Matchmaker, Matchmaker

In an effort to prolong my day enough to allow my hair to dry (because sleeping on wet hair causes all sorts of styling drama the next morning), I ran across a great Boundless Answers column (it's like Ask Dr. Laura, only cooler) titled "Wait Till You're Perfect?" In it, the reader asks, how do you know when you are "ready" enough to get married? Candice Watters offers, as usual, some sound Biblical advice...all along the lines of how I feel like I might respond to someone who asked me the same question.

But then her answer took a turn I wasn't expecting:

"If, as is the case in our culture, the younger women are having trouble finding and marrying godly husbands, then helping them do that should be the first order of business on the older women's to-do lists."

So you're saying we bring back the Matchmaker? Oh yeah...

"Instead of asking, 'Do you think I'm ready for marriage?' you might say, 'I believe, based on what I read in Scripture, that believers are called either to celibate service or marriage (Matthew 19:11-12). I know from my desires and drives that I'm not specially gifted for celibate service, so what I'm wondering is, based on your understanding of Scripture, what are the things I need to be working on to prepare for the responsibilities that come with marriage and motherhood?'"

Matchmaking, then, goes beyond just having an eye for which individuals might "click." More importantly, it involves a mentoring relationship in which those doing the matching are also caring for, encouraging, and reprimanding, when appropriate, the young woman in question. Single women should have trans-generational relationships with women who are edifying them. And should said women happen to know an eligible gentleman, perhaps they arrange an introduction..

So really, in LA, especially at a church like Shoreline, where the older women are like...still only my big brother's age, how would this actually look? The whole idea has brought up lots of questions for me. Personally, I've always liked the concept of the matchmaker and often tell people that if it were socially acceptable, I'd just let my parents pick someone for me. (Actually, the truth is, if I planned to move back to College Station, they already have a short list of potential suitors) But nowadays we end up having to do our own matchmaking, which either looks like us going for whatever sort of guys we actually meet, or taking upon ourselves the more elaborate screening process of navigating the online dating scene. We like having control. We also like believing that we would make the best choices on our behalf, whether we actually have the maturity to do so or not.

But really, what if I do open up the option of matchmaking for some people I know? I know plenty of people who would love to try their hand at setting people up. Usually they keep out of other people's "business" because a lot of people find being set up on blind dates both offensive and potentially awkward (at best) or terrifying. There's no way of knowing what kind of socially inept guy they're gonna throw at you (because we naturally assume that the kinds of guys willing to be set up on dates are equally as pathetic as we feel for not being able to find our own beaus). Conceptually, the idea feels flawed.

But I would propose a few rules that might allow for successful matchmaking in our 21st century dating scene:

1. Find someone you trust. It's imperative that the person who's doing the matchmaking be someone who has your best interests in mind--and by that I don't mean, they'll look for the hottest of hotties, but that they love the Lord and want to see you grow more in Him, not just score some arm candy.

2. Make sure they know you. The person who is setting up your matches should know enough about you to know what types of people you might enjoy spending time with. Stop being surface level with them. You'll waste your time.

3. Throw out your expectations. I don't care what kind of list you made in 9th grade of what you think you want in a man. If you've followed Rules 1 and 2, then give Mr. Datey McDaterson a try. It's possible that other people can see more about what kind of guy would suit you well than you yourself could.

4. Can your pride. Allowing someone to arrange a date for you does not make you lame. You live in LA. You have a job in which you interact with the four cubicles around you. Your friends know people that you don't. It's called networking. If it makes you feel better, throw dinner parties and casually have friends bring people you don't know. If dating ensues, then you know, whatever...

So that's all I've got so far. If you're like the girl from the article, if you want to be married and you consider your singleness a "problem," then do something about it. Bring on the matchmaker...catch yourself a catch. Find yourself a find. Fiddle with an old school ritual and see what kinds of riches await you.

Modesty (dun dun dun....)

Chrissie started it.

So now I've got modesty (unwillingly) on my brain. I'm not gonna lie--I hate the "modesty talk"...because usually it means I'm doing something wrong. And I really hate doing things wrong...or rather, I hate being called out on it.

But, alas, here we are in the throes of picking summer wardrobes and I'm half-way tempted to throw out everything I own and start a new line of fashionable paper bags for the women of Shoreline. Anytime I start to read stuff like The Modesty Survey (which touts statistics like, 6.8% of men agree or strongly agree with the statement, "it is immodest for a girl to show her calves." AAAAHHHH!!!), I feel like I just can't win.

I have a theory: there are certain girls who have bombshell bodies--girls who can wear the most covering and modest of clothing and still look so sexy. In books and magazines they tell us that so much of dressing well is dressing to flatter your assets. When you have a naturally womanly silhouette, it would seem easier to wear pretty much anything modest and still look quite lovely and feminine. I feel like when I dress super-modest, I just look fat. When I take a good look in the mirror, I'll admit, I think some of my best features are my legs and my shoulders, and if, like they say, the goal is to "flaunt what you've got," I really need to wear those short shorts with the flowy tube top.

But in looking for hard and fast rules about modesty, I feel like the ones who are making them would also like to arrange my marriage and ensure that I stay home with the babies, cook three meals a day for my husband, clean and keep our home, and never speak in public. I really like rules. I really can't handle theirs.

Then I stumbled across this excerpt by C.J. Mahaney:

"There’s an inseparable link between your heart and your clothes. Your clothes say something about your attitude. If they don’t express a heart that is humble, that desires to please God, that longs to serve others, that’s modest, that exercises self-control, then change must begin in the heart.

"For modesty is humility expressed in dress."

Basically, he's saying that I have to take a good, hard look and what my goal is when I dress each day. If it's something along the lines of attracting, seducing, enticing, then, yeah, I'm way off. It's fine to be feminine. It's ok to long for loveliness, to dress in a way that is beautiful. But it is not godly to act in a way that I know is tempting to my brothers.

I've been working a lot lately on guarding my heart, now it's time to check it.

My New Favorite Song

What makes me the saddest about moving at the end of this summer is that I will no longer come home to Lauren Garcia. Besides being the most delightful of people to share a bedroom with, she is also my mole when it comes to new music.

So per Lauren, the latest crooner spinning in my car is Marie Digby. Some may know her as the girl who remixed Riana's "Umbrella Song" into an acoustic ballad. I think she was mentioned on Perez recently... Anyways, this is one of the songs I'll be singing under my breath next time you see me, a theme song if you will, for this phase of my life. (See also "Stupid for You," "Spell," and "Paint Me In Your Sunshine.")

...Unfold...

What I can remember
Is a lot like water
Trickling down a page
Of the most beautiful colors
I can't quite put my finger down
On the moment that I became like this

You see, I'm the bravest girl
You'll ever come to meet
Yet, I shrink down to nothing
At the thought of someone really seeing me
I think my heart is wrapped around
And tangled up in winding weeds

But, I don't wanna go on living
Being so afraid of showing
Someone else my imperfections
And even though my feet are trembling
Every word I say comes stumbling
I will bare it all
Watch me unfold
Unfold, unfold

These hands that I hold behide my back
Are bound and broken from my own doing
And I can't feel anything anymore
I need a touch to remind me
I'm still real

'Cause, I don't wanna go on living
Being so afraid of showing
Someone else my imperfections
And even though my feet are trembling
Every word I say comes stumbling
I will bare it all
Watch me unfold
Unfold, unfold

My soul
It's dying to be free
I can't live the rest of my life so guarded
It's dying to be free
It's up to me to choose
What kind of life I lead

'Cause, I don't wanna go on living
Being so afraid of showing
Someone else my imperfections
And even though my feet are trembling
Every word I say comes stumbling
I will bare it all
Watch me unfold, unfold, unfold
Unfold, unfold, unfold

I will allow someone to love me...

Because I Hate Math...

But we all know I love dating theory:

The Eligible Bachelor Paradox

When to settle? What to choose? When to lick your wounds with a good shopping spree? So many questions...Enjoy :)

You Don't Have to Turn on that Red Light...

If you're wondering whether or not I can go see that new movie coming out or check out some cool LA dive bar, the answer is no. No, I can't go shopping with you. No, not even to the Goodwill. No more iTunes. No more take-out at work. No more Starbucks. No no no...I am on a money spending hiatus.

I wish I could say that this was a recent conviction of mine--that I am officially spurning all semblance of materialism in my life and therefore denying myself any superfluous pleasures. But this isn't the case. I got a traffic ticket. That's right. I violated the law, and now I MUST PAY!!

It's sooo lame because it's not like I was in a hurry or being particularly rebellious. I was lazy. It was Sunday afternoon, driving home from church...and I thought, "Oh look, that light is yellow. I could take my foot of the gas and press the brake. Or I could spare my thigh the work out..."

*Flashes from all angles like epic paparazzi*

I knew I was caught. I hoped my still out-of-state status would work in my favor, but a few days later, I received a phone call from Dad: "Busted!" (Seriously, this is a direct quote. My dad likes to use "cool" phrases like this, and therefore actually chuckled the term over the phone, with blatant disregard for my feelings.)

Eventually the ticket was forwarded to my apartment here and the actual damage assessed:

$380 for the violation
$10 to take care of it online
(because who has time to drive from downtown to the Santa Monica courthouse?)
$29 to take traffic school, and
$14.95 + tax to actually enroll in said traffic school

Ugh..

So really, I can't complain. It was my own dumb fault, and it's not like I can't find a way to pay for it. I have a great job and steady income. I'll still be able to eat and pay rent and all those things. I just have to wait on those brown flats that I "need" to buy for work. Really, it's a good reminder that there are a lot of things I buy with my money that are really not necessary. At the end of the day, I know I could live quite happily on much less that I have. I am more than blessed and should really learn to be more appreciative.

Oh, Culver City and your stupid "Red Light Project." How I hate you today.

Roxaaanne...

I'll Do it For Love

I had the sudden realization tonight that after weeks of posting mostly links to other websites and blogs, I may have lost nearly all of my readership. Why would you read me if I am only going to link you to another article? Why not eliminate the middle man? AAAhhhh!! My childhood solace of being the "white stuff" (who thought of Weird Al?) between my Oreo-cookie siblings (no, we aren't multi-racial) is smashed to pieces (sings a bad Ashlee Simpson song. Wonders why Ashlee spells her names as such). The middle child is NOT the best child!!! Woe is me (along with my over-use of parenthesis and digressions)!! And I've met my exclamation mark quota.

I have visions of the three of you who are left, including my mom, suddenly slinking away into the far reaches of other blogdom...oh who am I kidding? My parents don't read my blog unless I remind them to. I'll get crap for that later. Or maybe...I've just guilted them into bookmarking it. (Yes!)

Point being, my apologies. I've always said that I didn't want my blog to turn into a drab account of my day to day clothing choices and office drama. If I'm going to write about something, it should be thoughtful--less of "this happened to me" and more of "this made me think about such and such and it all relates to God and the church and all of us in ways X, Y, and Z."

Some posts are better than others.

But when life gets too personal, too busy, or seems to lack epiphany, the wells of my textual brilliance run dry. As of late, I blame my absence on a house blend of all of the above. Tonight, I bring some refreshment to ease the drought.

Earlier this week, I made a borderline-deranged decision. Before I enacted said decision, I spent the morning praying over my next move. It went something like this, "Ok God, I'm not sure if this is going to be another one of those really dumb things I do, but I feel like I need to do it, so I ask that however it turns out, you would bless me. Whatever that looks like." It was a really cool moment--one of those times where you know that you've gone so far out on a limb that God better pull through or you are screwed.

And He totally did. Post-op, I felt an incredible sense of peace, knowing that this situation would grow me in one of several amazing ways. Although I've yet to see which it will be, I am getting to see what it's like to really trust God--to stand on the promises that He works all things for good for those that follow Him. That if I ask anything in His name, He will do it. It wasn't one of those Jesus-is-like-Santa-Claus prayers for a new bike, but an honest petition for spiritual growth and deepened relationship through (and maybe despite) my unique circumstances. And those are the kinds of prayers that God answers. They're the kind of prayers that should characterize our lives...because if we are asking for things that we know are in line with His will (and our becoming more like Him definitely is one of those things), then we can eagerly anticipate their fruition.

So now, a few days later, the actual testing sets in. Did I really mean it when I said that I wanted God to teach me patience? Would I really be able to pull off my promise to meditate on God rather than obsess over the aftermath? Was this one of those dangerous prayers, like asking for brokenness, where I would silently curse myself once it gets answered?

Who knows.

But I can tell you this for sure: it is so lovely to plow out of the spiritual rut I was in with a season that tries my faith and sends me helpless into the arms of my Savior.

Copy and Paste

My roommate Alethea turned me on to this blog, Stuff Christians Like, which includes several shout outs to creepy things that define our awkward sub-culture. A few highlights...

"Yes, God wants us to be compassionate and kind and tender with each other. Not only that, but he wants us to love our enemies and serve our neighbors. As long as there is no body on body action. I'm talking of course about a "full frontal hug," one of those sinful abominations where you just wrap your arms around a friend and embrace them. That's why Christians the world over have pioneered the "side hug." In the side hug there's no risk of two crotches touching. Instead of face to face, you go side to side, putting your arm around the person and your hip against their's. Still having a hard time mastering it? Pretend you're taking a photo and you're both looking at the camera together. The side hug, or A frame as it is also called, is safe for the whole family, friendly and above all holy. I don't know the exact scripture reference but try the book of Psalms."

"But now, I realize that sometimes we put God in the liner notes of albums I don't think he had anything to do with. I know that in some sense, God is infused in everything in the world and as a Christian he should be woven in to every part of your day, but this kid's song was not that good. I mean, I've seen God's work. He made the Grand Canyon and the platypus, when he gets creative, he really gets creative. But sometimes, in a variation of throwing the God Card, we thank God for things I think he'd just as soon say, 'whoa, whoa, whoa, that chorus is weak and don't even get me started on that bridge. Leave my name off that song champ.'"

"My biggest fear as a Christian, now that I'm married and the rapture did not come before I lost my virginity, is that God will call me somewhere I don't want to go. Now that I have given him my life he will say in a James Earl Jones voice, "Jon, I want you to go to the deepest, darkest jungle in a country you didn't even know existed. And I want you to teach calculus and Bible stories to the people there. I have spoken." I'd have no problem with the Bible stories, but as a writer, math is my sworn enemy. When I have to count or do simple addition in my head, it's like entering mortal combat and I rarely win. But that is what I am afraid of. I fear that God likes to call his people to do things they don't want to do all in his name."

Three is enough. Visit the blog.