Meredith began her awkward tangent, she was discussing all of her after-school activities, suggesting a potential burn-out on the horizon), looking at my schedule makes me wonder if I'm not over-doing things just a tad. And to think, after the sermon on Sunday, I was asking myself about how I could put more of my idle time to use for Christ. Am I too busy or too idle? Honestly, who knows? I sometimes wonder if I do a little too much contemplating for my own good. Here's how I really hash it out: granted, I attend formal church activities on Sun, Mon, Tues, Wed, and Thurs, along with my school and work commitments. Now before you start thinking I'm holy and fabulous or something, I should explain. In the wise words of my friend Will Neuman, "You go to church for the same reason I go to bars." As one who is revolted by the idea of going to church to pick up women (ok...or men), this statement should set me off. However, it was a comment following my explanation that many of my church activities were very socially geared. Yes, I go to church to hear God's word and learn more about Him, but there is a significant and important purpose to the communal aspect of church. These activities are more than just time fillers, but a place for me to relax and enjoy the company of women and men whom I love dearly. And what better topic to discuss than the amazing God we all serve? Conclusion: my crazy schedule should not induce hysteria, panic, or any otherwise upsetting physical reactions.
To wrap myself up...because I have a Bible study to attend...this year's blog posting will hopefully be frequent enough to allow everyone to see the craziness inside my head, ie: such mumbo-jumbo as that in the preceding paragraph. As I learn about how to teach children (young and old) and get taught all sorts of things myself, I hope to share my thoughts here about the kinds of stuff that bounces around in my brain. Please share your thoughts on my weirdo theories! I post stuff because I'm usually crazy and it's good to have someone put me in my place when I start to ramble (because my idea of editing is running spell-check). Get excited for all sorts of forum topics from ministry to theatre, children and women, and of course the ever popular topic...boys.
Friday, September 01, 2006
I Hate Age
Forgive the rant...but I seriously hate my age.
And no, it's not about being just over 5 months away from 21, wanting to go to clubs and drink and such (although I must say...all those cutesy fruity drinks just look so fabulous)..
I hate age because I feel like it's limiting. In the Bible, Paul tells Timothy, "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young.." So when it comes to church-related things, I try to keep in mind that God is the one doing all the working anyways, and He can use young or old to do what He wants. For instance, I led a crew to Germany that was 75% older than me. Perhaps things might have run smoother with a more experienced sage at the wheel, but for whatever reason, God let me do it. This is fabulous. Spiritually, I feel really free of numbers, knowing that God uses the weak (which can often be the young) to show off His strength. I've got this crazy idea that I can change the world, and I don't want to wait around until I'm no longer afraid of being carded.
Unfortunately, outside of the Bible, I don't have many people on my side. In the real world, the numbers matter. I can't date anyone much older than me because it looks shady for them to be with someone "under age." In the business side of things, I think they aren't allowed to discriminate based on age, so at least I've got the government working for me on that one. Because they won't be able to infer my age when I interview...or when they read on my resume that I've only been in college for two years now. I think the worst, though, is when I get the look. You know...I make some comment about feeling old...perhaps it's a joke about hitting menopause because I suddenly feel a wave of heat and think I'm starting to get hot flashes, then someone else in the room, who may, for all practical purposes, be merely 3 or 4 years older than me, rolls her eyes and says, "yeah, talk to me when you're (fill in the blank) years old..." In fact...I'm pretty sure I heard this when I was a teenager from girls who filled in the blank with 20. Perhaps I should look them up to talk now that I'm 20 and still feel the same about this number, formerly known as age, as I did back then.
Truth is, a lot of times, I feel old. I'm 20, but I seriously feel like I've lived, like...30 years worth of life. (some of you are giving the look right now..) Experientially, I think I'm older. It probably has something to do with my upbringing and just the weird way my crazy little mind works. But life happens, and there's a lot of crappy stuff, and (praise the Lord) a lot of really good stuff too. And when I look around at other people my age, I sometimes wonder if I'm from some other planet because they just don't seem to look at the world the way I do. I feel ancient.
Then there's other times that I feel really young. All that crappy stuff in life reminds me of how fragile and weak I am. Pondering how big God is reminds me about how small I am. Seeing the wisdom of others makes me feel small too; their maturity reminds me that I have so much further to go.
So if I can't seem to figure out whether I am old or young for my age, maybe we need some other way of counting. Like...I've experienced 32 years of boy drama, 24 years of the American
educational system, 18 years of cool God moments, 0 years of personal computer maintenance, and so on. I'll get some math people to work on some sort of equation for this because something is seriously wrong with this whole number system. Why is it that on some arbitrary day, you become one year older and all of a sudden one whole number bigger. No one ever feels any different during the change from 7 to 8, despite the inherent excitement of knowing that you get presents on this day, even though you didn't anything that fabulous except breathe in and out a few more times. So why a difference between 20 and 21? Will I really feel any smarter, wiser, or cooler next February? Granted, according to popular culture, I will look cooler with some sort of alcoholic beverage in my hand, but this aside, I doubt much will change.
Anyways, time is money, and I'm pretty sure I've taken away a good chunk of yours. I don't really know where I'm going with all this, except to pout like a 2-year-old (note: tell the math kid to add this number to the equation). Maybe I can just lie. Or...if I count from conception, then technically I'm already 21. So there.
Yeah...I'm done...
And no, it's not about being just over 5 months away from 21, wanting to go to clubs and drink and such (although I must say...all those cutesy fruity drinks just look so fabulous)..
I hate age because I feel like it's limiting. In the Bible, Paul tells Timothy, "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young.." So when it comes to church-related things, I try to keep in mind that God is the one doing all the working anyways, and He can use young or old to do what He wants. For instance, I led a crew to Germany that was 75% older than me. Perhaps things might have run smoother with a more experienced sage at the wheel, but for whatever reason, God let me do it. This is fabulous. Spiritually, I feel really free of numbers, knowing that God uses the weak (which can often be the young) to show off His strength. I've got this crazy idea that I can change the world, and I don't want to wait around until I'm no longer afraid of being carded.
Unfortunately, outside of the Bible, I don't have many people on my side. In the real world, the numbers matter. I can't date anyone much older than me because it looks shady for them to be with someone "under age." In the business side of things, I think they aren't allowed to discriminate based on age, so at least I've got the government working for me on that one. Because they won't be able to infer my age when I interview...or when they read on my resume that I've only been in college for two years now. I think the worst, though, is when I get the look. You know...I make some comment about feeling old...perhaps it's a joke about hitting menopause because I suddenly feel a wave of heat and think I'm starting to get hot flashes, then someone else in the room, who may, for all practical purposes, be merely 3 or 4 years older than me, rolls her eyes and says, "yeah, talk to me when you're (fill in the blank) years old..." In fact...I'm pretty sure I heard this when I was a teenager from girls who filled in the blank with 20. Perhaps I should look them up to talk now that I'm 20 and still feel the same about this number, formerly known as age, as I did back then.
Truth is, a lot of times, I feel old. I'm 20, but I seriously feel like I've lived, like...30 years worth of life. (some of you are giving the look right now..) Experientially, I think I'm older. It probably has something to do with my upbringing and just the weird way my crazy little mind works. But life happens, and there's a lot of crappy stuff, and (praise the Lord) a lot of really good stuff too. And when I look around at other people my age, I sometimes wonder if I'm from some other planet because they just don't seem to look at the world the way I do. I feel ancient.
Then there's other times that I feel really young. All that crappy stuff in life reminds me of how fragile and weak I am. Pondering how big God is reminds me about how small I am. Seeing the wisdom of others makes me feel small too; their maturity reminds me that I have so much further to go.
So if I can't seem to figure out whether I am old or young for my age, maybe we need some other way of counting. Like...I've experienced 32 years of boy drama, 24 years of the American
educational system, 18 years of cool God moments, 0 years of personal computer maintenance, and so on. I'll get some math people to work on some sort of equation for this because something is seriously wrong with this whole number system. Why is it that on some arbitrary day, you become one year older and all of a sudden one whole number bigger. No one ever feels any different during the change from 7 to 8, despite the inherent excitement of knowing that you get presents on this day, even though you didn't anything that fabulous except breathe in and out a few more times. So why a difference between 20 and 21? Will I really feel any smarter, wiser, or cooler next February? Granted, according to popular culture, I will look cooler with some sort of alcoholic beverage in my hand, but this aside, I doubt much will change.
Anyways, time is money, and I'm pretty sure I've taken away a good chunk of yours. I don't really know where I'm going with all this, except to pout like a 2-year-old (note: tell the math kid to add this number to the equation). Maybe I can just lie. Or...if I count from conception, then technically I'm already 21. So there.
Yeah...I'm done...
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Go Slow
There is a lot inside of me that hurts
And you
Won’t be able to fix it
Not because you are somehow inadequate
Or the damage is too great
Or anything like that
I
I guess
I mean
I don’t really even think I’m broken
In the traditional sense
There isn’t anything
Wrong
Per say
About me
I just
Am
I am
This is me
I
I have stuff
But I am so ready
And I will love you so greatly
I want to and I can
But what I need
What I really need
Is to know that you will be patient with me
Stuff happens
And stuff changes you
And I’ve got some changes that most people don’t want to deal with
I’m not looking for you to deal with me
I have so much to give
But you have to go slow
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I'm Taking a Poll
Ok so for my voice class, I have to fill out this questionnaire, so I've decided to turn it into a blog poll (because this is what I do). Hence, I need your responses. I've already answered the questions for myself, but I have to figure out what other people would say about me. Please be nice...
If I were an animal, what animal would I be?
and..
If I were a historical or fictional character, who would I be?
And, yes, I am paying 35 thousand a year to fill out surveys like this. Man I love my school :)
If I were an animal, what animal would I be?
and..
If I were a historical or fictional character, who would I be?
And, yes, I am paying 35 thousand a year to fill out surveys like this. Man I love my school :)
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
On a less depressing note...
So I feel as though my initial post about Germany just sounds rediculously depressing, so here is a happier note (and some pictures). 
Sprachcamp is truly an incredible experience. 
Yeah yeah...I know that everyone says their mission trip is the best ever, 
but this one just happens to be right up my alley. 
I get to play games all week, 
its on the beach, 
and for some bizarre reason they think my dorkiness is cool ;) 
It's amazing to me how God can personally design me to be specifically effective in a place like this, and the ministry He is doing in Germany through camp is definately one that I want to be a part of as long as I am still effective there. 
More pictures to come soon!!Wednesday, August 09, 2006
I think it's midnight in Germany...
I keep trying to think of reasons why I'm glad that I'm home. I can get online as much as I want, I'm going to straiten my hair and fully fix my makeup for the first time in three weeks, and I bought a bunch of fruit at the grocery store.
Alas, I'm eating Nutella and bread, checking emails from all my German friends, and re-reading camp books. I hate this part.
Well, I'm not really sure how you're supposed to sum up a missions trip. I wrote a little bit in my journal on the airplane home:
"These past weeks were incredible, to say the least. Meeting and encouraging so many brothers and sisters was such a wonderful blessing...My heart aches for [the pain and struggles that so many of them deal with]. It really makes me want to uproot and move to Germany..."
No really...I think what has made it so hard for me to return home these last two years from Sprachcamp is that it is a ministry that I feel completely called to. I am so blessed by how God is able to work through me there so it just makes sense to me that I need to be there physically. I find my heart when I'm serving at camp, and every time those kids get on the bus to go home, pieces of my heart go with them. I want to be actively involved in their lives throughout the year, and email never seems like enough.
One thing about camp this year that I especially enjoyed was all the time I was able to spend talking to Jodi. She and I discussed our ideas about ministry and what kinds of things God has done in our lives. Something she said that really stuck with me was that she and I were the type of people who would move all over the place in ministry...that the normal church or missions lifestyle was not enough for us. She's totally right. I hate sitting still. I want to be a revolutionary--changing the lives of people in significant and monumental ways. I know, I know that God is using me here in LA in great ways that I just don't understand or see them, but I have this powerful twinge inside me that keeps begging for more. I am so encouraged by how much some of my German friends love the Lord. They live in a culture where it isn't really normal and and definately not easy to be a Christian. I want to be there to show them the abundant life that God can give. I hope that's what I did this week, but I ache to live this out year-round.
My "normal" life always feels like stagnacy. I know it's not...I know it doesn't have to be. I know all the church answers to my questions, but those words don't douse the burning I feel inside. Maybe that's cliche or dorky or whatever. But man...there really are no words. It's in me. So when I leave Sprachcamp to come back home, I can't help but feel a bit broken. The aching is hard to handle, and that coupled with the jet-lag can really throw a girl. My body thinks I'm still in Germany, my heart stayed over there, and my mind can't find any reason to keep me here in America much longer.
(A note to the reader: While I normally am all about hearing people's comments to my blog posts, I'd really prefer not to receive any blurbs that attempt to encourage me by spouting Christianese mumbo-jumbo. Granted, I know that these types of comments are written with love and intended to remind me of Biblical truth concerning God's plan for my life; however, I know these church answers. I know that I'll be ok and that God will continue to work on me here in LA. This is not an answer-seeking post but my poor attempt at expressing how I feel on day one back at home. God's got all the answers I'm looking for...just thought I'd write out how I feel just in case it helps someone else to know that they aren't alone. More stories and reflections from Sprachcamp to come.)
Alas, I'm eating Nutella and bread, checking emails from all my German friends, and re-reading camp books. I hate this part.
Well, I'm not really sure how you're supposed to sum up a missions trip. I wrote a little bit in my journal on the airplane home:
"These past weeks were incredible, to say the least. Meeting and encouraging so many brothers and sisters was such a wonderful blessing...My heart aches for [the pain and struggles that so many of them deal with]. It really makes me want to uproot and move to Germany..."
No really...I think what has made it so hard for me to return home these last two years from Sprachcamp is that it is a ministry that I feel completely called to. I am so blessed by how God is able to work through me there so it just makes sense to me that I need to be there physically. I find my heart when I'm serving at camp, and every time those kids get on the bus to go home, pieces of my heart go with them. I want to be actively involved in their lives throughout the year, and email never seems like enough.
One thing about camp this year that I especially enjoyed was all the time I was able to spend talking to Jodi. She and I discussed our ideas about ministry and what kinds of things God has done in our lives. Something she said that really stuck with me was that she and I were the type of people who would move all over the place in ministry...that the normal church or missions lifestyle was not enough for us. She's totally right. I hate sitting still. I want to be a revolutionary--changing the lives of people in significant and monumental ways. I know, I know that God is using me here in LA in great ways that I just don't understand or see them, but I have this powerful twinge inside me that keeps begging for more. I am so encouraged by how much some of my German friends love the Lord. They live in a culture where it isn't really normal and and definately not easy to be a Christian. I want to be there to show them the abundant life that God can give. I hope that's what I did this week, but I ache to live this out year-round.
My "normal" life always feels like stagnacy. I know it's not...I know it doesn't have to be. I know all the church answers to my questions, but those words don't douse the burning I feel inside. Maybe that's cliche or dorky or whatever. But man...there really are no words. It's in me. So when I leave Sprachcamp to come back home, I can't help but feel a bit broken. The aching is hard to handle, and that coupled with the jet-lag can really throw a girl. My body thinks I'm still in Germany, my heart stayed over there, and my mind can't find any reason to keep me here in America much longer.
(A note to the reader: While I normally am all about hearing people's comments to my blog posts, I'd really prefer not to receive any blurbs that attempt to encourage me by spouting Christianese mumbo-jumbo. Granted, I know that these types of comments are written with love and intended to remind me of Biblical truth concerning God's plan for my life; however, I know these church answers. I know that I'll be ok and that God will continue to work on me here in LA. This is not an answer-seeking post but my poor attempt at expressing how I feel on day one back at home. God's got all the answers I'm looking for...just thought I'd write out how I feel just in case it helps someone else to know that they aren't alone. More stories and reflections from Sprachcamp to come.)
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