You Remind Me of Home..

Every time I go back to Texas, it feels a little more strange, a little more foreign, as LA starts to become more and more a home to me. Now that I've been back in this home for a few days, I've explained to a dozen or so people how my trip back to that home was. A quick three minutes is really not long enough to adequately explain all of the bizarre moments that, though once a normal part of my life, stood out this time around as slightly...well...Southern.

So for your reading pleasure, I offer this bullet point version of what it's like to visit my hometown. (Note: these are all actual events that transpired over the week I was there.)

You Know You're in College Station, Texas When....

* You eat biscuits, sausage, and gravy in epic quantities for breakfast at 9 am and mom is concerned that you'll be hungry again before noon.

* You eat again at noon because not doing so throws up concerns that California has turned you into one of them anorexics..

* Dinner does actually involve vegetables but they are cooked until they are mushy and then doused in cheese.

* The meat to all other food ratio is 1 to 1 and mom is worried there won't be enough.

* Your refrigerator contains a box of wine and a jug of sweet tea...3 variations of mayonaise, 4 kinds of barbecue sauce, and preserves or pickles from half a dozen different kitchens.

* When you get together with the rest of the family (a good 15-20 aunts, uncles and cousins) for pizza one night, they've ordered 10 pizzas in two kinds: cheese and pepperoni. You are the only one that notices.

* When it's time to gather for Christmas Eve Enchiladas, no one has a lot of room for the chili or enchiladas because they have filled up on queso dip.

* The lullaby that dad sings to your brother's kid involves hunting and killing a bear. ("The bear goes over the mountain, the bear goes over the mountain, the bear goes over the mountain...he runs from Al and Neil...and gets shot by Bradly too!")

* You drop words like "Pashmina" or "baubles" and no one knows what you mean.

* You go to the one wedding dress shop in town with your best friend who is going to get married next summer and not only do they not have anything in the mermaid silhouette, but the best seller that they make her try on looks like something you wouldn't have been caught dead in at prom...in 1998.

* Family time involves watching cartoons or survival shows while everyone sits at their respective laptops.

* Aunt Shelley declaires that Spongebob is the funniest show on television. A fifteen minute family discussion ensues. You are the only one who doesn't chime in.

* Dinner time conversations turn to lawn mowing, hunting, or audio engineering.

* Your brother shares his love by farting on you and his wife laughs and says, "Guess I get a break this week."

* Your sister shares her love by pouncing on top of you or grabbing you inappropriately.

* Your several-acre backyard is full of trees, wild brush, and extends back to the lake, but you aren't wealthy.

*More important than asking about your job or church is the question, "So is there anyone special in your life?" Then, if you even so much as suggest that you might be the slightest bit more than friends with someone, the follow up is, "So when is Aunt Joy going to meet him?" (from my Aunt Joy) or "So what does his daddy do?" (another family member) or, even better, "How come you didn't bring him home with you?" (my hairdresser). Everyone feigns scrutiny and talks about cleaning guns or dad's shovel and tiller/tractor, but what they really mean is, if he's as cool as you say, we want him in the family.

* Everywhere you go, either you or someone you're with will run into someone you know. Times 3 if you're at Walmart. Times 15 when you go to church.

* You see more children on a Sunday morning than you have all year.

* The Christmas Eve service is like a mini high school reunion. A good portion of your old friends introduce you to their spouse. One or two show off their kid.

* You spend some time outside right as Eve turns to Christmas day, just staring up at the stars. You cry because you can actually see them and think about how wonderful their Creator is and how much he has blessed you.

* Throughout the week, family activities include going to see Mark and Natalie's horses, putting together a puzzle, watching Mama Mia, and going to the "it" bar in town, known to old school locals as "The Chicken," where you play pool next to the rattlesnake cage and drink beer out of a 32 oz. big-e-gulp cup.

* Uncle John asks you to check if his old rattlesnake is still in the cages at the Chicken, because years ago when he frequented the bar and was good friends with the owner, he donated his snake.

* Aunt Joy wears earings that light up and blink. Uncle Jeff gets a tin of government supply crackers as part of his Christmas gift. The most popular gift card is from Gander Mountain.

* Your cousin Kaylee, when asked what she wants to be when she grows up, answers: "A Bride!"

* When you suggest that their behavior is odd, everyone rolls their eyes and says "You're so California." But what they mean is, "We miss you. Come home soon."

* When you pose for the formal family portrait, dad and Neil pull out the guns so they can be in the picture.

* Because this may be the last time in the next several years that all the cousins are together in one place, they insist on taking a picture of all of you. Eight cameras surface and you all try to keep from cracking up over Will's loud whistling/train sounds, Kelly yelling "Cheese!" because it helps Will to focus, and Sandi yelling to Kaylee, "Keep your dress down sweetie!"

* On Christmas day you stand in a circle of 22 family members, holding hands, and you pray a blessing over the meal and ask God to look out for Cousin Mark who is about to go overseas again with the Army.

* The turkey weighs 25 lbs and there's also a ham, but you are still nervous that there won't be enough.

* When you say goodbye to your parents at the airport, Mom cries even though she's done this 20 or more times by now and Dad hugs you and reminds you he's praying for you and the important people in your life. Then they stand and wave to you all the way through security.

* When you get on the plane, you don't look out the window because you're afraid you might start crying too...

Eve

It's the night before Christmas and all through my house, its the aroma of tomorrow's dinner cooking and my dad and I on our respective laptops. Neil and Christina went down about the same time their baby did, and my younger sister (also Christina) ventured upstairs a while ago. On my way back home from tamales at Aunt Debbie's, I lingered outside to look up at the sky. All the downsides of College Station melt into the dark places between the stars. 

Tonight we went to the Christmas Eve service at my home church. There's something warming to the heart about walking into Grace Bible every year and seeing everyone with their families. Even back in high school, at the peak of teenage angst, Christmas Eve marked peace amongst us all, as we take a moment to remember the birth of Christ. 

This year, my family is in full force.  We file into our seats with Aunt Shelley, Uncle Randy and our cousins, Mark and Natalie. It reminisces of days back at the Baptist church where the Coopers (my dad has three sisters and a brother) took up the entire second row pew on the left side. On the stage, Mom sits at the piano and Dad picks up his guitar. Joined by close to a thousand others, we stand to sing. 

Being at home, in and of itself, already makes me a little weepy. Because it's Christmas, we sing a bunch of old hymn-style songs about the coming of Jesus. Next to me, my blood, and seated all throughout the sanctuary, its an impromptu high school reunion--so many people that I have loved and shared with all in the same room for the same purpose. Naturally, I'm beaming and the words come belting from deep within me as I sing of the glories of my God. It's home and it's good. 

My eyes wander from the screens projecting words on either side of the baptistry to a young woman signing a translation to someone on the front row. It is not unusual in a church of our size to have someone available up front to translate the sermon into sign language. But I guess I just had never paid close attention to them growing up--they are interesting to watch, as you see which signs mimic which words, but mostly they have served as no more than a distraction when the sermon got too deep or uninteresting for my childhood attention span. What stood out to me tonight though, and what got me more choked up than when they called all the little children down to the front for the children's service, was watching the woman that the translator signed for, also signing the same words that I was singing with my voice. Watching her praise God in the language she understood reminded me of how big He actually is--He transcends language barriers and disabilities, and receives glory from an honest heart, no matter the medium. For the rest of the worship set, I mouthed the words, so overcome with joy and awe at pondering my Creator that my vocal chords were inadequate to communicate such a powerful outpouring of my soul. 

My sister refers to December 23rd as "Christmas Adam." Adam came before Eve, she explains, and so it's only logical to call the day before Christmas Eve by his name. To the rest of the world, Eve is the anticipation of the day to come, and in tonight, there are some elements of looking forward to the presents we will share and wonderful food we will serve tomorrow. But thanks to my my kooky sister, Eve also holds the foretelling of a beginning, the mother of all that is living, who points to the mother who bore a child that would one day be called the Living Water, a Living Sacrifice, Holy, Blameless...the Christ. 

In five minutes, it will officially be Christmas here, and I can think of nothing more wonderful to do now than bundle myself up and go outside to gaze into the stars that long ago witnessed and told of God's humble birth in a manger in Bethlehem. The Creator, entering creation, so that He might restore the relationship we lost with Adam and Eve and sin. 

Tonight, I remember He is beautiful. 

Is it sinful to desire to be loved?

I scribbled these words in large letters across the face of my open journal and then went back to folding my laundry. It is a good night when something gets me so intrigued that I can't put myself to sleep until I figure it out. It is worth every yawn tomorrow to have stayed up late tonight to write about it.

I wanted to process my thoughts biblically, to siphon my ideas through what Scripture has to say. It starts with, God is love. The Old Testament is riddled with examples of God's steadfast love. In fact, the phrase "steadfast love" could fill its own entry in my concordance, as this seems to be the most common adjective used to record God's response to a nation who continues to turn away from the One who always remains.

God is love, so we, in light of wanting to become more like Him, ought to love one another, and that love can manifest itself in many different ways. Sometimes it comes in the form of a rebuke, sometimes it comes with a kiss. God does not have to say at the end of a honoring life, "Well done, good and faithful servant." But He does. Saying He's proud of us communicates love. Though we may share our love with each other in many different ways, through our speech and actions--sometimes in outright compassion and gentle care and sometimes in smacking our hand when we reach for a hot stove--the important thing is that we do share love with one another.

What characterizes the life of a Christian, though, goes well beyond basking in the love of God all day. The Bible calls us to submit, trust, follow His law, pursue righteousness, actively run from evil and so forth. But before all of it, is love. And if we could really see clearly just how grand God's love actually is, then the nose-to-the-grindstone parts of life would be a joy. It's easy to submit and follow God's law when you rest securely in knowing that you are loved by the one who's guiding you. If I really and fully believe how much God loves me, then when He says, "Give up theatre and follow me," I say, "Let's roll." If you know that someone really loves you, you trust them easily, you listen easily, you submit easily.

I used to believe that you had to first know someone well before you had the "right" to call them out on a sin or inconsistency in their life, but now I'm starting to think that all you have to do is love them well. It's the whole idea of a "confrontation sandwich" (cheesy, I know, but go with me here). When you need to confront someone about something they are doing wrong, says this theory, you begin by building them up ("I really appreciate your work ethic and dedication to the company.."), then explain what you would like them to work on ("...but sometimes your enthusiasm comes off to the customers as aggressive."), and end on an uplifting note ("I am confidant, though, that you will be able to curb your attitude and continue as an asset to our team."). It has the potential to come off as cheesy, but when done correctly, serves much better to accomplish the goal at hand than the cut-to-the-chase alternative. Please don't misunderstand--there is a time and place for that--sometimes the most loving thing you can do is firmly tell someone they're screwing things up and need to change, now. Still, there are times when the more effective course of action is to slow down and love first. What may take a mere two minutes longer--to reassure the person that you are saying this only in love--usually illicits a more positive response. After all, who can look into compassionate and loving eyes and spit into the face of the love they convey. It follows, then, that the best way to bring about change in the lives of those around you is to communicate your love in every way possible--not only in rooting out their sin, but in appreciating their company, reminding them of their value in Christ, and encouraging them in their pursuit of godliness.

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another;
just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.
By this all people will know you are my disciples,
if you have love for one another.
John 13:34-35

In pondering these ideas of love and the how-to's of it all, 2 am chased me onto a different rabbit trail, which was probably a good thing. Mulling over my own selfish desire to be loved holds no benefit, especially in light of the great work that can be done when I focus on unabashedly loving others in every way I know how. The question remains, then, and is perhaps more simple to answer than some of the other questions it brought up. Created in God's image, we desire relationships. We were made to be in relationship with God, and the bonds we create on this earth, when modeled scripturally, are designed to give a glimpse of how great our God is. Meaning, when someone loves me well, and my head is in the right place, my first thought is this: if this is only a fraction of the love that God has for me, I am utterly blessed indeed. And praise be to our God.

Fortunately for us, those who so easily become insecure or forget we are loved, the Bible is full of examples of God communicating His love and compassion toward his people...

Even though we were terrible sinners, Christ died for us. (Rom 5:8)

We are referred to as a "chosen race." We are called beloved repeatedly in the Psalms and cared for far beyond the birds and the flowers in the field (1 Pet 2:9, Ps 127, Luke 12:22-34)

He is our refuge, and a place to cast our anxieties; he offers peace (Ps 32:7, 46:1, 119:114, 1 Pet 5:7, Phil 4:6-7)

We are blessed to go through trials, because those are the things that produce steadfastness within us. (James 1:2-4)

God gives to his children generously. He listens to our requests and will do what we ask in His name (James 1:5, Matt 16:23-24)

He allows his disciples to see glimpses of His glory, like in the transfiguration. (Matt 17:1-13)

Jesus eats and drinks among people, enjoys the company of even the lowest of society, makes water into wine to keep a party going, goes into the wilderness with his disciples to recharge with them there.

God gives blessings to His people and honors his covenants: gives a child to Sarah who was barren, gives wisdom to Solomon, delivers the Israelites from captivity in Egypt.

God wires us to desire love. Then, He fulfils it.

From Grace to Now

I was utterly blessed to grow up in a church where I received theologically sound teaching as well as nurturing discipleship. I can look to a long list of names of women who took time out of their busy lives to pour into me--to encourage me to love and follow God more and more. Men and women who taught me what it means to have a relationship with God--that being a Christian means so much more than rote religious practice, that the Creator of the universe loves me so much that He would sacrifice His only Son so that I would be able to call Him friend.

Grace Bible Church has always felt like my first church family, a foundation that the Lord used to make me into the person I am today. Going home means going to Grace. Surrounded by hundreds of faces I don't recognize, the look of a changed church body, oh how I love them still. These people who are to each other what so many families were to me. I love the Christmas Eve service because I get to see all my friends with their parents and siblings, so many people who despite the disputes of a dramatic adolescence love each other so deeply. We are a college town, but underneath all the transient students lays the solid rock of families who love God and desire to see their children follow Him.

It only made sense that when I received an email from the mother of one of my good friends this morning, my heart broke a little. Laura and I floated in and out of closeness through Jr. High and High School, but when we both left College Station to go elsewhere to school, we found a bond that transcended so many of our differences from the years before. I saw how beautiful Laura had become in light of how God had made her--that in a new place, with friends who saw into her, Laura blossomed. Coming home after that meant picking right up from where we left off, looking into the eyes of a sister that had shared so much with me growing up...who shared so much more with me, now miles apart, as we dealt with many of the same trials and joys of spreading our wings. This Christmas I will see Laura for the first time in several years. I expect to smile and embrace and enjoy family.

Mrs. Breedlove's email was addressed to Laura, me and our friend Mitzi, my long ago triad:

"I am in charge of finding Advent readers and candle lighters for the holidays and wanted to know if the three of you would like to do it together on Sunday the 21st? Traditionally I look for a mix of people...couples, young families, children, singles, etc. I just saw in the three of you beautiful young women, who had known each other for years, raised up at Grace, thriving in the Lord..."

I wept because of the beauty of it. Because I hope some day I will write these things to my daughters. There is nothing more honoring for a parent than to watch their children grow into their own relationship with God--to see them go out into the world and live lives that please the Lord, that seek to know and follow Him. And I just thought--how wonderful will it be to stand with my friends, my sisters, before the church that raised us to say, God took care of us. You prayed and He is faithful. You loved us and in it, we saw the love of Christ and here we are, chasing Him still.

I owe much to my parents. I owe much to the church family who also took me as their child. I owe the utmost praise to God for blessing me with all of them.

Then, my family at Shoreline. I looked over at Harper the other day and realized that when I first met all of these people, his mother was just starting to show. I have watched him grow. And with him, my family grew, weaved together into the relationships that bless me every day. And I think maybe one day, should the Lord bless me in this too, this family will watch my own child grow in me, will be mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters to that child, will stand next to me to raise her too, and when she leaves our family and comes home for Christmas, she will stand before us all and say she learned the love of God here.

An Amazing Grace.

Country Sampler--comes with bacon, sausage, eggs, ham and a little steak for good measure.

Here's a little bit of what's been rollin through my iTunes lately: country music, my roots. Ahh...feels like home.

(click on the title to listen to them on YouTube--excuse the video presentation--some are just photo compilations, some are actual music videos, most are fairly cheesy...)

"All I Ever Wanted"
Chuck Wicks

"I Love the Rain the Most"
Joe Purdy

"Love Story"
Taylor Swift

"Guinevere"
Eli Young Band

"Roll With Me"
Montgomery Gentry

"Oh Love"
Brad Paisley, feat. Carrie Underwood

"Country Man"
Luke Bryan

Manhood

Watch it turn...

"Manly Man" by Bradley Hathaway

Flattery

I woke up the other day to a barrage of emails in my inbox from blogger. My friend's boyfriend had apparently discovered my blog and decided to read and post on every other odd. Like and eEaster Egg hunt, I challenge you to find and read his comments.

One of them, a quotation, I wanted to re-post just in case not everyone has subscribed to my comments on their Google Reader...

"Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to."

-Tolkien

It reminded me of something a friend of mine once told me: if it were possible to miss "the one" then it would take a very short time for the entire world to end up marrying the wrong people--because if you married someone else's "one" instead of your own, then you'd be messing up the marriage of their partner, who would marry someone else, and screw up another couple...and so on and so forth. In a world of sinful people (who, left unguided, would most likely screw things up pretty quickly), there's got to be a larger something coordinating things.

Still, we obsess. And in obsessing over trying to find that "more suitable mate," we get a little skittish at settling down with anyone. We believe the lie that some other person (the one we will marry) is going to be what makes us happy, when the Bible says that marriage itself (and the intimacy of relationship experienced therein) will be the blessing we long for.

While an imperfect person will certainly disappoint, God's design in marriage will continue to make us more holy and happy with each passing year.

Encouragement for the Dry Spell

No fancy intro, just wanted to post something that really encouraged me this morning:

In reading My Utmost for His Highest, I got to a passage about Moses--one of the great leaders of Jewish history, known for bringing the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. It's a great story...parting seas, a flip-flopping ruler, manna and fire pillars and all sorts of rad stuff. In lieu of all the action, the part of the story I usually breeze over comes a little earlier (just after the baby floating down the river in a basket bit). As a young man, Moses becomes aware of who he is, an Israelite adopted into the royal Egyptian family, and how his people have been treated as slaves. Burdened for his own, Moses realizes that he may be positionally equipped to lead them out of slavery. Gung ho, I'm sure his prayers sounded a little like mine--pursuing a God-honoring goal and ready to conquer the world with naiive, but good intentions.

Then God sent him into the desert for FORTY YEARS. How frustrating that must have been, to seek out what seems like a noble path only to have God say, "Nope."

What I sometimes fail to understand (and what Oswald Chambers, oh so kindly pointed out) is that God's got a better idea of how my life should run than I do. It's easy to get frustrated when I feel like my prayers are seeking something good (like marriage and family, missions opportunites, etc) yet they continue to go unfulfilled. It's good to be reminded that those desert places in life are actually vitally important when it comes to how God is shaping me as a person, breaking down my pride and disciplining my wayward heart. The desert isn't just a holding pen until other parts of life can fall into place, but rather, they serve their own vital purpose.

And while I'm here, I plan to enjoy what God is giving me and pursue righteousness for the sake of simply being holy. It would be easy to grin and bear the heat, all the while pining for the day I can get back to "reality," but that would completely undermine my faith in a soveriegn God who causes all things to work together for His good purpose. After all, why waste time whining when I can roll out my beach towel, don my oversized LA sunglasses, and get a tan.

Delightful

I'm staying up late tonight because I can. I can enjoy the night sky and the one star I can see through the power-lines and ambient LA light on my back alley balcony. I can enjoy nostalgia and country music. I can enjoy spending time reading.

And I am.

Here's a tidbit I came across, a top 20 list of "Marriage Rules"

Some highlights...

2. Don't marry a man who is neater than you are. You may, however, marry a man who polishes his tools and puts them away after use....

3. Don't marry anybody, man or woman, who says, "I'm going to call you at eight," and then leaves you waiting by the phone for an hour. Exceptions can be made for people who are kidnapped by Arabs, or who have epileptic seizures.

5. Don't marry a woman who spends more on makeup than she does on food. In general, don't marry a woman who engages in the sin of reverse gluttony.

8. Do not marry a man who treats his mother or his sisters discourteously. As he treats his mother, so will he treat you. But by all means do not marry a man who takes his direction from his mother, or who is ruled by his mother's ambitions. Mama's boys are unhappy, and they make their wives unhappy too. So are the mothers of mama's boys, come to think of it. Unhappy days are here again.

15. Never marry a man who is not admired by respectable male friends. The people in the world who know a man best are the men he works and plays with. They know well if he is a cheat, a thug, a loser. You may marry a man who does not have female friends. If anything, you should be suspicious of a man whose friends are principally female. The men may be avoiding him, and there is a reason for that.

Which are your favorites?

Letter to My Boss

G-Chat Status: Meredith Cooper
is over the corporate ladder.


TO: Roz, Regional Manager, Owner of my employed soul.

FROM: Meredith, Director

SUBJECT: Performance Review

BODY:

Tonight Shelly and I stayed at Prep until 11:45 working on her college essays. Finally home, I'm coming down off the adrenaline rush that kept me patiently editing, musing, discussing--a smile or joke to boost morale--and finally we close the day. This is a bearable exhaustion: to accomplish a task that means her world.

I don't intend to make a habit of staying late, knowing full well that better planning would have prevented my over-extension, but tonight, it was my joy. I signed on with Prep for nights like these. I'm tired, but it's the good kind of tired. The drive home was different than it has been for the last weeks, months even. Today mattered.

I must confess, my heart has never been in the numbers. When Keith, yourself, and I have time to sit and discuss my performance, I plan to leave salary by the wayside. Nights like these give more purpose to my position than any billing report ever could. They remind me that I never intended to climb any corporate ladder in the first place. In the last few months, I believe I've mistaken what I could do with what I should do and got caught up in the anxiety of selling programs, a yes-man looking toward the financial pay-off that I assumed would make it all worthwhile. I abandoned myself in the process.

By all means, I will continue to do what needs to be done at Prep Center. I have every intention of honoring my commitment to stay for at least two more years, and I will continue to strive toward excellence in my work because I feel that my performance here is a direct reflection of who I am and what I believe. If there is a review to be had, perhaps these are the things to discuss.

Over

It's late.

I'm at that delicate balance between wired and crashing, where I know that all sleep requires is horizontal stillness...perhaps merely laying my head down here on the dining table, where instead I feverishly peck at my keyboard.

Read college essays, give feedback--round two, three, four. An excel sheet sums up the future for thirteen high school seniors. I double check the bills and initial each one. M. Y. C. The letters blend together. A symbol meaning I'm here. Duty done. Unexpected expectations, fulfilled.

With the exception of the concerned parent in Korea I just emailed, the rest of my world sleeps. On nights like tonight, I remember the silent strength I learned in high school--that second wind I discovered on late nights spent finishing a book for AP English or another costume for the stage production I designed. A perseverance beyond the norm--my daddy's "do what you have to" attitude, applied and mastered. Somehow, busyness was happier then.

Last week, my pastor and his wife were gracious enough to invite me over after work (despite my late night schedule) to process through some of my current frustrations with life. The conversation quickly turned into a discussion of God's sovereignty. What if--I posed my greatest fear--I did something to step out of the will of God?

Nearly a week later, Scott's reply rings clearly: you have to remember that you are exactly where God wants you--that there's nothing you did, or could have done, to step outside of that. This may not be where He wants you a year from now or even in just a few months, but if you really believe that what Scripture says is true--then you must also believe that you didn't make a mistake somewhere along the line that surprised God, nor does He have you in some holiness holding pen, waiting for you to figure a few things out before He gives you what you "really want." Here and now are in God's will. To think you can screw that up is to shrink God.

It's a lot of Christianese that I should probably clarify, although the creeping hours of night discourage me from it--his point was simply, trust in God.

At Shoreline, part of our mission statement is that we want to present everyone in West LA with "full and accurate picture of God." I enjoy striving toward that--seeing practically in my life where my weak faith directly correlates to a limited understanding of God's greatness. Bible verses, conditioned into memory like a secular mantra parade, can only have a lasting effect if I trust that the God who inspired them is really Who He says He is: perfectly loving, perfectly just, perfectly gracious, perfectly pure, perfectly holy, righteous, omniscient, omnipotent, and so on.

Then to know that this God--so big, so beyond my comprehension--also knows and cares for the intimate desires of my heart...it blows my mind.

In the middle of the night, when restlessness finally gives in to peace, I know it's a gift of God. Lately, I'm not particularly happy with my circumstances. I tend to feel anxious and overwhelmed, overworked, ineffective. Then, arching over it all, a gentle reminder that God is bigger. A children's song. A simple truth. Words from a good friend. Joy.

On my table, in a vase, two lilies open wide and full, a fragrance of life. A screwdriver still feels fixing my doornob. A wine class, emptied.

I close my day.

Men and Women

Lots of news lately in there Mere-o-sphere on Men versus Women, especially with our current political climate and my own musings about life and Panning.

I am reminded that just after "It is not good for the man to be alone" (Gen 2:18), God punishes the woman for her sin with, "Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you." (3:16). Many cite the Fall of Man (a Christianese term meaning, when Adam and Eve first sinned) as the point that pitted men and women against each other. One commentary expands on this idea:

"...the entrance of sin has made that duty [of submission] a punishment, which otherwise it would not have been. If man had not sinned, he would always have ruled with wisdom and love; and, if the woman had not sinned, she would always have obeyed with humility and meekness; and then the dominion would have been no grievance: but our own sin and folly make our yoke heavy."

Point being, since shortly after the beginning, men and women have fought each other for power and dominance--both parties unsatisfied and denying their roles. This goes well beyond women wanting to work (which I don't believe Scripture speaks against, an entire topic that is presented much better by many others, especially recently, like here, here and here) and men not wanting to marry. At the heart of it, we are walking away from God's design and blaming each other for our own failures. For men and women to act properly toward each other, sometimes even just to get along, requires and act of God, and if we want to see this actually pan out, we need to pray toward it.

"How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." (Matthew 7:4-5)

In other news, my toes are still numb, I still don't know who Anonymous Number 2/5 is on the Peter Pan Post, and despite tirading hypothetically on the subject, I don't feel any closer to actually improving the state of male-female relationships in my life.

Teacher, can't I just copy the answers from the back of the book and be finished with it?

For the last 48 hours or so, my g-chat status has said, "Meredith Cooper has lots of questions."

It really wasn't the wisest thing to put up for all to see, because as encrypted messages go, this one solicits quite a lot of, well, questioning. In the midst of pondering several big issues in life, I'm not exactly ready to explain myself to the everyday gmail-passerby.

Still, my vague announcement offers insight into the psyche of Mere. On some level, I want people to have an idea, at least amorphously, that I'm struggling, but rarely do I want to get into the nitty gritty of it. I avoid episodes (like one I had the other night) where I involuntarily break down in front of one of those friends who's really not "in" enough for me to know that the sight of my mascara strewn face won't make him run for the hills. I keep it together because despite preaching vulnerability (and I think perhaps actually being fairly good at it at some point in my past), I prefer that people see me as a strong and pleasant person. I don't want to be a burden, I think, forgetting that by allowing others to bear my burdens, I afford them an opportunity to display Christlikeness. I forget that intimacy and fellowship are the first steps to being like Christ, how only in community can we actually carry out many of the commands of scripture--to be forgiving, patient, to lead and share wisdom.

So I did post for the world to see, and am furthering the cause with this, that I am praying through some life stuff, that I am asking questions of God and waiting patiently and persistantly for His response. A few people have messaged me to offer an answer--to one I jokingly finished his sentence: yes, I do know the answer, "Jesus!" I hoped the exclamation point was sufficient to convey the childlike (albeit sarcastic) enthusiasm that I once used to answer every question in Sunday School. It was a joke. It felt cliche. But I knew it was true.

It's like so much math homework, I realized. I know the solution--the answers to all the odds are in the back of the book--but now I'm mulling through the process of showing my work. Like I tell my students, you have to practice it so it will sink in. The homework is just extra studying, extra practice for the test.

And so it is, I assume, in my life. It's not in the finishing that life comes, not even always in the tests, but life, rather, is lived in the daily journey. Seemingly cliche, but true in a way that rises above it. Sometimes the questions are hard--I don't always know how to get there, but at least I know what the end point looks like, what I should start running toward and why.

Correcting Peter Pan means more than just thinking happy thoughts.

**Updated in response to Anonymous and insightful comment**

I'm hesitant to post this article, "Why I Am Leaving Guyland," not because I find any flaw in its logic or inappropriateness in its tone. Rather, I fear that, for the men in my life, it would be coming from the wrong source.

To be a girl referencing an article about "Peter Pan Syndrome" and "Adultescence" rarely comes without the slightest twinge of bitterness. It's like how I couldn't casually recommend a self-help book on the calming effect of an organized home to a messy roommate who might legitimately need the advice--there's a more appropriate way to address such an issue. In many cases, the source of reproach can make all the difference.

But what actually struck me from the article, aside from the legitimate argument against encouraging prolonged childhood, and the angle I wanted to discuss, were the statistics presented about women's salaries:

"Last year, researchers at Queens College in New York determined that women between 21 and 30 in at least five major cities, including Dallas, Chicago and New York, have not only made up the wage gap since 1970—they now earn upwards of 15 percent more than their male counterparts. As a result, many men feel redundant."

"Not enough!" I can hear my old feminism professor's tirade ringing in my ears. Until she deems it perfect equality, she will not be satisfied. Yet, I'm baffled. On one hand, I am tempted to think it positive that women are finding their place in life and finally being paid more equally for their work. There are more of us in college now and more taking executive positions. Though maybe still not equal, we are definitely making some great progress.

Progress. Then I think about all the different women I know who are getting master's degrees because, without the marriage and family they expected, they just kept learning in order vie for a career. I think about how, when work feels overwhelming, I sometimes wish I'd followed Plan A, which would have me at home with kids instead. We didn't mean to make our men feel redundant. We just didn't know what else to do. We progressed--that is, we, to our detriment, moved in a direction we were told was forward.

It's no wonder I find myself drawn to guys who are in the upper 20s/early 30s range. Guys my age are generally still figuring themselves out (of course so are some of the 30-somethings). As I'm getting a little more settled, I'm generally interested in men who are on the same trajectory, which often means five to ten years my senior.

In discussing the article earlier today, a friend of mine put it like this: "I think the point was that the women were surpassing men because women were acting like adults where the men still wanted to act like kids." His words ring harshly, but as one of the men I know who is definitely a man, I figure he's allowed to put it that way. I, as a woman, dare not.

My question in all of this hits a little more practically. If this is the problem, what can we do to help? As a woman, how do I best discourage this kind of behavior in the men I know without coming across as bitter, cynical, judging, etc, etc? Ultimately, what honors God the most?

I have a hunch there's a balance somewhere between women grabbing at power and men throwing hands up in disgust and letting us have it. Eve did it to Adam, and ever since, the fight for who ends up on top has permeated the battle of the sexes.

But what I find most frustrating is that the church is not exempt from this problem. Call me elitist, but when I see an issue like this, it's easy to attribute it simply to not knowing God and not knowing any better--the rest of the world doesn't follow God's design for how men and women should relate to one another, and therefore, encounter problems. However, proof that church people are just as messed up, just as needy of grace, we run into the same blunders. We say we follow God, and He tells us how to do relationships right...but we mess it all up.

I imagine what it would look like if we lived counter-culturally in this area--if we pursued marriages that honored God, that were passionate and fun, that encouraged and built character, relationships that proved to the rest of the world that God knew what he was talking about when he said, "It is not good for man to be alone." Our generation runs from marriage because we have shoddy examples of it, but if the church could show off marriage in a real and tangible way, what a beautiful reflection that would be of its designer, our God.

If we were a little more pro-marriage out here in the West Coast Church, those of us still single might actually want to pair off and settle down ourselves. Meanwhile, we need not nag our men to just "grow up" or whine about how "we are worth it" and, why don't they understand that? No, God is worth it--His truth is worth it, and relationships themselves, as God designed, are innately good and should be pursued as such. We could all benefit from a little more pointing to and pursing Christ and a little less angst, frustration, and selfish ambition. To God be the glory.

"So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart. Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will."

-2 Timothy 2:22-26

On Women, Onward Women

Perhaps because I still have a rosy idea of what it will look like, I can't wait to practice submission with a godly husband. I hate submitting to my boss.

I think, how beautiful it will be to submit to someone who desires my good, a man who has committed to me, and I to him...someone God designed to uniquely balance and sanctify me. While I know on a cognitive level that it will be very hard in a lot of ways, I long to experience the joys and blessings that God promises in marriage. My heart dismisses the difficulty because I know, or at least I think I do, that the highs will outweigh the lows in a wonderful way.

The workplace, on the other hand, is not designed for my welfare but instead exists as an institution meant to use me for what I'm worth and compensate accordingly. It's like prostitution.

I have to get up this morning so the plumber can fix a few things in my new place. I read some old journal entries--things I wrote but was afraid to share last month, things I feel strong enough to read again. I read God's word:

"Servants, be subject to your masters will all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the unjust. For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly."

-I Peter 2:18-19

I wanted to read about women, relationships, submission. I forgot that this part came first, but God knew and, after last night, I think he also knew I needed to read those words this morning.

When work gets hard, I am often tempted to resent my job--thinking of how I wanted a marriage and a family and instead was cursed by a career. I'm embarrassed by the thoughts that seep in at any opportune moment, causing me to stumble, to doubt. It's easy to forget that God has also destined this stage in my life as preparation for the things to come--be it marriage and family or some other adventure. But this morning He lets me see that I'm learning submission in another context.

Last night, in the dark of my new apartment, I fumbled for a piece of paper on which to write the electrician's phone number. She spoke too fast on my voice mail. I need to buy a lamp. In the back of my Bible, I found a note card from the first week of our summer Bible Study. On it we were asked to write something--I can't remember the charge--but whatever the question, my answer was two bullet points: "humility" and "staying soft." I think I prayed for those things this last June.

This morning, a few journal entries, two of which are previously posted, reminded me that God was actually working in my heart on these issues. They may be the biggest two that I have to battle for the next few years. Or this may be the calm before the real storm. Regardless, I see answered prayers.

These last days have been full of introspection. Without internet (this I write at Dolores Restaurant down the street), I have less to distract me. Between listening to Cornerstone's relationship series and a couple of late night talks with good friends, I'm mulling through the desires of my heart and over analyzing, or perhaps analyzing over again, what it means to be a woman.

As a pre-teen, I remember sitting on my bed with my little sister, trying to teach her the point of I Peter 3:3-4, an idea that mom reinforced with her old-school mantras: "Pretty is as pretty does."

I spoke to my sister boldly, "'Do not let your adornment be merely outward: arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel. But rather, let it be the inner person of the heart, with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.' See, Christina--it's in the Bible, just like mom says: Pretty is on the inside."

Even if I barely understood what it was, I knew I wanted a gentle and quiet spirit. I was a loud kid. I'm a loud adult. But I hope that God continues to develop a gentleness in me that beautifully displays His glory as our Comforter, Healer, and Helper.

A couple of nights ago, as often happens with a particular friend of mine, goodbye turned into a marathon conversation. We talked of the church, failures in community, society, work, and the weaknesses of how men and women deal with pent up frustration. Ideas well worth another post, what I walked away with, overall, was a grand sense of appreciation for how he looks at the world differently than I do. Women certainly have a tendency towards gossip--a harmful dumping of emotions that is quite unfortunately, socially acceptable in America today. So when we get caught in the middle of it, we don't call ourselves out quickly enough. Men, or at least some of them, will notice it faster. Godly men, will call you on it.

In the same way, women retain a certain perceptiveness, care, and understanding that allows us to minister to others in ways that men are not as effective. It's the same balance that makes submission work--godly love and leadership in a man encourages his wife's humble submission just as a woman's gentleness and care builds up her husband toward Christ's likeness. Humility. Staying soft. Iron sharpens iron.

A True Story

July 20, 2008

As I opened one particularly musty box, I was thankful that the Texas heat necessitated crisp air-conditioning in every home. Each time I come back, I notice the difference just a little bit more.

This afternoon was dedicated to pouring through my old things--sorting boxes into new boxes--what I should save versus what to trash or give away. The final box was miniature linens--doll bedding, a little mattress, the little silk patchwork quilt my grandmother made. I lifted piece by piece, soaking in the smell of myself from well over fifteen years ago. Then I saw her--the baby doll I drug around from age one to whenever I was finally convinced I was too old for dolls. I held her close to my heart and breathed in. The old blanket she was wrapped in caught a few more tears as they fell through my closed eyes--a few more tears to add to all the ones she'd dried long ago. All of a sudden, the walls I'd built around my heart didn't feel so sturdy.

I carried Baby with me as I finished putting things away. Making my way to the other side of the bed, I knelt beside my doll chest and opened its fragile wooden doors. I was almost afraid to touch them, to thumb my way through the years represented by so many dresses and shoes. Instead, I collapsed, Baby in my arms, onto my bed. My mom watched it all silently, herself trying not to cry. I think she could feel it too--my heart actually breaking. I found my softness there in those worn cloth hands and chipped blue eyes. Baby still smiled.

"Do you want me to leave you alone for a little while?"

"No it's alright."

A pause. She walked around to sit beside me. Her small-town Tennessee accent melted through her words, "Well I'm afraid if I stay, I'm liable to cry too." And she did.

I looked up through my own tears and whispered a secret I've been so afraid to ask for so long: "Do you think that one day I'll have a little girl who will play with these dolls again?"

"Yes, honey, I know it. You will. God knows. He knows the desires of your heart..."

I'd forgotten them. Buried them, walled them out, or burned them away.

But God remembered. He helped me find myself once again.

A Short Story

July 6, 2008

Cherrie looked up from her book. Somehow today, ancient civilizations didn't captivate her like they always had. The air was dry but hot. Deep inside, the pit of her stomach revolted the scene that played with cinematic perfection in her head--Tom and Rachel were at lunch again. Rachel picked a fry from his plate, unsatisfied with the salad she chose. Their eyes met dreamily--the quiet combination of conquest and giving in. It wasn't their union that irked Cherrie so, although righteously, she knew it should be. Instead, it was her raging jealousy that initiated this perpetual cycle of self-loathing. She knew it wasn't right--her doctrine was sound--but the slinking misgivings haunted her whenever life stilled for a moment. Unable to slip back into the anonymity of the textbook's past, Cherrie wrestled today. She was coveting idols. From such an unsettled place, settling sounded so good.

"My relative forced me to take energy drinks, telling me to stay active and to make the most out of a day."

As I read this essay aloud, the Prep staff couldn't keep it together, each of us imagining a version of Keith, our boss, holding this student against his will and pouring Monster down his constricting throat. Kids say the funniest things.

Every year, the process goes something like this--we ask the students to give us a draft of what they'd like to write in their college essay. Everyone puts it off until the last minute. Most of them are somehow still shocked when we reject their underdeveloped musings.

"These are ALL re-writes! Why are we even here?!" Keith doesn't bother to mask his irritation. "I'm so disappointed in them."

Ashanti and I, the broody, literary ones in the bunch, fight for the kids: "They're trying to say something here--we just need to figure out how to direct and shape it. Obviously if they wrote about it, then it means something to them...we just have to help them define why it matters."

It's a repeat of last year, whose highlights included one guy's discussion of how he admired Hitler and another American-born student who some of the teachers assumed was ESL. This year touts some bitter PKs and the line, "I supposed that they became very religious since they were closing in their last days in life." But the essays are never good during the first round.

I enjoy this whole process for several reasons: first and foremost, it's a really neat way to get to know the kids I work with--their deepest stuff comes out in these essays and it allows for some cool conversations about life and all that goes into it. It's also a delightful bonding experience for the main staff. I think the students would cringe, cry or worse if they were to sit in on our meetings, watching us hash out what we like and don't and why. In the end, though, we come out with some really beautiful stuff--like last year's essay about make up or the one about feeding dogs a raw diet. Quirky, insightful, wonderful. I love my job.

"For the first week of summer, I would wake up to see the sun at its brightest: the afternoon."

Obligatory Olympics Post

I have nothing insightful to say about the Olympics. I, like billions of other people around the world, have been sucked in. I don't sleep. I don't socialize. I stay glued to the television. To stave off withdrawals during commercial breaks, I bake (because I can't figure out how to use Greg and Liz's TiVo). I know I'm getting dumber, and I'm pretty sure the obsession is un-Christian of me. In fact, I didn't even think to be upset by how skimpy the athletic uniforms are. So instead of depth, I'm offering commentary in the form of a few "thanks for participating" awards.

Most Eligible Chinese Gymnast: the toothy girl
She's finally losing her baby teeth and getting those permanent ones in. Must mean she is post-puberty. Ah to be 16 again...

Cheesiest Male Gymnast: Jonathan Horton
He reminds me of this guy I used to date... I am so ashamed.

Best Gymnastics Moment: watching Nastia Liukin hug her dad
I'm a self-proclaimed sap when any father-daughter country song comes on the radio, so watching Liukin and her coach-slash-gold-medalist-slash-dad celebrate her gold was precious. Besides, what a rad name is Nastia? I'm totally calling my kid that.

Hottest Olympic Swimmer: Ryan Lochte
Doesn't matter if his gold-count is down, it's Lochte over Phelps in my book. Swim cap or tousled hair, I'd take him any which way...preferably several which ways... I'm thinking that swimmers might be the way to go for me. They have no body hair. I like this. Also a good upgrade--the swim pant-suit-thing replacing the Speedo.
Runner up: the big French guy...because he's a beast...

Best Swimming Moment: watching the judge behind Michael Phelps repeatedly check him out while he's setting up to race.
"Making sure he's not cheating," an excellent excuse...
Runner Up: ok ok...that 4x100 mens relay comeback was pretty cool too.

Best Athlete Group to Date: the fencing guys
Most of them are from Harvard or other such super-nerdy schools. Nerdy and athletic...what a combo...

Most Tedious Event to Watch: the Marathon.
Granted, I would be lucky to finish in TWICE as long, but still...well over two hours and counting...

(stay tuned, more to come)

Deep Waters Make for an Exciting Swim

"I hope you don't walk away from this discouraged--that's not my intention..."

These words from my boss today made the difference between the state I'm in now and the fitful panic attack I anticipated having as soon as I found five minutes to myself. It was another long day of meetings and conference calls with the only two people at my work who have enough authority to make my life a living hell. Every now and then the regional manager comes in a hurricane to my center, asking all the questions I'm unprepared for and none of ones I had on tap. My bosses expect me to know everything that has happened in the last six weeks of the summer program for each of the 50 or so students that walk through the Prep Center doors every day. As director, part of my responsibility is to be able to spit back at any given moment the specifics of each kid: which subjects they struggle in, what their last three or so essay and test grades were in each class, who their parents are, etc. I split them into categories and scribble notes and codes all throughout their red folders. I create Excel sheet after Excel sheet to keep myself organized, and still, it's that 20% I'm fuzzy on that I get asked about during these tirades. Meanwhile, they throw little projects my way and I have to stay on top of curriculum and billing and ordering food and college tours and fall projections and hiring and making copies and the alarm is broken and this room is too hot and this room is too cold and Stacey and Grace's ride is late and Dennis wants to leave early and...and...and...and...and.....

I get overwhelmed.

It's not the truth--the tasks don't run together nearly as badly as I make it sound--but it feels that way some days. I know at least on some level that my bosses really do like me. They've assured me of my job security on multiple occasions and every so often they throw me a line or two that reminds me that they think I'm more than a hopeless case. Keith is training me for management, sculpting me into a mini version of himself.

What I realized today, or recalled rather, is that this is exactly what I signed up for when I asked for the job. The higher your rank, the more responsibility weighs on your head. At the end of the day, most everything is my fault...which is ok with me because what I'm doing isn't normal for someone with my age and education. My theatre degree didn't prepare me for crunching numbers, selling our services, or managing employees. I didn't rise in the ranks after putting the time in, getting to know the company, learning the tricks of the trade. My life is a blessed accident.

Part of what I bargained for (albeit unknowingly) in getting a job I don't deserve are the tides of criticism--I could have put in my time somewhere and gotten to where I am slowly but surely. Instead, I jumped feet first into murky waters. And, naturally, swimming to the surface under these conditions involves mistakes, aches and pains, and swallowing more of my pride than the water I'm choking on. But I can tell I'm getting stronger. On a day like today, after taking a beating by the undercurrent and getting tossed back to shore...it doesn't make me cry this time around.

Weasels, Work Husbands, and The Emotional Affair

"So what, exactly, constitutes an emotional affair – and are you having one without even knowing it?"

One of those dramatic opening lines intended to get you reading an article, this one's a tricky question--something I've come across before, but never really in relation to me, personally. I'm single, after all, so I cannot have an affair since I have no one to cheat on. Yet, as I was perusing some articles online this morning, this question struck me. In the last six months or so, God has had me mulling over ideas of weasels, friends with benefits, and other such sordid affairs. The hook-up culture, which I've talked about a lot before, goes beyond just the physical, especially within Christian circles. In the church, we will obviously (I hope) avoid the random sexual encounters with others that permeate our culture, but it's those close friendships that I think are much trickier. And when you label it "affair," suddenly it seems a lot more serious. My gut reaction is to begin questioning each one of my relationships--how am I supposed to be godly if my interactions with men are inappropriate? Resolved, I should avoid male friends altogether.

My Dad, I think, disagrees: "Mere, you really should just enjoy the friendships you have for what they are." He means, "Stop being a drama queen." And he's right. I should definitely add that to my To Do list. But there's still something to be said for guarding my heart--an idea that both he and any of my other confidants would support. So there's the rub: at what point are friends dangerous?

Someone wise gave me this definition: if you're looking to the person for validation, to fill any sort of void, then it's not a healthy relationship. I guess it has a lot to do with attitude...leaving me with a couple of options. The quick fix is to avoid interaction altogether. But on the whole, I know that it's my heart that needs some changing.

Anyways, for your reading pleasure, this is the article about emotional affairs, and here is another interesting one about the "work husband." Not super keen on all of their advice, but it's something to start chewing.

I'm making a dress for this wedding because if I'm going to be the only person over the age of 12 who is single, I'm going to have to look FABULOUS...

Today at Walmart, instead of running into someone I knew from high school (probably because I wasn't in there long enough), I stood fairly patiently in line behind two little old ladies who were buying Fancy Feast cat food...in bulk. Sixty or so cans and about ten minutes later, I finally checked out with my contact solution, dismissing the fear that those ladies foreshadowed my future.

On the plane ride here I had a bit of a revelation. In an effort to ignore the smelly awkward man next to me, I wrote in my journal.

I'm headed to Texas for a quick look at the life I thought I'd always get.
Wanted this story, by the book, but found my way
To LA--instead
Of all those dreams
God gives me new things
And I find joy.
Since at the day's end I see it never mattered where I went,
But Who was next to me.

It's almost too easy to feel overwhelmed by the pressure to be married here. As I planned this vacation home around a wedding of one of my best friends from high school, I started to fear the inevitable--I am going to stand out like a sore thumb. Sure enough, at the bachelorette party, I was the only person there who was single. And at quite a few functions so far, the question came up like unsettled indigestion: "So is there someone special in your life?" Plenty of special people, but none to satisfy their question. I smile sweetly and say no.

If I let myself, I will slip into that selfsame daydream where I stay in Texas and my life turns into the picket fence existence I imagined growing up. According to that course, I, too, should be entertaining a church full of guests and a new last name. But there was a day, several years back, when I made a tearful choice to leave all of the Lone Star State behind.

And God went with me into the wild.

I packed my things and went on an adventure--full of loneliness and trials, excitement, new names and faces, places I never knew I could go. I've been to heights and depths.

And still, God came too.

As I look back, it's tempting to ask the what ifs and ease my mind by down playing the possibilities of what might have been...all to convince myself that I made the right choice in going this route because the other would have been stagnant and boring. The truth is, it might have been just as fulfilling to stay home. Life would have had its own, albeit different, thrills.

But when it comes to whether or not I am happy that I took the different rabbit trails I took, to whether or not I am pleased with my current trajectory, I really have no opinion.

Because my joy is complete purely in knowing that my God was beside me all the while. It has little to do with the specifics of what has happened in my life, and everything to do with the specific Person who walks with me day by day.

So I will blow whichever way the wind takes me,
Anchored to the One who leads me home.

At the risk of being obnoxious...

At different points in my life, I go through phases where I don't really like children. I don't ooh and aah at newborns. In fact, I think they are usually kind of ugly. They are wrinkly and awkward and cry too much.

That being said, I am in love with my brother's new kid. It is ridiculous. So here is my obligatory proud Aunt Meredith post...

Dad sleeping with the baby

Bradly yawns...I think he looks a little bit like an old man...


Double chins and awkward faces...actually look cute to me..

They are, like...tiny...

personality.

I think I'm going to like this kid.

"Cuz My heart is damaged...damaged..."

After hearing this song on the radio this morning, with a van full of college-bound high schoolers, I shot my mouth off like I often do:

"Oh...my gosh--this song is ridiculous! Trust me ladies, no guy wants to hear you gab on about how epic your baggage is. It is the quickest way to make them run for the hills!"

Despite the passion of that soapbox moment, I should have offered a more rational clarification--it's not that guys are insensitive and can't deal with the fact that you've been hurt in the past. I guess what irks me about the song is that it glorifies the sort of jaded mentality that permeates so much of the dating world I've seen and experienced. Not only that, but the girl specifically demands that her guy be the one to "fix it." Heresy, if I've ever heard it.

By this point in my life, nearly everyone I meet seems to have their own version of the scorned lover story. Courtship is a dead horse we revive every now and then, just so we can shoot it in the face. It's no secret that our modern system of mate-matching has its flaws. With little guidance coming from our family or the church, a lot of us end up with a blemish or two on the ol' dating record. Be it a brightly patterned Vera Bradley or something we picked up from a street vendor downtown for ten bucks, a lot of us are toting some serious luggage.

Tonight I was reading a post on Stuff Christians Like that compared unforgiveness to carrying around a dead body. I think relational baggage works the same way. It's not that men (or women for that matter) are insensitive to the hurts of our past relationships--it's just that after a while, the stench starts to really ruin things. All that dead weight (ha) makes it difficult to frolic through the daisy fields of a new love. And despite my notorious pessimism about all things romance-related, I like that word, frolic. It makes me think of another word I like: joy.

At Bible Study this week we talked about finding our joy in Christ. If I were to live my life underscored by this poppy, top-40 number, no amount of synthesizers could drown out the hollow cry for salvation: "How ya gonna fix it...fix it...fix it?" We live in a fallen world, where pain is an inevitable part of life. It shouldn't shock me at all when people turn to one thing or another for a salve, some aspirin...a tranquilizer.

But as for me, I can sing a different tune, because through Christ, God already fixed all of it, allowing me to drop the cadaver already...and leaving me free to frolic.

One of *those* girls..

My mother would be horrified.

Today at the grocery I passed by the section where they have the pre-cut, pre-washed fruit and bought two containers of it because I am now in a "season" of life where I no longer have time to cut my own fruit. My boss lives every day this way, and has encouraged me to do the same: "Never do a single thing that you can pay someone else to do." Ah, what a philosophy...

I could use the excuse that there's no reason for me to buy an entire watermelon--where would I store it? (The answer, in our fairly empty fridge) Would I actually eat the whole thing? (The answer, yes) But then I also bought grapes--pre-plucked from the vine and washed by hands not my own--because, yes, this next couple of weeks will be *that* busy.

The One with the Blond Girl

Carlos is my boss's catch-all guy. He runs errands all over town and steals drinks from our fridge every now and again. Last week I got in trouble for building a bookshelf (I hate IKEA) that Carlos was supposed to build for me. He didn't come, so I took matters into my own hands. Wearing heels. And let me just say, I am pretty legit with a hammer. AND, I built the bookcase in half the time it took Carlos and his lackey to put the doors on it...which are slightly crooked. Still.

Today, after getting reamed in an "emergency" staff meeting (meaning, they called it last minute to tell me how much I suck), I learned that Carlos, among his other skills, cannot tell the difference between the tutoring centers that Keith owns.

Prep One, the elementary center, is "The one with Lisa Teacher."

Prep Two, middle school, is "The one with Ashanti."

Prep Center, the high school center where I'm the director... "The one with the blond girl."

Today, I don't even have a name.

What hurts the most is being so close, and having so much to say, but watching you walk away...

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

- C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

One of my roommates left me today, so yesterday, in an effort to feel involved in her life for perhaps the last tangible time, I caught up on her blog, which is where I found this ^ quoted. That, coupled with recent events in my own life, has got me thinking about risk and adventure...

When it comes to committing to things, I think what freaks me out the most is that it will feel like I'm stuck in a rut. This is the root of my anxiety at work. On a bad day, I can't help but think, "Geez...I promised to stay for 2 WHOLE YEARS...?!" I start to wonder if the rest of my life will be waking up to the same old routine, one crappy day after another. And all I'll have to come home to is a slew of cats who, when I fall down the stairs one day, will eat my dead body like in that episode of CSI...

My mind spirals downward quite dramatically.

Neuroses aside, I believe it's this mentality that drives our gun-shy generation. It's hard to think of committing to a job or a man or whatever...because, besides always wondering what else could have come along, you never know if, once you sign up for said commitment, it will take an unexpected turn to Dullsville...or worse. What if those co-workers you enjoy so much end up transferred elsewhere? What if half-way through your contract, you have to take on a tough client that makes your life a living hell? What if after "I do" comes "I don't know how to manage money"? What if the sex is bad...?

Stagnant, we question away a lot of great opportunities.

My dad likes to remind me that there is an innate goodness to intimacy. That when you commit to a spouse, you are able to experience a deeper connection, a more epic kind of love, than you would get with a surface relationship. In the security of a marriage (done the way it's intended), spouses feel more freedom to be intimate on all levels because they know that the other person won't unexpectedly leave them one day. You can trust that person with your secrets, your fears, your dreams. Simply put, the benefits rock.

In a similar way, many employers offer benefits to a person who they feel like will be loyal to the company, stuff like bonuses, pay raises, dental/health insurance, and so forth. They appreciate knowing you will stick around, and they do what they can to make it worth your while.

Unfortunately, I don't think we really have a clear picture of what these benefits actually entail. My own (ethereal) ideas of intimacy in marriage are based purely on hearsay. When I think of love, like Lewis mentions, I think of vulnerability, emotional instability...a potential for hurt, disappointment, and a slew of other negatively connoted vocabulary. But if the mantra is true, "It's better to have loved and lost..." then it might also be said, it's better to commit through the valleys, than to never experience the mountain's height.

When you sign up for something long term, you are assured a similar burn to that which comes from loving--it will not be a smooth ride. But at least it will be a ride. And that certainly beats the hellish doldrums of paralyzed inaction.

Standing in this hue, commitment entails an innate adventurousness.

Why I Read

At the risk of being called jaded...

Pursue Her

I love when I stumble across something that not only speaks to my heart, but does so in a way that reflects back to scripture and no-nonsense wisdom and advice.

Try this as an ice breaker..

One of my kids asked me a very important question today that I will pose to all my readers:

"You have a monkey, a snake, and a bird. How do you carry them?"

Let me know what you would answer and I'll tell you what it means about your personality. (And I'll tell you my answers...it's a trip...)

Feels Like Home

Country music, for me, is nostalgia.

That means when I cite artists or lyrics on my blog, they're rarely country. Nashville isn't really known for the deep and meaningful (no offense to Tim and Faith), although I will say there are several artists that have impressed me over the years. And I keep listening because the songs are lively, they connect me to my roots.

This morning in the car, I was particularly struck by this Kenny Chesney song. With each new verse, he uses some of the most interesting, poignant comparisons. Granted, the song's pretty depressing, but with a voice like Kenny's, it makes you melt anyways...

Better as a Memory

I move on like a sinners prayer
and letting go like a levee breaks
Walk away as if I don't care
Learn to shoulder my mistakes
Or built to fade like your favorite song
Get reckless when there's no need
Laugh as your stories ramble on
Break my heart, but it won't bleed
My only friends are pirates
That's just who I am
But I'm better as a memory than as your man

Never sure when the truth won't do
I'm pretty good on a lonely night
Or move on the way a storm blows through
And never stay, but then again, I might.
I struggle sometimes to find the words
Always sure until I doubt
Walk a line until it blurs
Build walls too high to climb out
But I'm honest to a fault
That's just who I am
I'm better as a memory than as your man

I see you leaning, you're bound to fall
I don't want to be that mistake
I'm just a dreamer and nothing more
You should know it before it gets too late

Cause goodbyes are like a roulette wheel
You never know where they're gonna land
First you're spinning, then you're standing still
Left holding a losing hand
But one day you're gonna find someone
And right away you'll know it's true
That all of your sinking's done
It was just a part of the passing through
Right there in that moment you'll finally understand
That I was better as a memory than as your man
Better as a memory than as your man

Congratulations! Your answers show that you are most like the Princess...

Megara!!

With the beauty (and fickle, fiery nature) of a goddess, you have the ability to turns the heads of both man and titan, which can cause quite the stir all throughout the polis. "Street-wise" epitomizes your knack for manipulating any situation in your favor, though you are loyal to a fault and tend to finagle your way into overly-binding contracts. Still, your feminine wiles are useful for many an ill-gotten-gain, and can often function as a preemptive strive against anyone who might be out to hurt you. But don't be fooled, your saucy sarcasm and quick wit will only go so far to mask all that baggage in your past. Deep down you're as jaded as Mount Olympus is high and tend to keep men at a comfortable urn's length. However, when you do find a Wonder-boy willing to put forth the Herculean effort it is to love you despite all your flaws, hang on to him. He's one of a kind!

Tale as Old as Time

Anytime I talk about my side job as a princess for ThePrincessParty.com, everyone always has a guess as to which princess I play. "I bet you're Cinderella," they usually surmise. "You look like a Cinderella." Sometimes they guess others. It turns into a discussion of wigs and costumes, my skill as a balloon artist, and how, though I can play any of the white princesses, yes, I most often play Cinderella. I don't know why people always guess her. Is it just particularly easy to picture me with a broom in my hand waiting on my step-family?

I took one of those quizzes once: Which Disney Princess are You? I can't remember which one they said I was, mostly because when you take one of those online quizzes, it's easy to forge the answer you want. What is my favorite pastime? Reading in my own private library? Swimming with my sea friends? It doesn't take a genius to rig it to give you the princess you want. So whoever I particularly wanted at the time, I'm sure that's the princess I got to be.

But sometimes I do honestly wonder which princess I am most like. Actually, the thought came to me in a weird way the other day. See, last year in my feminism class, we talked all about how princesses are dangerous for young girls because they put all sorts of bad ideas in our heads. Besides glorifying wealth and society, the girls are horribly skinny ("no room for a womb") and promote unrealistic expectations about being swept off our feet, etc, etc.

One story that is particularly psychologically damaging is Beauty and the Beast. It uses the same rationale that keeps women in abusive relationships: it's ok if he's unrefined and has an anger management problem, he needs you and your love will transform him. It's also a classic example of Stockholm Syndrome, a phenomenon where victims of abduction gain a sense of loyalty (or fall in love with) their abductor. So, let's endorse those themes and instill in our young girls the desire to be captured by a monster...because in the end, if you're nice to him, he'll turn into Fabio.

How romantic.

Of course the movie does have it's merits. I mean, after all, how rad is it when the Beast wrecks all those wolves to save Belle or owns Gaston in the end? And if some guy gave me an epic library that housed every book ever printed...well, that's pretty swoon-worthy. The scenery is fantastic, pan shots of the ballroom as the couple dances under the stars, cut to the French countryside at sunset. My heart skips a beat when Belle sings,

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere.
I want it more than I can stand.
And for once I would be grand, to have someone understand.
I want so much more than they've got planned.

Damaging or no, I watched the movie twice today, cried at the end, and thought about maybe dying my hair back to brown. I love fairy tales.

"Are they going to live happily ever after, Mama?"

"Of course, my dear, of course."

Dangerously Friends

I'm in need of a lot of wisdom.

So lately, when I turn to the Good Book, I find my way to Proverbs. This morning (amidst pondering all the stuff I wrote about in the previous post), I came across this one:

Proverbs 22:24-25--

"Make no friendship with a man given to anger, nor go with a wrathful man,
lest you learn his ways and entangle yourself in a snare."

It's the same rationale behind, "you are who you hang out with." If you surround yourself with gossips, you are likely to be given to gossip. If your friends smoke weed every weekend, you will probably end up high along with them--whether by peer pressure, boredom, or second hand smoke. At best, everyone else will assume you did anyway. Guilty by association.

Far be it for me to sound like I'm contradicting something in the Bible (and someone please call me out if this logic is out of line), but I don't think this proverb means to avoid sinners altogether. After all, Jesus hung out with some of the dregs of society--probably plenty of wrathful men, given to anger. Yet He did not sin.

Friends are really important. The close circle surrounding a person holds great sway over her state of being. And, certainly, I hope my most intimate friends are the types of people who will encourage and edify me. It seems logical, then, that I should avoid friendships with people that might "drag me down."

Still, in light of my desire to trust God rather than societal rules, I've started to wonder if maybe it is better for me to remain friends with some of the more dangerous people in my life. Whether those people are able to "give" me anything in return, I know they need to be loved, purely, sacrificially...as I know Christ has loved me. This means more than speaking to them occasionally or giving a friendly smile and wave as I walk down the street. It means I need to get involved in their lives, get right down into the grit with them and be willing to share my own weaknesses, trials, and victories as well. Whether the relationships are "safe" or "healthy" perhaps I should stop worrying about how they will affect me and trust God to take care of my heart instead of trying to do it myself (because let's be honest, He'll do a better job anyways).

There's probably a question of balance in this as well, but I can trust God to help me figure that out too. He is so rad.

Benchpress This

In a roundabout way (the way things usually go when I start reading internet articles), I found myself at this site:

A Nation of Wimps

The premise of the blog and the book it's promoting is that parents nowadays are going to such great lengths to childproof life--hoping to save their offspring from any semblance of pain or heartache--that what actually happens is the generation they raise is in fact weaker because they don't know how to deal with failure. They suggest that being tethered to our parents via cell phones may be a large factor in the rise of adultescence (a term my dictionary doesn't recognize yet, but one that has gained popularity as a way to describe how 20-somethings nowadays still behave like teenagers). Since our parents do everything for us from filling out our college applications to coaching us through our job interviews and following up to negotiate salary on our behalf (yeah, apparently this happens quite often), we no longer have to be adults ourselves. To be sure, they probably do all of this out of love, but what they don't realize is that it's facilitating our neurosis. When we ship out for college, sans parentals, we no longer have someone glazing over the rough patches. A bad night of partying or a C on a term paper and we go spiraling into depression, anxiety, and panic disorders. We just can't deal.

I'll be the first to admit that when I am unsure about making a certain move at work or when I'm facing some boy-conundrum, I hit up my speed-dial: Mom and Dad. My parents are two of the wisest people I know. I respect their opinions greatly and quite often consult them when it comes to major decisions. Most assuredly, they've let me feel my share of hard knocks, whether on purpose or because they couldn't actually feasibly help me out, and I'm thankful for it. So despite the fact that I have dealt with my share of anxiety and such, I'm not ready to blame the parents. Actually, my brain went somewhere else--the church.

Yesterday I got into a conversation with a friend of mine who was sharing his frustration with church systems--bi-laws that we use to safeguard ourselves against sin. Although I'm not sure I understood his argument completely, we hit on a specific example of how this manifests: why, he posed, do we need two people to count the money from the offering? The rule is born out of a need for accountability--to be sure that no one is stealing--but he argued that it actually undermines our trust in God. Why, as a church, do we feel the need to set up elaborate rules, checks and balances, that will keep us from sinning? Why not just trust (and pray) that God will transform our hearts, instilling within us the desire to not steal, etc?

Like communism, I like the idea. I don't think the response to it should be to recklessly throw out all church rules as a means of testing our faith (like the demons tempting Jesus to jump off a building and let the angels catch him, just to show that He could), but I have started to wonder whether, in different areas of my life, I am relying on God or a system to keep myself out of trouble.

Is it possible that we are childproofing God in a way that makes our relationship with Him "safe" but lame and boring? Our interaction with God was never meant to be about rules but a relationship, yet we insist on creating "3(78) Easy Steps" to living the Christian life. In dating relationships, we create a list of rules for purity (no kissing until we're engaged) to make sure we don't struggle with lust. We throw out any music or movies that might put violent ideas in our heads or curse words in our mouths in hopes that if we block out any worldly influence, we will have no choice but to meditate on God all day.

Meanwhile, we are a generation of Christians who have died inside. We have become so preoccupied with trying not to sin, that we've forgotten the whole point: to know God and enjoy Him. Holiness should be a result of loving God so much that we want to do anything and everything to make Him happy. Instead, we focus on trying to make ourselves good--imposing a grand scheme of regulations so that we can foolproof life. All the while, if we had even the slightest glimpse of who God really is (if we knew Him), we would naturally want to do what pleases Him. It would be our joy.

With our children, letting them touch a hot stove, eat poisonous plants, or run into a busy street without looking both ways may not be the wisest parenting--but there are other ways that we can let them learn from their mistakes and deal with failure. In the same way, as Christians, we should search our hearts for ways that we could drop the rules a little and trust God a little more. When we become so paralyzed by the thought of doing something wrong that we stay stagnant, who has won? If we don't sin merely because we don't do anything, this isn't life.

Several weeks ago I wrote about a "borderline deranged decision" I made--I went out on a limb on something that I wasn't sure was really a "godly" thing to do. I prayed that no matter what, God would be glorified--whether the situation turned out like I hoped or not--and I trusted that even if I fell flat on my face, God would work through the circumstances to teach and grow me. And, turns out, I did fall flat on my face. And God did begin a growing process in me that though I'm still in the middle of, I can see clearly. It was a bump in the road I really didn't want, a "life lesson" that I could have safely avoided, but in doing so, I would have also missed the excitement of really trusting that God would work in my best interest. I would have missed out on the way I saw the body of Christ minister to me like a real family. I would have missed wisdom and growth and a hundred other things.

If living safely means I won't get to really experience God, then that, that is a waste of my time.

We are a nation, a church, of wimps, coddled to death, who follow ten thousand rules but know nothing of the God we claim to serve.