The Cricket Speaks.

Oh right. In case I need to prove my point about Cricket, I've compiled some anecdotes.

We're headed across town to BB's when we spot a horse and carriage at the curb on the opposite side of the street. Well, we amble (I do love a good amble or meander) on over to catch the next light. No sooner do we get to the other side when I hear Cricket gasp in fear and exclaim,"Oh dear Lord, it's a horse!" The lady-driver nearly lost it after Violet, I mean I, deadpanned, "Yeah, she doesn't get out much."

Earlier we visited the great Arch of St. Louis after a delicious lunch at Charlie Gitto's. When I say delicious, I mean mouthwatering, heavenly, out-of-this-world, and knock-you-off-your-socks delicious chocolate cake. Needless to say, I don't know how we walked out of that place, rolling would have been easier (and yes, my pants fit a bit more snug today). So we head on over to the Arch. The closer we get, the more Cricket and I begin to question whether or not now is the time to take off on this adventure.

Actually, the closer we approached to the Arch, the more my stomach began to question whether or not this was such a good idea. Waiting in line to get our tickets, I began to question whether or not I wanted to continue living. Never have I felt so sick in my life. Laying down and dying seemed so sweet. I even asked the ticket-taker if I might come back at another time (in-between breathing deeply) but she was neither in the mood for such a question nor willing to answer it. It seemed that it was now or never. I managed to methodically make my way down the stairs to the landing for the tram. Slowly I slumped to the ground and woefully leaned my head against the wall, grateful for the coolness of the marble. Finally Cricket and Brandine seemed to notice the pale, slightly perspiring, moaning being that made up the last third of their party. Having taken pity on me, Cricket forced, I mean urged, me to sit up and try her "Digestion Yoga Poses." Here I am, in the midst of 30 other tram travellers, sitting on the stairs and slowing breathing and turning. Breathe in, turn 25 degrees to the left and breathe out. Breathe in, turn 25 degrees to the left and breathe out. Back straight, feet facing forward, and continue this time to the right. I looked pathetic. The doors open to the tram to expose a most stomach-flipping sight indeed. The "tram-pod" held 5 seats and was created in the shape of an egg. Ergo, it shall now be referred to as the "egg-pod."

Cricket nearly lost her nerve with that one. No sooner do we get in then she starts hyperventilating and breathing heavily and praying to "Baby Jesus." There is nothing like watching your boss, ahem, co-worker, and other co-worker stuffed inside an egg-pod, hurtling 630 feet in the air to calm your stomach. Seriously. I nearly lost it when Cricket started crossing herself and praying "Oh sweet 6lb 5 oz Baby Jesus, please hear me."

The rest of the trip was sweet and stomach-flipping free. More to come as the events happen!

BB's Jazz and Blues Bar

Last night Cricket, Brandine (formerly known as Sunflower), and I (Violet) headed out to St. Louis's finest jazz and blues bar. By finest I mean dyed-in-the-blue, authentic, BB King probably played here (we forgot to ask), been-here-since-the-dawn-of-time, finest jazz and blues bar. No kidding. It started out in the mid-1800's as a warehouse in old "Frenchtown," then a general store, we think a dentist's office, and neither least nor last, a House of Ill-Repute. Hopefully it's last occupation is as a jazz and blues bar, for as such it is the epitome of a low-light, dusky, brick-walled, artistically vibrant, and smokey jazz and blues bar.

From 7pm until we left, a lone man played his guitar and sang the blues. "Playing" is a harsh, crude, and unfulfilling word. This man (whom we referred to as "Catfish") owned that guitar and owned his blues. The twang and "thunkety-thunk" beat that emanated from his strumming filled my soul. While his voice was no operatic wonder, his bluesy crooning (no matter that I recognized a mere two words- "cocaine" and "catfish") had me enraptured. There was an old knowledge that enveloped this man. He knew his voice, he knew his guitar, and he knew his blues forwards, backwards, up and down, inside and out, and sideways. Singing and strumming were to him as breathing in and out. The aura about him gave the impression that he played because life couldn't exist otherwise. I imagine that he must sit on his porch and speak in blues.

Not to burst that ol' Mississippi blues picturesque moment, but my tale does go on. Cricket and I decided we must have a drink with our cajun dinner. I can handle one glass of wine, Cricket can handle one glass of wine, so two glasses of white zinfandel ended up on our table. As our stomachs were full though, Violet (I) was enticed to imbibe just one more glass (so as to equal the level of intoxication of Cricket). Just for the record, Brandine did her share of encouraging as well. The result: two giggly and fiercely protective ladies on one side of the table (also pretending to have mild southern accents. For the record: Cricket sounded just like Britney Spears, while Violet on the other hand would have been mistaken for a southern belle), one sober and composed lady (Brandine) on the other.

Cricket and I had to use the ladies room and so headed downstairs to said location. The conversation heading into the room and whilst there went as follows.

Cricket: You know Violet, I am just sharp as a tack after I've had a drink."

Violet: Right. Sure you are, that's why you came up with K-Bread as a nickname?

Cricket: Oh hush, you know that's a great name. And I am so going to call him that. Anyway, like I said, I'm sharp as a tack right now. Before I've had one though, I'm dumber than a box of...

(Flush)

Cricket: I'm dumber than a box of....

(Flush)

Cricket: I'm dumber than a box of....

(Flush)

Cricket: I'M DUMBER THAN A BOX OF ROCKS!

Exit older lady from stall with terrified/horrified/mildly amused expression upon her face.

We tried explaining ourselves, but considering that we were both rocking the southern accent and stumbling just a tad, I doubt anything we would have said could have changed whatever that lady was thinking. I can only imagine.

Nevertheless, we still greatly enjoyed the blues and jazz for some time after. If anyone is ever in the greater St. Louis area, please head to BB's Jazz and Blues Bar, it's right close to the St. Louis Cardinals stadium.

Oh beautiful for spacious Arch!

"Meet me in St. Louis," is a dangerous song. It starts out delicately enough, liltingly and lightly flowing out of your mouth, the chorus repeating over and over. After running through it first all the words are remembered and, if you are lucky enough to have companionship, the camaraderie of knowing the same song encourages an increase in decibel strength. It also encourages swaying. Next thing you know, it's five minutes later and the song is forever embedded within your mind. It cannot be forced out.

I managed to finagle "London Bridge," by Fergie as a precursor to "MMSL," in my mental playlist but, "How come every time you come around/My London, London bridge wanna go down like/London, London, London, wanna go down like/ London, London, London, we goin’ down like…" cannot maintain the #1 spot no matter how many times I can get Cricket to sing along with me. Heck, we even throw in the eyebrow raises, a bit of shoulder shrugging, and some hip bopping. Alas, it's all in vain, Fergie's Fergaliciousness cannot cut the ties that bind.

As a last ditch effort Cricket and I replaced every noun (and most adjectives, adverbs, and conjunctions) in "America the Beautiful," for "arch." As in we now sing it as "O' Beautiful for spacious arch, for archy archy arch. (etc)" Lest you all think this is a great idea that works well both in theory and in reality, our roomie for the week is about to murder us in our sleep. I doubt Sunflower would derive any greater pleasure than shutting the two of us up. I'm sure she's plotting as we speak. There are gargantuan pillows in our room that would serve as smothering devices, no doubt the thought has crossed her mind.

I've even tried giggling every time we sing "Hootchie-Kootchie" or "tootsie-wootsie" but it's to no avail. Cricket just keeps belting in out with nary a blush nor a skipped lyric. Silence comes with sleep, but with the morning the whistling begins subconsciously. For me, rising in the morning with the great Arch greeting me starts the wheels a'turning. It's the stream of water that flows through the watershoot down onto the wheel, filling up the pockets, and slowly setting into motion the subconscious wheels of musical life. As I brush my teeth the tunes begin to make their way through the fog of early morning mind. By the time I've buttoned the last button on my shirt, I have whistled at least 4 lines of the chorus without realizing it and Sunflower is screaming "Stop!" from the shower.

Cricket is such a bad influence.

Isaiah 41:8-20

8"But you, O Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, you descendants of Abraham my friend. 9I took you from the ends of the earth, from its farthest corners I called you. I said, 'You are my servant'; I have chosen you and have not rejected you. 10So do not fear, for I am (surely) with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 11All who rage against you will surely be ashamed and disgraced; those who oppose you will be as nothing and perish. 12Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them. Those who wage war against you will be as nothing at all. 13For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not Fear; I will help you. 14Do not be afraid, O worm Jacob, O little Israel, for I myself will help you," declares the LORD, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel. 15See I will make you into a threshing sledge, new and sharp, with many teeth. You will thresh the mountains and crush them, and reduce the hills to chaff. 16 You will winnow them, the wind will pick them up, and a gale will blow them away. But you will rejoice in the LORD, and glory in the Holy One of Israel. 17The poor and the needy search for water, but there is none; their tongues are parched with thirst. But I the LORD will answer them; I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them. 18I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water, and the parched ground into springs. 19I will put in the desert the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle and the olive. I will set pines in the wasteland, the fir and the cypress together, 20so that people may see and know, may consider and understand, that the hand of the LORD has done this, that the Holy One of Israel has created it."

I love this passage. It starts out with Him gathering His people and bringing them under His protection. Then it moves on to say that not only will He protect us, but He will not treat us as babies; He will develop us, prepare us, He will turn us into something to be reckoned with! We will be made into a bold people, a people that God himself would want (yes, he wants us as we are, broken, weary, and sinful, but this is a fallen world, He will soon make us into all that we were supposed to be). Then we are placed into an oasis. Out of nothing, absolute awful puniness (word?) and desolation, He creates strength, beauty, and life.

What's more is this: He desires Israel as she is before the transformation. He doesn't ask that she be desirable beforehand, He doesn't ask that she be able to care for herself and manage her life properly, He wants her stripped bare, naked, of everything that she is not. He doesn't tell her, "Hey, once you figure out what your gifts and talents are, once you can play an instrument with grace, sing a song like a lark, excel athletically, and get a sweet toned body, then I want you and I will give you life abundant." He doesn't stipulate, "Well, once you quit being so prideful and assuming, once you're attractive and get those blemishes under control, and get your spiritual life in gear, then I will transform you." This is what He tells us, "I took you from the ends of the earth... I have chosen you (and not rejected you!), I will strengthen you and help you! I will help you MYSELF, I will make you into a force to be reckoned with (the threshing sledge), then I will transform the desert into a vast oasis, filled with rivers, flora and fauna, and place you smack dab in the middle of it. Did I mention I will help you? I want to help you! Let me help you!"

Now I like the sound of that.

Radio and TV Correspondents' Association Dinner

Every year there's a lively ol' dinner hosted in D.C. by the Radio and Television Correspondents' Association. Hence "Radio and TV Correspondents' Association Dinner." This year proved to be as interesting as last year's (the first one I've ever watched) and I get a big kick out of the President poking fun at his past year and himself. What I particularly like about this is that President Bush is just so darling when he is self-deprecating and moderately humorous. He knows he's not a stand-up comedian and he knows he's not slap-the-knee hilarious, he just tries. Were Mr. President and I to ever hold a conversation between ourselves, I have no doubt that while I would respect and honor him as my President, there would definitely be an atmosphere of ease and good humour. This is someone who I would want in the family at get-togethers, putting everyone at ease, mingling with all, and yet one knows they could sit down and have a good solid conversation with him.
While many mock his presidency and take up arms against his policies, I would like to point out one thing: if I feel I can trust this man in my family, you'd better believe I can trust him with domestic and international matters. This isn't to say that if you can trust Uncle Steve over there on the couch watching wrestling with a beer in his hand, then he's qualified to be on the forefront of domestic and international policy. As a President, he is someone I would be eager to claim as a relative. Uncle Steve as a relative is not someone I would be eager to claim as President.

Thus I am very delighted to post highlights of the RT Correspondents' Dinner.



Of course, one cannot pass up the Deputy Chief of Staff in his musical debut.

March Madness

In honor of March Madness, my blog will be honoring it's authoress' alma mater and #1 tournament pic.

GO BUCKS!

The power of words.

Right now I'm in the middle of extreme data entry. Extreme in that it is pushing my attention span and anger threshold to the max. Apparently one of our parent companies decided that every center in this hemisphere must update their information and send it in at once.

Translation: 1500 centers send in one survey per center to my lovely little desk and I update all of their information in our database. Out of 1500 surveys, at least 65% of them are incorrectly filled out and I have to call the center to get the proper information.

Conversation: "Hi, this is (my name) from (my company). I'm calling about the survey you sent and wanted to know if (questionable information about location/services/hours) are correct."
Center staff: "Who are you?... What does your company do?"

Thus my days are spent explaining my company to the person who sent the survey in to my company! Heck, we're not even a company! We're non-profit! Those centers would not have clients if it were not for us! (note: we are not in the business of getting girls pregnant, spreading STDs, or kicking pregnant girls out of their homes.) Heck, we can even make the appointments for the girls for the center. We're flipping all-inclusive-help. Right, back to the surveys.

I hate these surveys. I mean, passionately despise them. Not only do I have to spend 3/4 of my DAY entering these surveys, but in order to complete my true job tasks these surveys must be finished. Here's an equation for you: hating surveys + loathing of entering the surveys + having to enter the surveys = low work productivity. Want those marketing reports? Want to know how well WV's billboard campaign ran last year? Too bad. O what? You want reimbursed for your travels? Hah. Try again. In fact, try again in a week.

Oh, what's that you say? Just enter them quickly and you'll be done with it? Nice idea, Einstein. Gee, why didn't I think of that? Just move along more quickly; it's just like ripping off a band-aid. Have I mentioned the inane, mind-numbing, gag-reflex inducing pain that is a survey? Have I mentioned that with each day of entering the aforementioned blindingly horrendous surveys, brain-cells flee by the thousands? All I have to do is glance at a survey and a grey mist begins enshrouding various parts of my brain. The left and right sides are now tinged, nay the borders are even more encroached upon, by a grey haze of nothingness.

Then every so often, someone from the outside (as in, everyone else in this office) will dare to stop their beautiful work day to inquire as to how I am doing. Bless them, Lord. May they always know of Your unfailing love.

So they move closer to this mass of turmoil that is my desk and speak to me. Usually, as I sit covered in this mountain of surveys, their voices come to me as rescuers come to those stranded in the depths of an avalanche. Is it possible? Could that be? No... it must be my imagination.... but wait! It is! There are voices out there and they are calling to me! Slowly and surely the haze retreats, ever so slightly, and brain functions being to churn into motion. Speech slowly makes its way to my mouth and I begin to utter a few monosyllabic grunts. Should that unfortunate being remain long enough they will gaze in utter amazement as my head pops out of these snowy-esque papers. Then as my lips form intelligible words, o the beautiful words, they will gaze fondly upon me as a parent does their child when they have just uttered those beautiful nonsensical words that most interpret as "da da," or "ma ma."

It is no wonder then that at the moment, my iPod is playing, on repeat, "Caught Out there," by Kelis (also known as "I Hate You So Much.") It is no wonder then that every night I scurry off to the gym for a run. I need my running time to ease my mind back into a properly functioning state. It's hard to head straight off to a people-friendly function as the shock is sometimes too much for my brain. If you've ever caught me right after work, please understand that it's not that I don't want to talk to you, I just can't comprehend and react with conversation. The blank stare and gaping mouth are not permanent, keep talking and I will respond within the half-hour. This also explains how after that half-hour of re-entry into society, I can't stop talking. It's as a semi taking off down the road. Slowly it moves along, snails beating it by furloughs on either side, then a lurch, an increase in speed, another lurch, and the speed nearly doubles. Then when the semi has reached full speed, try stopping it. Let me refer to Sir Issac Newton's First Law of Motion. Yes, my brain can be affected by inertia, not just physically, but mentally.

Now let me bring in the subject line for this post. The power of words. Communication is important, speaking to the people you're around is important. Silence may be polite, but there are times when it could not be more detrimental to the people around you. Pay attention to those with whom you interact and respond accordingly. Heed the words you use when you interact with them and never ever speak down to them, they might just be smart enough to understand you, yet caught in the grey haze. Remember also the actual power of your words with regards to you speaking them. This has been a fun post to write but I know it did absolutely nothing to inspire any positive/optimistic thinking towards my job. (see, vocab is definitely suffering, I dislike severely using "thinking," when I know there is another word that will substitute much more aptly). Singing "I hate you so much, AGHH," at my computer and mountains of surveys around me does nothing but urge me to hate them more. Forcing myself to like them is quite out of the question, burning them would be more satisfying (which I still might) but the longer I sit here and speak words of loathing upon them, I might as well be speaking that same ill will towards the people running the centers and the girls headed to them.

Irena Sendler

Noticed this Holocaust article on msnbc and did a little bit of investigating.

Makes me wonder, "What am I doing?"

• There's more here about Ms. Sendler, but it's more focused on the girls in Kansas and the play.
• For some more information, which I personally found more helpful than msnbc and the Kansas website, Ol' Wikipedia comes to the rescue.
  

And yes, I just discovered how to link to a page and now show the whole entire link. I'm pretty excited about it!

MasterCard Parents

Monthly rent for apartment in the city (to get away from home ): $366 + utilities
Four months in small group that you found on your own: 40 hours of lost sleep/various activity costs
Attending graduation party for small group member: $4.50 for Hallmark Card
Parents showing up (unexpectedly/uninvited) on motorcycle at college graduation party of aforementioned member: 20 minutes of mortification where even death itself would shudder.

Having every person there audibly wish they had your parents: Priceless

Blogging the Bible

My superior, Bri, recommended this blog to me and I must say, it's very interesting. Jewish guy, David Plotz, is reading through the Bible and adding his own commentary. Now, I know, who wants to read about someone else reading the Bible? Right, but give it a chance. He's not a practicing Jew, yet has decided to see what the OT is all about. (running low on sleep so I'm having a hard time making this sound intriguing, but rest assured, it is)

http://www.slate.com/id/2141050/

Give it a once-over and then check out his actual blogs. It's kinda cool to see him run into the prophecies of the Christ.

And the tides began to change

From the time the U.S entered The War in 1941 to early 1943, the Pacific Theater was pretty much being run by the Japanese. The U.S was ill-equipped, albeit rushing to up the ante, and struggling against a well-prepared foe. As soon as the factories began turning out subs, ships, and fighters/bombers, the U.S began quickly catching up. Here's one of the more pivotal points in the war waged in the Pacific Theater. (About this time in the European Theater, the Soviets are busily maintaing their lead after whomping all over the Germans at Stalingrad. The U.S. has just started their bombing campaigns on Germany.)

Anyway, this is the point: the U.S has finally begun to make progress in the Pacific. Read on.

1943 : The Battle of the Bismarck Sea

On this day, U.S. and Australian land-based planes begin an offensive against a convoy of Japanese ships in the Bismarck Sea, in the western Pacific.

On March 1, U.S. reconnaissance planes spotted 16 Japanese ships en route to Lae and Salamaua in New Guinea. The Japanese were attempting to keep from losing the island and their garrisons there by sending 7,000 reinforcements and aircraft fuel and supplies. But a U.S. bombing campaign, beginning March 2 and lasting until the March 4, consisting of 137 American bombers supported by U.S. and Australian fighters, destroyed eight Japanese troop transports and four Japanese destroyers. More than 3,000 Japanese troops and sailors drowned as a consequence, and the supplies sunk with their ships. Of 150 Japanese fighter planes that attempted to engage the American bombers, 102 were shot down. It was an utter disaster for the Japanese--the U.S. 5th Air Force and the Royal Australian Air Force dropped a total of 213 tons of bombs on the Japanese convoy.

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill chose March 4, the official end of the battle, to congratulate President Franklin D. Roosevelt, since that day was also the 10th anniversary of the president's first inauguration. "Accept my warmest congratulations on your brilliant victory in the Pacific, which fitly salutes the end of your first 10 years."

Many thanks to the History Channel for this summary. You rock.

Easing up

I think I can finally breathe again. It comes with our nature, I believe, to over think things and mull over them until the point of obsession. At least it is mine! As soon as an idea forms within my mind, forget common sense and reality. Take my last few posts for example. Well, just the last two. The first one (Stupid wonderful life) obsessed over moving out on my own. I don't think I'm bold enough to say my mind. When, through patience and consideration, I was able to talk it out with someone I respect, I found that I wasn't fearful, I wasn't a coward, I just plain and simple felt no need to strike out on my own. Now that I've addressed that issue, it's probably very likely that I will. But now that I've calmed down and don't have to, I'm much more open to the idea. I had a horse that every time I introduced something new, she balked. As soon as I released her from any pressure of having to do that, the next time I asked her she was more than willing to go through with it.

I think it comes with the territory. I'm a fairly cheerful person. To think negatively feels like nails on chalkboard and so my joy is very dear to me, we get along quite well. However, my joy is something that once obtained, I have to fight to retain. Doubts and insecurities will creep in as soon as joy walks through the door. It's hard to fight for something that is now overshadowed by doubt! What's the point in fighting for something that might not really exist? It's easy to be joyful when surrounded by joyful people, but as soon as I'm alone the doubts creep in. Not fair, huh! Well, I like to think I'm a hot commodity for the Kingdom and if my joy is stolen, then who will I want share His love with? I tend to frustrate, annoy, and irritate those around me (as does anyone in my position) when my joy is gone, it's just against my nature. I become grounded in myself and desperate to try anything to regain my joy. Things dear to me become even dearer (aka my life, those close to me) and I fear that if my joy is gone, I'll lose them.

It's scary to be so honest! What eventually (hopefully sooner rather than later) happens though is that somewhere along the line, the Spirit manages to force it's way through all the commotion and through me a lifeline. There's always a note attached to this lifeline with these words, "I AM." At the risk of sounding.... cheesy, He is my calm in the storm. I step out of the whirl of my life and into His calm reality. My life is not my own, everything around me and in my life is there only for as long as God wills it. Such sweet surrender comes from that knowledge. It's quite freeing actually. I'm pretty sure there's a nice little pattern in my blogging as well. Weeks will go by lighthearted and cheerful, then there will be a flurry of desperate sounding posts, followed by the "whew, I made it through," post. This is one of them. David had them too.

Wait, a tic.. don't those with genius capabilities go through these ups and downs? Hmm.

Stupid wonderful life

Well, it's not stupid, but it can be aggravating at times! I do have a nicer post that's being mulled over but until then, this is how I feel.

I'm aggravated. Not at God, not with God's plan for my life, I'm absolutely in love with Him. I'm aggravated that I'm a pansy. I'm irritated that I don't want to move out of Ohio/Columbus without a close friend to be with me. I'm aggravated that Becky can move to Florida, Ashlie to Colorado (but she does have close friends out there), and Leslie to Cleveland then on to who knows where. I'm aggravated that I don't want to move out of Columbus because I'm actually worried that I might get mugged, abducted, or raped. Here's the kicker: I don't know that I would worry about that if I moved to a foreign country! Here's another little bit: I just don't think that I want to put myself out there in harm's way! Am I saying that all women who live on their own will be raped/mugged/abducted? No, but the chances are very high. Am I saying that by living in C-bus I'm limiting my chances of those things happening? Nope, but I do have a roommate. She's awesome. She carries mace while I flitter about without a care to my well being.

I'm angered that I think like this. I'm angered that I think about my well being and take into consideration that harm might come my way, so I take precautions to avoid it. I should be fearless. I should remind myself that God is with me at all times and nothing happens outside of His will. That said, I still don't want to move out on my own, sans roommate. I love people and having people around me, heck, having 7 roommates for 3 years was awesome! Thinking of living in a new town without close friends is.... not appealing. But I am brave! I do brave things! I travel the world by MYSELF! Ask anyone who knows me and they'll not call me a coward. I am brave like Becky and Leslie. I don't mind being by myself, I do know deep down that the Lord is with me. Really, deep down I know that. There's just something within me that rises up and says, "Man, no. I really don't want to do that!"

I think I'll go bang my head against the wall for a bit.

And if any of you quote scripture at me, I'll bang your head against the wall. Hey, I'm just being real...... and I'll really do it.

Stupid life. Am I not supposed to die to myself and live for Him? As a Christian I'm not called to worry about my well being! I'm not to give a care about myself. I think I've arrived at Frustration Station and I have one foot on the train to "Resting in Him," and the other in "selfishly-caring-about-my-own-life."

Well, now I've got to take off. I've got yogurt and orange juice in the trunk and if I don't get them into the fridge I might die of some parasite/virus/disease. Call that ironic.

L'isola di Iona

I haven't posted in quite some time (obviously) but hopefully this won't be as painful or time consuming as I keep thinking it will be.

Right about now I'm suffering from some remaining wisps of that painful travelling affliction they call ,"Jet Lag." So far I'm still (hah, still... like two days really) waking up at 3am and falling asleep around 6-ish. This means that around lunchtime I wander around the office in the hopes that I can find something that might keep me awake. Alas, coffee has lost it's hold on me and I fear I've become immune to caffeine. I'm also suffering from a lack of appetite. I was going to post about 3 weeks ago that I had been eating everything in sight (which is absolute truth), but I didn't mostly because it seemed ridiculous to just post that I had the appetite of 5 teenage boys. Now I've the appetite of a 80 year old lady with no teeth. Except I have teeth.

For all those who do read this post (and from what the public is telling me, quite a few of you do) in case you didn't know, I had been travelling for the last 9 days in Scotland. Hence the jet lag. 2 summers ago I spent a couple months in Italy and travelling around Western Europe/lower UK. Scotland has been my dream to visit since I was a young lass (mmhmm, and I did pick up some lovely vocab while over there) and after 20+- years, I finally made it. Scotland did not disappoint. She's as lovely as a country should be and more. Although I had planned on posting a few anecdotes, because they are so precious to me and so dear to my heart, I just cannot share them. I will share this in the hopes that self-deprecation will prove humoring.

Scene: Pitch-black evening, no stars out, no street lights, on the Island of Iona. Michael and I are walking back from the Bishop's House quiet service. There's one main road on Iona and our hostel is at the very end of it, down a farmer's lane, through a sheep pasture, and nestled among some crags. We're about halfway back to the hostel and it's been quite the journey in the dark. When I say you can't see anything, I mean, zero visibility. Suddenly a (unseen) dog starts howling and barking and proving itself quite the guard dog. I thought for sure it might be some large Doberman or such.

Michael: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.... Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil....." (etc)

Me: "Why are you reciting the Lord's prayer?"

Michael (whispering): "I'm not preparing to eat the dog, Sarah. I'm praying against it."

(end scene)

DISCLAIMER: I do know what the Lord's prayer is and I do know the 23 Psalm, I would like to remind all that all I could think about was the dinosaur-sized Doberman that was about to have me for a mid-evening snack. - Turns out the dog was a farm collie and friendly as all get out--yeah, not so hot with the whole dog barking interpretation.... I'll work on that though.


The truth be that my heart was eager for Scotland and the beauty that one's heart and soul desires was found there. The most precious little nooks and crannies of my heart that are reserved for embracing true beauty were loved on and filled. Each person's heart is unique in their shape and so only few things will ever fill and fit that mold precisely. My heart's mold ran over with all that tried to pour into it for each minute was filled with something that my heart desired. I remember kneeling down at the beach on Iona and thinking that if I just felt the sand in my hand and placed a tangible feeling to what I was feeling inside, I might be able to ground myself. I let the sand dribble down between my fingers and slowly rubbed the granules but instead of drawing me out of the whirl of beauty I was experiencing, it only proved to add to it. It only proved to show me that it was real.

This past year and much more so these past few months have taken me much deeper in my quest to know my Lord. I've continuously asked myself these questions:

• Why am I a Christian?
• What does it mean to follow Christ? (and by that, follow God/Holy Spirit)
• When I shed all that does not pertain to the truth of following Christ (the things that we humans add that will supposedly help our relationship with Christ (rules and such)) what do I do with this freedom?
• Should I be this free?

Mostly I've been dwelling on the whole concept of Free Will. I don't know if I shall be struck down by lightning with this next sentence (family joke), but I think I would be a Christian merely (hah, merely) for the sake of His Free Will. Now I am no philosopher or theologian (although, as a Christian I'm probably entitled to be) so for all ye great thinkers out there who know everything, please refrain from commenting. Allow me my mullings. Allow me to reference to 1 John 4: 7-19. The general gist is this: He loved us first (v 19). He didn't make me love him although each day is filled with loving Him because He loved me. I have been chosen, but I believe I had the free will to say aye or nay. The minute I said, "Aye," I walked through this gateway and when I had gone through and turned around on the back of the gateway it said "Chosen." But per usual, I digress.

I shall be hurt, heart broken, and wronged all my life. At some point I know I shall suffer great injustices. Many times people will hold things against me that I never committed or said. Lives of loved ones around me will be taken and those I hold dearest may turn from me and never love me again. There might be a time when I am greatly injured, either emotionally or physically, and I will never be the person I was prior to that. But for all of that, I will rejoice. For those who commit those wrongs against me are living proof that the Lord loves me. They have the very same free will that I have and for that I am desperately thankful. It is at the expense of the innocents that we all have the free will to love Him, but He shall stick true to His love for us. He loves all equally and is eager to share Himself with all equally. How could I love a God who loved me more than my neighbor? Evil men and women are just as equally given free will as the innocents and I love Him for that. And what more precious is this, knowing that the innocents shall suffer great harm and pain and abuse so that He might love us all, He has provided His Spirit so that we might always have healing and love readily available.

Now carry that in your heart and travel to the lands of Scotland and Iona and tell me that a pouring out of His love and beauty in your soul is unrealistic. So many "Christians" wander around morose with the complaint that they are never shown His love. I ask you if you've prepared your heart to receive it! Haven't you longed for His love? Why do you keep telling yourself that it's unrealistic? Don't ever let go to that which your heart deems as precious. What is unrealistic is this: that so many of you might come up to me and ask me why I have all the wonderful experiences! Why are you so envious?! I am no different! I refuse to give up the hope and desires of my heart. I shall cling to them like a drowning sailor in a hurricane clasps a life-ring. I might not have the mind of a physicist, I might not have the talent of a world class gymnast, and I might not have the ability of a surgeon. (I say might not just because I don't want the rest of you to feel bad if it turns out that I do :)) but I do know that in this life, I have His love and He has made known His love to me. That's all I care about.

Oh yeah. I don't know if I mentioned this, but Scotland was great! If you ever visit Iona, tell the people at the Abbey that the starving Americans sent them and send their best!

Wonderments

• That God created us with eyes. Bats don’t use their eyes to see and they get around just fine! Technically speaking, God didn’t have to create us with eyes but yet we have them. It is amazing that God cared enough about our relationships with one another and God’s creation that we were given eyes. I think I take them for granted. And I'm slightly fearful to look into them.

• Humor. Why do we find things funny? Why do we laugh? Why is it so healthy to laugh? This puzzles me and yet I shall continue to laugh until I can laugh no more or all the funny people and things in life die off. Even then I shall continue to laugh at myself… so I guess I’ll laugh forever! (Surely God must have laughter in heaven.)

• Four Mysteries from Proverbs 30:18-19 (New Living Translation)
  “18There are three things amaze me, no, four things I don’t understand: 19how an eagle glides through the sky, how a snake slithers on a rock, how a ship navigates the ocean, how a man loves a woman.”

• Stocks, bonds, and Roth IRAs. Thank goodness Josh set up my Roth but it’ll be years from now before the S&K 500 and I ever form a lasting friendship.

• Beauty. It amazes me that certain things can appeal so perfectly to our senses. In that same line, that certain things can repel me so.

• Imagination. One of the things (along with beauty) for which I needed no instruction.

• Friendship. How is that people who have had the most polar upbringings may form a lasting friendship and that some friendships may find themselves bound by kindred spirits. Along with that, emotional bonds. I’m frequently amazed that two people may form an emotional bond and after their relationship has ended that bond will continue until it is healed.

• Babies. Anything baby. Why is it that any living baby, be it human or animal, or even ideas, seems so wonderful and cuddly and delightful while still very young? Animals certainly cannot find any attraction in their young, I mean, look at the mates they pick! (I know, I know, it’s all about survival, but still!) There is no purpose for their young to be so darling! In that same strain, how is it that human babies can be such terrors! A little infant can reduce a grown man to tears and fear in less than 2 seconds. Why are they so precious?!

• My car engine. Just today it started making a new terrific noise. I think though that it’s a ploy to harass me and be a daily reminder that although I can pretend to know what I’m talking about, I’ll never understand what the manifold gasket does. And yes, I've been shown a million times and just recently a good friend of mine sat me down and we watched movies and diagrams about it and he gets it but I haven't the slightest idea anymore.

• Geniuses. The French guy who first made movies and Ford (or whoever developed the first steam vehicle) render me speechless and forever in awe. How do they do that? And how in the world do people write symphonies? How?! I tried to "channel" some Mozart while in Salzburg and I just could not conjure up anything! Not even a short little ditty.

• The fact that I was ashamed to wear make-up. I strongly desire to walk around au naturel but good gracious! just let me step foot in the cosmetics aisle and I'm a sucker for a new mascara or blush or lip gloss! I'm reading a book called Travelling Mercies and in it the author describes using cosmetics as (and a I grievously paraphrase) "to enhance the beauty that is there, not cover it up." I felt as though a great burden has dropped off my shoulders because I was literally ashamed to be cosmetically inclined! Thank you so much Travelling Mercies authoress!

I'll be adding to this list often so do check back if you so desire.

P.S The snow has been falling off and on over the weekend and my little cheery lamplight and tree-friends are just absolutely delighted. They told me so. They also encouraged me to gaze out on the swirling snow in the lamplight and to take notice of the saplings' and pine tree's new attire..... as often as I so desired. I think they are all quite dashing and resplendent and shall take them up on their offer.

Warm, bright, cheery light.

After much deliberation, it has been determined by the powers in charge (ahem, me) that while the hiatus in posting was necessary and a most deliberate decision, there happens to be certain occasions that arise and deem an untimely post necessary. I shall continue my hiatus/sabbatical after this post, as I am never one to take joy in going against my word. Ergo I shall break this draught of posting to bring you all some very important news.

Snow has arrived to Ohio and it is now officially winter!
When I say snow, I do not mean a dusting and I do not mean flurries. I mean three inches and counting and no roads plowed. I mean driving to church and wondering if it is cancelled and then fishtailing twice (the one time was with mother after church and as she is my witness, we were going sideways down the road and I pulled us out of it with nary a bat of the eye). When I say snow, I say BY JOVE IT HAS SNOWED!

To celebrate said snowfall I took a three hour nap at the rents and then went sledding and sledding and snowball-fighting. Tried hooking up the Great Dane to see if she'd pull me along while on the sled but she just pulled me along, sans sled. Can I just say this, and I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but I love snow. I really really really love snow. I love driving in it, I love sledding in it, I love skiing in it, I love walking in it, and I certainly don't mind shovelling it. Snow is magical.

Right now I am sitting at my window in Columbus. There, right outside my window, is a most beautiful scene. A big pond stretches out before me and right in front of my window there is a lamppost. Next to this lamppost are a couple of saplings and a darling little pine and I like to think that they are a very happy group. There is no reason for this lamppost to be in such an illogical spot so I just know that it is there just for me. The tree limbs are covered in snow now and the pine tree looks romantic as a snow-covered pine tree should. The lamppost gives off such a warm golden glow that covers its friends and seems to be an invitation to admire the scene. Of course I am more than happy to oblige. It's my lamppost in Narnia.

Without this wonderful picture before me, I don't know that I could ever have returned to the city without despairing that I would miss out on this most marvelous snowfall. I have been giving a small present, a souvenir one might call it, and I am most blessed. The Lord knows just how to meet the small unspoken needs in my heart and takes great joy in filling them as a bridegroom should. Doesn't that speak volumes about the bride He is pursuing and His love for her?

Oh Dad.

Ok, I lied. I couldn't wait to post this forward that my father sent me so NOW I'm starting my two week sabbatical from posting. (this is just to prove that Bri's father is not the only one who sends out crazy forwards) See you in two weeks.

Subject: THE DONKEY

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do.

Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well.

At first, the donkey didn’t realize what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing.He would shake it off and take a step up.

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up. Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.
Free your mind from worries - Most never happen.
Live simply and appreciate what you have.
Give more.
Expect less


NOW ............Enough of that crap........The donkey later came back, and bit the farmer who had tried to bury him. The gash from the bite got infected and the farmer eventually died in agony from septic shock.

MORAL FROM TODAY'S LESSON: When you do something wrong, and try to cover your ass, it always comes back to bite you.

Nota Bene

Unfortunately, due to unforseen (and I mean, completely unforseen) circumstances, I will be taking a two week sabbatical from posting commencing yesterday. Posting will continue when there no longer lies within me the desperate urge to crawl into a hole and cry myself out of existance.

In Memoriam donations may be sent to:

The Ohio State University
C/O PTSD Committee for the Health of Ardent OSU Alumni NCAA Football Fanatics.
Columbus, OH 43210.

Linen shirts and leather boots.

So it’s 11:59p on Saturday night as I start this entry. Right, wait a bit…. and now it’s 12a on 1/07/2007. Buona mattina tutti!

Now I know most of the rest of the world paid attention in history class (as I most certainly did) but I think I failed to realize just the extent to which Great Britain involved herself with Northern Africa. In the last week, in 3 completely unpremeditated and unrelated instances, I’ve read and watched examples of such. Just this week alone I read The Four Feathers and Sharpe’s Tiger, and today because it was the last movie in our pile that we have yet to see, Lindsey and I watched “The English Patient.”

All three books (we’ll include “The English Patient” as a book because it started out as such and will make this entry incredibly easier to write, so I’ll thank you not to make a big to do about what the book was like and how it’s probably not at all like the movie and how the book is so much better than the movie and blah blah blah. Hush. Besides, I don’t want your opinion whoever you are that wasted the time to read that sex-driven novel, as a matter of fact, I do believe that if you did read that book you should be in a state of penitence at the moment. Trash and no plot. It was a big affair that should have stopped but no, Katherine just couldn’t resist the adoring eyes of another man. Rotten behavior by most and I don’t know what he was thinking when he left her in that cave. I mean, please, start the credits rolling then because you KNOW what’s going to happen! If he loved her, he would have carried her or rigged up one of those Native American things that they pulled behind dogs and horses. Chavois? What the crap is that called? Right, hold on. (Commence grumbling about it being 12:30 and no idea what the heck that thing is called; they always talk about it in the books. Wakefield, come on!). GOT IT! A Travois! Now those Native Americans, they really know their stuff. If someone’s injured and there’s no water transportation available, THEY DON’T LEAVE THE YOUNG AND HELPLESS. GOT IT Cmte. Ralph Fiennes from Hungary? Idiot. There’s a war going on and he’s got some name that’s Hungarian but the Americans/Canadians/Brits don’t really care at this point because they’ve been getting the crap kicked outta them for years and now it’s revenge baby. Tough crap ol’ chap. You should have known. Plus you left her to die all by her lonesome and now she’s writing poetry about it!(p.s. she probably died hating your guts) Here’s what you do my good man, you rip off the rest of the wing that was shattered in the plane crash and use it as a sled, rig up a mast with the wing supports, then you tie all the rest of the parachute silk to it and presto! You’re windsurfing on the sand and you’re taking the love of your life (cheaters that you are) with you so that she won’t be left behind when you get mistaken for a German count and have to travel far far away then jump off a train and nearly break your ankle in the process. And you wouldn’t have to betray your country to fly back to her to get her AFTER she died and then crash and then burn your face up and then die) [1] deal with lots of desert and fighting and the Brits.

So anyway, where was I? Oh wait, one more point. If we as a people do not want to see naked people in public, what the heck makes you think we want close ups of naked people in movies for SEVERAL REALLY LONG SCENES? I avoid looking at naked people in public (Barcelona, Italy, Downtown Columbus), I certainly don’t want to have to sit through MULTIPLE scenes in a movie looking at a naked person. I know I choose to watch the movie but should I have to sacrifice a movie just because somewhere someone said naked people are supposed to be entertaining? And with that, what is with the sex scenes? What purpose do they serve? Don’t we all joke about shuddering at the thought of those old dorm days with your roomies and their mates (fyi, my roomies never did, they all were freaking fantastic)? If we don’t want to watch it in real life, then why is it in there when it doesn’t have to be? We get that they’re having an affair, we’re not daft, we don’t need you to spell it out for us! And I know I would lose this argument if ever confronted with opposition but I’m allowed to have my opinion here, whew. And don’t get me started on that whole “Yes, but this is art,” crap. I know art when I see it and there was nothing “Birth of Venus,” about this.

This is so not where this post was headed. I cannot even recall where I was going with this. Something about sand and Brits and lions and tigers. Oh right, Africa. This whole desert thing is starting to grow on me. I’ve always wanted to read T.E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom (the T.E. Lawrence of “Lawrence of Arabia”, you know, Peter O’Toole, early 1900’s, desert) and I have read Kenneth Robert’s Lydia Bailey, and “The Last Crusade,” is one of my favorite movies, along with “The Black Stallion Returns,” “Hidalgo,” and any movie set in a desert for that matter (just as long as there are no scorpions involved, I absolutely hate scorpions.) So, I want to travel Northern Africa. That’s the point. I should have studied archaeology and headed down to Egypt or Tunisia or even Algeria, but no, I didn’t. History might help I do believe. (wink wink, maybe a little). I think I would like to see the endless miles of sand dunes. There’s something very adventurous about the desert and its mysteries. I want to see the stars at night out there, under an endless sky. I want to race the wind on an Arabian horse and laugh when we come to the end of our course. Realizing that there is more to the desert then riding horses and crossing sand dunes and staring at the sky (though what else there is I don’t know) I am fully prepared to prepare myself for all that comes with my dreams.

A point about the Brits and the desert is this: The Brits, a cold, wet, and dreary group, (whom I’ve always thought were contented to live as Englishmen due to the fact they all stemmed from the same Celtic/Anglo/Saxon/Jute backgrounds and obviously chose the British Isles because they liked them) managed to wrangle their way into a land that in no way resembled England and set up a thriving economy and (at some points) a government and many Englishmen actually stayed there! But it is understandable to me why the British would have been so keen on Northern Africa. Look at where they lived! England is like the size of a postage stamp! Everything is packed in nice and cozy to make room for everyone and out in the desert, there’s nothing but hundreds of miles of nothing! Who knew that a country that small would eventually become known as the empire upon which the sun never sets! It takes determination and an urgency inspired by the prospect of near-death to accomplish what they did. In no way am I condoning one nation taking over another nation but I must give credit where credit is due. (But if ya’ll ever head back to the States, remember this: you gave up once, do you really want that shame again? This young buck of a country is growing up and growing up quick…just thought I’d throw that out there, in case the tides ever changed)

Next time: Cowardice. Who has felt its stung, when does it most commonly attack, why does it attack, and how we can prevent it. (I have, when I'm skiing, because I got off the bunny hill and am now looking down a flippin' mountain, by staying in the lodge)

[1] Right, I know what you’re thinking, all that was in parentheses?

Run Chicken, Run!

I'm at my aunt and uncle's house in the country this week. It's an absolutely gorgeous house filled with antiques and my aunt's art works. It's pretty much a vacation. Located on about 10 acres with a pond and weeping willows and garden after garden, it's also home to some goats (for goats milk) and chickens, and several dogs and cats. Let me lay this out there, I pretty much hate chickens. I like eggs and fried chicken and any chicken dish you can imagine. I detest, nay, loathe, live chickens.

Far be it from me to disturb any chicken for fear they might claw my eyes out. Yet disturb I had to otherwise the mean ol' fox in the field might eat them or that chops-licken' raccoon down by the pond. So being the good niece that I am and fulfilling my house-sitting/farmhand responsibilities I headed back out to the barn to round me up some chickens. I would have left them alone to sleep (or die) in peace (unless they're dying) but no, cousin Josh thought it most imperative that the chicken coop contain all chickens. Forget that I might get my eyes CLAWED OUT! Forget that I might never get to see again! Forget that no chicken is important enough to risk physical harm! Nope, come hell or high-water, them chickens was going in th'coop.

Armed with nothing but my trusty dog Murphy (chuckle, yeah, not feeling the whole trusty part with a name like Murphy, but you never know) and a huge dose of courage, I strutted into that barn like a Banty rooster, sized up a hen, and squinting through my right eye (hey, if I'm going to lose them to a flippin' chicken, I'm not going down with eyes wide open), I reached out and hoped for the best. Well, if hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I'd hate to see what the analogy is for a disgruntled layer. That hen let loose like her tail was on fire. Feathers flew, hay flew, and squawking like you've never heard before. You would have thought I was chasing her with a frying pan the way she let off.

Chickens 1, Sarah 0

There were 3 hens left on the fence so I gathered my wits and headed for the second one. By the way, Murphy, my fearless companion, yeah, not so fearless. He was huddled behind some hay bales watching me with an amused expression on his black curly face as if to say, "well, I never said I'd help!" And the goats! Oh those Alpines, I knew they were mocking me! They were all lined up in a row to watch the action. I'm surprised the peacocks weren't around hooting and hollering. Well, it's better than having a human audience..... I think.

The next chicken snatching fared as well as the first, only this time all the chickens left the fence and scattered throughout the barn. Great, now my chicken record's as good as my P-I-G record against my 11 year old brother! Just then my little eye spied some other, more sleepy looking, victims in the goat pen. At this point I was bound and determined that at least one chicken was going to get in that coop if it was the last thing I did. So I snuck into that goat pen, along the wall, and over to the corner where my last chances at redemption dozed peacefully (or so I thought). If I had snuck up behind them and set of a fog-horn it wouldn't have been any different. This time I held on longer and did my best to secure that blasted chicken in the crook of my arm (apparently that's what you're supposed to do). But apparently the tighter you cling to that chicken, the more frantic it becomes, and this time ALL the chickens outside of the coop, along with the one previously held in my arms, ran either all through the barn or outside into the night. And Murphy chased them. And I stood there, wounded and dejected. And the goats laughed.

Apparently herding chickens doesn't work as well. Tomorrow night, if that chicken doesn't make it's coop-curfew, well, say hello to Mr. Fox and Mr. Raccoon, they've an outstanding invitation to dinner.

Happily mistaken!

Attitudes are not to be relied upon. Prayer changes attitudes. Thus prayer is to be relied upon.

Earlier I discussed the matter of my dysfunctional family and our dysfunctional Christmas gathering. Funny thing, before I went to our dysfunctional celebration, I gave it up to Christ and said "Do with it what you will, I, however, will not enter that house bearing anything but a Christ-like attitude and mentality." Turns out it was one of the best, if not the best family Christmas gathering I have ever attended. It was hard to enter the house with my "I love my family because Christ loves my family" mentality but as I had given it over to the Lord already I washed my hands of the whole matter and decided to celebrate at any costs. (thanks to some orange juice and champagne, it was a heck of a lot easier than I thought! .... ok, kidding, really. (well, not tooo "really." but yeah, nevermind))

Also as it turns out, my uncle has a 1959 Austin Healey "Bugeyed" Sprite. You can imagine how we got along after I told him about my 1976 MG-B! If I bought that car just for the look and appreciation on my uncle's face for that one day, it was worth it. He was literally stunned out of his socks and throughout the entire time, my uncle, my esteemed uncle, sought me out to talk about cars. He even volunteered to wash and wax it if I brought it over. He's so excited to go to Mid-Ohio Vintage car races with our cars (tee hee, this is so great) and... well, I just can't get over how surprised and excited he was. Plus he let me ride in the Sprite with my cousin Michael at the helm, who had never even driven the car before. My cousin Michael and I have never spoken more than ohh... 5 sentences between ourselves and Saturday, we chatted the whole afternoon! Talked about his new restaurant, his wife's car, talked about motorcycles, OSU, you name it. As for my aunts... well, next time I'll bring some exotic dish and we can talk about cooking and decorating and such. Anyway, the power of prayer is not to be underestimated. (and if you have a spare vintage car handy, that helps too).

So much for being a "British" car.

So I'm ranting and as soon as I post this, it will (ok, might) be over. But still....

http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-chickasaw10dec10,0,7483753.story?page=1

So I'll finally get the "new" MGF and maybe the MGR but that's not the point. Point is: I don't care that they made MGs in the U.S 30 years ago, I care that now we can no longer call it a British car. It's like making tea in China and then moving the factory to South America with African investors and calling it "Chinese Tea." Or making Belgian chocolates and then moving the entire factory over to....Afghanistan and merging with Mongolian investors and calling the chocolate, "Belgian Chocolate." The recipe may still be the same but HELLO, it's no longer true Chinese tea or Belgian Chocolate. EVERYONE knows you have to go to the original country to get the valid object. *sob* it's just not the same.... *another sob* I don't want everyone else to have the same car.....*pounds the desk* I want to be unique...I want to be original.......What? Yes I'm 23! 5 year old? Excuse me? Tantrum? I beg to differ, it's called being passionate, and yes, the floor of my office is just fine. SO THERE!

And yet another ramification for the Western Expansion. Isn't that just great.

The Solution

Good gracious! So I've been ranting for several posts (2) that I'm never going to go past the "good" emotion to ecstatic or tragic. After talking to a good friend of mine I realized that that's not important. What is important is this: I must make the most of this "good" time that I have. To let it go by without utilizing this peaceful time would be a waste. This is the time to read and delve into the Word. This is the time to fill myself up on the knowledge of Him. If I'm going to be in a "good" time then I'm certainly going to make the most of it.

Solution: For period of "easy times" use every moment and all spare time to "brush up" or explore the heart of God from all aspects and learn as much as possible while I can.

Meet me here, dear heart.

Nota Bene: I love most movies. Not all movies but most movies. Not silly chick-flicks or horror/gory movies and not romantic comedies but the movies where deep inside you emotions are affected by the circumstances and characters in that movie. The emotions that the world does not see and you yourself might not know what they are but they are moved. Be it action/adventure, drama, or even comedy. Do not discredit emotions because they might react to a movie. Do not scoff but know this: whoever created that movie and whoever had the idea for that movie knew those emotions you are feeling. That's my take on it. I will be referencing to many a movie character in this post, if you're one to jest and poke fun then this post is not for you to read. Thank you.

It's come to this: I have resigned myself to the knowledge that I will most likely lead a peaceful and harmonious life for the next 60+ years (or longer, depending on if they find that stinkin' Fountain of Youth... gosh Cortez! *chuckle*). For many people that would be a desire met. How many people long for a peaceful life in harmony with the rest of mankind? And I take it for granted. Strife, I do not ask for but possibly tragedy and most definitely adventure and passion. I only ask that I feel. I want to know that I can feel.

I recently took a personality test for church and basically I'm personality-less. Well, not true, but the results came back that I had unclear goals in life and thus my personality at this time cannot be determined. Well, my core personality that is, my outer mask is one of "Adviser." Whoopdy Doo. It's true though, I do have unclear goals. In fact, I wonder if my goals (other than loving and following my Lord which is definitely the prime goal of my life) even exist. I would even go so far as to say that in lieu of the fact I do not have any goals that in and of itself is a reflection of the lack of emotion within me. Follow? Right, probably not, but pretend you do.

Point is: Am I never to experience a Great Adventure and a real passion for something? (Before I go to far, realize that I'm not asking for tragedy and a harsh life, just adventure and passion and not passion as the world would think) I used to think that I was a mistake. Not a pregnancy mistake but that God is preparing for the Rapture and realized that little curly-haired me still had yet to grace the Earth with her presence (that's right, grace you all with my wonderful presence...yup, you heard me) and so he threw me in right quick before the end times. Now I know those are only lies from the enemy of our souls but it's still hard not to wonder why I am here now. Why not 700 years ago? Why not 100 years ago? (nota bene due: Yes, I know how hard it was back then, I happen to know a bit about history so back up off it) Why now? Why in the U.S? Why in Ohio (Well, obviously God is a Buckeye...)

If I am created uniquely to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, and strength, and if I am created the way I am, with these desires for adventure and passion, then is there a reason for this cubicle existence? Point is: Will I ever be rescued like Elizabeth in "Pirates of the Caribbean," and Jessica in "Man from Snowy River"? Will I ever sob like Christian in "Moulin Rouge"? Will there be a daring mission where I am needed? Will I ever risk my life to save another's as Maj. Winters does in "Band of Brothers"? Will I ever really care about something? Am I not focused on the Lord enough? Have I skipped over something basic in Christianity 101? Is it because I live in the U.S? Or is it a matter of faith? It could very well be that I must wait. All that is needed is a promise that yes, I will partake in a great adventure and will know someday what it is to be passionate about something. (I feel a lot better now that I wrote this all down, not so... panicky now)

I love how soundtracks and certain songs pluck at your heartstrings. I've been listening a lot to the "Pirates of the Caribbean" and "Last of the Mohicans" soundtrack along with "Star Wars," "Man from Snowy River," "Rhapsody in Blue," and "Saving Private Ryan." Throw in some more instrumental soundtracks and my heart is all over the place. Then I start looking over pictures of England and France and next thing you know, I"m thinking "Ok Lord, what about the part where I'm supposed to be a young Lady Wakefield cantering all over the countryside?" Oh yeah, and "Lord... what the heck am I doing in Ohio? Shouldn't I be winning cross-country event or travelling around on a small yacht, living off the ocean? What about the part where I help find a historical treasure? Remember that life I'm supposed to save in that foreign land? What about where I'm sitting on the patio of a small villa overlooking the clear waters of an Alpine lake?..... Um, Lord...?"

And that's what starts a post like this one.

The Agony of Earth

Do you ever watch a movie and it so stirs you that you cannot watch it again for several months?

I do. I’ll watch a movie and it will break my heart in a way that I cannot express. The girl deep inside of me will cry out and say, “That’s supposed to be me!” It’s a very rare movie that will have that effect on me but when it happens, it’s a most severe stab to the heart. There is never a greater blow to the heart than the one that affects the soul. The girl that I really am, the perfect girl inside who I really would be without the Fall, cries out because she knows that character. She says, “Yes, that is me, that is who I should have been!” Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m now and I am who I am because that is who I've been created to be but the Fall’s effects are still being felt. Wouldn’t we all be different (drastically) had the Fall never happened? I digress. The point is not the Fall but the person you are deep within that has remained unaffected by the Fall and that is your true person, your Name.

Recall that in heaven we will all be given our True name. I maintain that there is part of me that knows my True name and when it comes across examples of it in this world, my soul leaps out with that recognition. When that happens I am not sure of how I should handle it. I just know that I cannot go near whatever it was that my soul knew because of the heartbreak that ensues. The object that my soul recognizes as part of my Name nearly pierces my soul and that area is so tender that to go near it again would only cause more heartbreak. Certain music, books, movies, and interactions cause that injury. The injury, besides being composed of heart-wrenching pain, also feels like a kick to the stomach. The days after said event usually are filled with a certain amount of grief, despair, and a touch of depression. My heart, interestingly enough, does feel a great amount of joy in the recognition of a part of its Name but the aftertaste of reality sets in not soon after.

Heaven will be that Name. I’ve no doubt now that Heaven will be that which fulfills my soul’s thirst for a Name. If ever I wanted to be a character in a movie, the agony that my soul feels by that desire will be met by Heaven. That is where I will be whole, that is where I will be my Name, I will be the true Sarah.

John Eldredge’s book Wild at Heart, which should be read by every human, talks in great detail about the moments here on Earth that are glimpses of heaven and our true Names. Nostalgia is a great example, i.e. “The Good Ol’ Days,” another example would be when hiking out in the countryside and the view just takes your breath away. Music and lyrics that “speak” to you, books where your soul says, “Yes, I know that! Art, be it in any form, that causes your heart to ache even just a bit are tastes of what Heaven will be. Heaven is not The Land of Fulfillment of our every “worldly” desire nor is it the land of eternal harp playing (or attempting, for some of us). If our soul reacts towards those particular moments here on Earth when it recognizes its true name, can we not acknowledge that He Who created us will not deny us our true identity when we are reunited with Him? Would the Bridegroom deny anything His Bride? If He surrendered His very life so that we might be reunited with Him for eternity, if He has gone through those great lengths even to death, to save us, do you honestly believe He would relegate us to anything less than complete unity with our Truthful names?

That is what my soul must realize in order to continue on past the brutal agony when it cannot be joined with its Name in this life. The pain is much to “personal” to bear without the promise of eternity as my Name. The simple things that speak to my soul i.e. the desire to be the beauty to be rescued, the desire to share in a great adventure, and the desire to be desired, are just too great to be ignored. Yet I cannot help but resign myself to the knowledge that those desires will not be met during my time on this Earth. Those desires were created for a reason, they are there because they are who I am, but they will not be met now. And that is why my hope rests in He Who created me. Those are the treasures I look forward to, nay, desperately look forward to, enjoying.

Tidings of NOT joy!

My family spells our last name D-y-s-f-u-n-c-t-i-o-n. That's right, dysfunction. And you know what, it's not just my immediate family, as it turns out my entire family tree on either side all have the same last name! Freaky. Hey, want to invite the Dysfunctions over? Sure, they're always good for amusement. Did you hear about that family that is getting together 2 WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS AT 11:30 AM to celebrate Christmas? Why no I didn't! Yes, it's the DYSFUNCTION family. Dad Dysfunction, Mom Dysfunction, Big Brother Dysfunction, Little Sister Dysfunction, Aunt and Uncle Dysfunction and all our little Dysfunction cousins!

Riddle me this: what kind of family, FAMILY, gets together TWO weeks (14 days or 336 hours) before Christmas, at 11:30 AM to celebrate?

My family. My insane, dysfunctional, related only by blood and name, completely ridiculous family. Hey everyone, let's celebrate Christ's birth by pretending we're only friends and scheduling a convenient time DURING LUNCH. What better way to help our nieces and nephews and grandchildren bond and grow together? That's right, over ham and pie, early enough before Christmas that everyone forgets that we even met. I mean, we only meet once a year anyway, why make it special? Why make it memorable? Why even try?

That's why when I have a family (there, I said it) we're getting together for Christmas no earlier than 2 days before Christmas and I am living in a house big enough for everyone to stay over. Heck, we might just all stay together for the entire time from Christmas to New Years. Why not? We'll bake and cook and eat and drink and play cards from dawn till dusk. We'll make snowmen (because God couldn't possibly deny us snow-- um...please Lord?) and we'll decorate cookies. I'll have my parents over (they're pretty awesome) and brothers and sister and my husband can have his family over and the adults will stay up late and drink wine and no matter what differences may pop up, we'll work through them. Our house will be lit with candles and pine scents from our tree and pine boughs and lights will be everywhere! And we'll have Wassil and Mulled Cider and Mulled wine. We'll stay up late and talk about Christ and the incredible passion of Christ and his love for us. We'll argue theology and discuss books and poems and the like.

That is when we will no longer be a dysfunctional family. Then and only then.

Two Races.

Last night I wrote a post, published it, and then as soon as I woke up, took it down. I felt that although it was truly a good post, very honest, very genuine, it wasn't worthy of publishing. I desperately want to write a post. These last two weeks though, the time and energy have not been conducive whatsoever to writing anything. I have been mulling over an idea and I think I'm going to use it now, if anything it'll be a snack until something better comes along.

My Christian walk is like my running. Took awhile to get moving, but once I found the joy that comes with the running and the athletic fitness it brings with it, I wanted more. So I ran more. Like my Walk my faith was there (my ability to run) but I had never quite put it into action. Once I began Walking (running) I realized how important it is! Though there were times of great struggle and of pain and awakening and the ripping off of scabbed-over wounds, (burning lungs and running up hill) the cleansing of my heart and the dedication to He who created me overrode all the agony (similar to cleansing the body of toxins). I began to study so as to improve my walk (time), I committed myself to contributing to my Walk with devotions (committed time running), and I began to acquire essentials such as books by Lewis, Chambers, Eldredge, etc.(running shoes, shorts, tops). If I hurried and skipped over the essentials and tried to prove my faith too soon, (running too long too quickly and not stretching) I ended up battered and bruised a bit from reactions and situations I had not prepared for (stress fractures), having to go back and start over and this time, pay attention to the details of Christ's attitude and instruction.(returning to running after physical therapy). After it seemed I had plateaued in my faith and had no reason for exploring deeper into the Heart of God (running several 5Ks and doing fine) I would drop the ball in my Walk (quit running). Once however, I brought in structure to my life, be it via planner or what not; as soon as I re-introduced discipline (began going to the gym or outside), my Walk (running) would take off again!

If I lounged around the house, watched TV, or spent time on the Web, my walk (and running) suffered. So did the rest of my life. Friendships waned, going out and doing things slowed to a crawl, and sometimes depression would set in. The key is to keep moving. My parents taught me to never wallow in self-pity/ self-loathing but to just keep moving because I would eventually drag myself out of that slump. And they're right. Time after time, when I heeded their advice, I found myself ready to move on, ready to get Walking (running). Once you experience the change in your Christ-muscles (nice calves), you want more (toned thighs). It's hard sometimes to crack open that Bible or devotional (put on the shoes, get outside), but once you're in the middle of reading and praying, one realizes how imperative it is to continue the Race (running).

Some people would tell you to move along on a solid course. No depths or heights, just plug along running and walking without interruption and without change. I beg to differ. King David plunged to the depths and then soared to the heights. God loved his heart. If I stayed at a true horizontal walk, moving along in a tried and true pattern, where is the trust in Him? If my life were never to change, if I were to avoid all depths, I could not experience the heights. Just as if I always ran 2 miles, afraid that going 3 might kill me and 1 might not be enough. I'm neither challenging myself nor stretching the limits. I am lukewarm (hey, that sounds familiar!). My Walk may seem like a crawl or a sprint at times, but I prefer that to the tortoise. Slow and steady will finish the race, but the crawler/sprinter learns a lot more.

Just some winter humor!

Happy Holidays!

There is something about Christmastime that brings so much joy to my heart. This is the time when we celebrate Christ's birth; a time for all to publicly rejoice in redemption's arrival. I understand that nowadays the world wants us to say "Happy Holidays," instead of "Merry Christmas," but isn't it essentially the same? So I'm going to go on now in my blissful state and continue to sing the praises for this season. You know why I like it so much? Because deep within us all our souls, even those held captive, are celebrating. For some that voice is as tiny as a church-mouse's whisper, for others it is as loud as thunder, but in all of us it is there. The voice of our souls saying "my redeemer has come! Hallelujah, let us rejoice! Let us sing and shout for joy because today, on this day, salvation came into the world and we are set free!"

This is why I love the holidays. There is this atmospheric tension that seems to build. Each day is more pregnant than the last with the anticipation of our dear Savior's birth! And the whole world celebrates! Lights are strung up, bells are hung, tree's decorated, gifts bought, garland wrapped down banisters, carolers sing, Christmas music blares from every speaker available, and people bake the most delicious food ever! Do you realize no other day, nay, no other season can hold a candle (pun intended) to the amount of songs dedicated to this time? The songs go on forever! Beautiful melodic songs that we sing that began in the 12th century? What song do you know that began 9 centuries* (900 years) ago that we still sing? Right!

Yes this is a time for retailers to rejoice as well, but realize this, no matter how commercialized this time becomes, it only exists for one reason. For One reason is there this holiday season and quite frankly it can become as materialistic as anything because in the long run, in the end, the True Reason for this season will win. You can take my credit card but you can't take the Christ out of Christmas. You can change the name for all I care, you could make into whatever you want, be it Presents day, be it Spendallyourmoney Day, be it Reindeer Day, WHO CARES?! Do you really think that your soul will be change its tune just because our society (bear in mind it is only a society) is trying to warp this season? My soul will still rejoice and so will yours! If I were kept in a windowless room and my ears were closed, my soul would still know this season.



* O Come O Come Emmanuel.

For a plethora of Christmas Carols and Hymns, visit http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/HTML/The_hymns_and_carols_.htm

The Man in Black

So I've been reading this biography (ahem, the authorized biography) of John R. Cash. As I first heard of him, way back in the day, he was known to me as Johnny Cash, Gospel singer and relatively boring person. I know, I know, I know, Johnny Cash boring? As I knew him, he hung out with Billy Graham and sang the old hymns and uninteresting gospels. Without watching Walk The Line, I would never have taken an interest in this man and his wife. Well friends, I shall commence eating crow because this man is probably the furthest thing from uninteresting.

So far this is what I've gathered: He became a Christian at 12, was traumatized by his brother's tragic death, entered the Air Force, married Vivian because (and I think so) he loved her, started his music career (and drug/alcohol abuse), had an affair with June, divorced Vivian, cleaned up his act, rededicated his life, and married June.

Did you know that after his marriage to June and rededication to living a Christ-like life he spiraled back into drug abuse? This is a man who was baptized three times, including one time in the Jordan River, made a movie about Christ, wrote a book about Paul, attended church regularly, had a hit TV show that emphasized a life with Christ, and was revered by many influential Christians (i.e. Billy Graham and his wife) and leading politicians. This man had a plantation in Jamaica, the house of his dreams outside Nashville, and another house somewhere else that he liked as well (yes, stellar description of the latter, huh?!). He had that long sought-after son, a wife he loved/adored, and a career of which he could be proud. Yet even with all that he hit the drugs again! After knowing that it once nearly killed his career, let alone him, he couldn't say no. Once again though, the people around him pull together and with them and the recollection of what happened those many year ago, he made it out of that deadly mire. That's as far as I am now in the book, but I know there's a happy ending and I know his relationship with the Lord deepens even further.

Doesn't that say something about what the Lord desires in his followers? Think about it, Abraham, David, and Paul (they're the only ones that come to mind at the moment). They were not lukewarm! They were men who screwed up, and recovered, and screwed up, and recovered. They didn't just sit around and twiddle their thumbs, saying "well, if I do nothing then I won't risk doing the wrong thing and getting in trouble, so I'll just sit here and make no trouble." Hmm... interesting, because when you read Revelation 3:15-16, the Lord doesn't say he only wants those who are piously following him. "15 I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! 16 So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Neither hot nor cold. Far too many times I believe I am lukewarm, never willing to risk; I'm the worker who buried his master's money in the ground. Always afraid I'm going to step on someone's toes, always afraid I'm going to hurt someone, always afraid I'm going to do whatever it is I set out to do wrong. You would think that after all the teachings, all the books, all the experiences I've been through already I wouldn't worry about failing. When it comes to a crunch time, when in the midst of a situation that calls for my decision, I never hesitate though. Under pressure, I will make a decision that I consider wise. It's the lull before that causes me to question everything and frown any action on my part. Being lukewarm is discouraging! You stand there in that tepid area, thinking "ooo, but what if I get too cold... what if I get too hot?" Oh I hate that I let the "What if(s)?" influence my life! Stupid hesitant bane of my life! (right now, bane of my life is the hit phrase).

I wonder what Johnny would have done.

Rescuing my credit card from the Greeks!

So through the last week and a half, I've been making some fantastic progress regarding my ideas of marriage and children. It's been a quite enlightening, and quite frankly much needed, adventure through "The rapidly depleting misguided mindsets of one American lass."

For the past 5 years I have been against having children and getting married (although most definitely not in that order.) Who wants to get married and live with the same person for the rest of their life? Why not stay single and enjoy the independence of freedom? Freedom from battling it over who gets to go to whose family for whatever holiday. Freedom from having to worry about providing for someone else, freedom from having to be responsible to and for someone else, freedom from having someone else care about you, and freedom from waking up to the same person day in and day out. Regarding children: Freedom from changing diapers, freedom from feeding them, freedom from the screaming and yelling, freedom from the stress that comes with children, and most importantly, freedom from mini-vans!

Now as justifiable as those arguments are, they are not fair and they are completely heartless. Thanks to some good listeners and those whose mindsets are much more um...positive than mine, my heart has been changed and the vows I made regarding marriage and children are being broken and surrendered completely to my Lord. (I would give a longer explanation but too bad so sad, that part is much too tender and personal to share.) So in sum: No longer looking after self, but to what the Lord would place in my life and lead me to do. Absolutely delightful! I am so thankful to give up the idea that I am in charge of my heart and life goals.



And then I babysat a set of 2 year old twin girls and their 7 year old sister.



Oh, you didn't think that experience changed any of my newfound freedom, did you? It shall take a lot more than that for I to revert to my old mindsets. It did nothing to encourage me though, but nothing to deter me; just made me thankful that all things come with God's timing.

My story continues: I leave the house of horrors, I mean the sit, and continue on my merry way over to some friends' house to watch some Borat clips, make Christmas cards for children in hospitals, and recoup, I mean, enjoy the rest of my evening. Then after returning home I realize that my debit card is missing. O joy of joys. Not one to worry, I decide to wait until the morning to search for it. Then I get a call saying the family that I just sat for has found it. This means a return to Chaosville and at that point, I would have let them keep the card and waited the week until I could get a new one. Not a good idea because this means I am low on gas, sans cash, and sans means for getting cash. Stupid plastic bane of my life. However, I am not low enough on gas to miss out on a euchre/catch phrase game party. Besides, why worry about tonight when you can worry about it tomorrow? Of course that means that when one gets back to her apartment at 2 am, thoughts such as these invade her normally rational mind, "Hey, gas stations still take personal checks! Or I could give them my memorized card number (yes, I am that big of a dork and online customer)!"

At 10am the next morning, said rational falls flat. This means I do not get to go to church (my church) because gas stations neither take personal checks nor do they think one would seriously memorize their card number. And this means imminent return to that not so happy place. Did I mention my computer hates me? However, at the peak of my irritation, I realized that my attitude was not glorifying to the Lord whatsoever and I immediately repented for my not so nice thoughts. It is never a pleasant nor beneficial experience to have animosity in ones heart and it is not who I am, thank the Lord that I can choose to get out of my bad attitude. So after church with April, which was very poignant, I head on over and retrieve my card. It actually didn't go as bad as I had anticipated and in less than 35 seconds I was free for once and forever from that tribe of merciless cannibalistic headhunters. I mean loving and delightful children. And guess what was playing on the radio as I headed home? Christmas carols!! I love Christmas, I love this time of year, I love the camaraderie, the atmospheric change that comes with joyful times, and I love Christmas carols! So guess who belted out to "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus," and "Rocking around the Christmas Tree," the whole way home? That's right, yours truly. Good things come to those who delight themselves in the Lord. All you need is a change of heart. Then even the most loathsome of experiences becomes precious.

The Ugliness of Self

I've learned through the past years that I'm not the only person to go through certain situations/seasons. Still, in the midst of any given situation/season, I always think I am alone in having to go through said situation/season. Like today for instance.

Usually I am not far from the assumption that I'm a pretty good person. I've got a good personality, I'm laid-back just enough to not get angry instantly, when angry I forgive quickly, and I like to be organized, but never too organized. All things considered, I'm a fairly neat (as in pretty awesome) person to be around. Did I mention my sense of humor is delightful? Now I'm starting to sound like I'm stuck on myself, huh? Right you are. And so enters the reason for this story.

Today I got angry, quite angry, angry to the point where I wanted to slap someone. And for what reason, one might ask? Because I felt I had been wronged. Gone went my "forgive at all costs" attitude, out the door flew my "well, let's look at it from their point of view" mindset, and no where to be found was my desire to be Christ-like. I looked at my Bible and my devotional and flat-out said "No, I do not want to open you." I wanted vengance, I wanted retribution, and I wanted to dish it all out. Hah, isn't it so easy to be Christ-like when the only turbulence in your life is deciding what you want to do that day?

Looks like I'm not all I'm cracked up to be! Nothing like a good glimpse of my ugliness to put me right back on track. It's a love-hate moment when you get a big bold smack in the face of who you are and who you should be. Makes me think "Wow, and I have friends?" and "What, Christ loves me?" Were that I anyone but me! God's grace is unfathomable! He loves me! This screwed up, self-righteous, blundering, babbling, can-barely-do-anything-right, always second-guessing, most unworthy me.

Needless to say, I did not slap anyone, nor chew anyone out, nor make good in any way on my anger. Maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am..... lol.