This is the craziest video I have seen all week. Be careful, you might scream in surprise...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree
Yes, I did just use a Eurythmics song as a title, thanks for noticing.
Tangent before we start: Why are all the people in the new Snuggie commercial doing the Macarena? Did I miss the time-space continuum that the entire world apparently fell in to? Dis. Sturb. Bing.
Another tangent: I think that I have a very large brain that constantly needs to be stimulated. Currently, as I write, I'm drinking some delish Cafe DuMond Coffee (in a monster sized artsy mug, of course), listening to my iTunes (Mr. Big's "To Be With You"...an excellent ballad from the 90's), as well as watching "Real Housewives of New York" on mute. Do not judge me. Sometimes, watching other people's train wrecks can give you great perspective on your own life...and, let's be honest, make you feel better about yourself some times. Bless their hearts.
Speaking of blessing hearts, I had a fantastic conversation with a good friend of mine...a sister of mine actually. Her name is Kate and the following reflection is really from what God shared with her and she, in turn, shared with me. So Kate, thanks for your insight ahead of time...it's been rocking my heart the past few days...it might rock yours, my dear reader. And we're off:
The Annunciation is one of my favorite mysteries of the Rosary. You know the story, Mary, a sinless and most perfect virgin, is found to be preggers in quite a mysterious way by the Holy Spirit. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter one to be precise, Joseph finds out, and he kind of freaks out. Now, I try to think about what happened to Josephs heart when he found out the woman he was supposed to be with was pregnant in some crazy way that he couldn't really understand, and as hard as she tried, Mary probably couldn't articulate exactly what happened (hence the mystery of the rosary). Now Joseph, although scared, was a stand up guy and wanted to end the relationship quitely so that Mary wouldn't be persecuted to the fullest by the village people with their pitchforks and clubs. The Scripture continues to say that an angel appeared to Joseph (apparently guys named Joseph tend to have dreams, see Genesis 37 and following). He told Joseph what was up, to not be afraid, to marry Mary (ha, word play) and that the child was from the Holy Spirit and he should name him Jesus. He also quotes some old scripture that Joseph was familiar with and then, ol' Joe woke up and did as he was told.
There's a lot happening in these 8 verses. The thing that strikes me the most is the timing - it's horrible! I guess that goes to show that God has His own timing, eh? It's proven even in the timing of Jesus' conception. If you read the scripture and really think about it...there's not even a time stamp. I mean, the author doesn't share with the group about how long it took until Joseph had a dream. Can you imagine Mary's heartache? I mean, here's this young girl, and while yes, she was sinless, the man that was set aside for her was pretty much freaking out and seemingly MIA. Now, I know Mary is pretty much "IT" when it comes to being a disciple and saying "Fiat" to the Lord, but can you imagine her heartache? I can. I've been there. Maybe you have too, I hope to God you haven't, it's the most sucky pain. But in all seriousness, who knows how long Mary had to wait. All she had to cling to was the promise of God - that her "yes" had changed the world, and allowed for Love itself to become flesh, to be Incarnate for all of time, for salvation to be won with a simple word from a humble girl. This humble girl waited and trusted that God would take care of her and His only Son. She loved Joseph, sure. But more than that, she loved her Lord. And she trusted.
In His most perfect time, God worked on Joseph. He had the truth knocked into his brain and could say nothing but "Fiat" himself. I'm sure he felt a lot of pressure to raise and protect these precious treasures of God, but again, he also trusted. He loved the Lord even more than his beloved...which is how it's supposed to be.
Mary's Immaculate and Sorrowful Heart and her Son's Sacred and Eucharistic Heart beat as one, sharing the same blood which trusted and loved the Lord. Joseph, set aside for Mary, had one heck of a heart too, one which was scared by the Truth, then was able to recieve the love and peace of God, and trusted Him above all else, all the while, loving the most perfect woman and Son.
Both Mary and Joseph waited on the Lord and look what He did - salvation! Hello. McFly.
So have hope. Live and love like Mary and Joseph do.
A Scripture to close with....
"The law is fulfilled without fail, and perfect wisdom is found in the mouth of the faithful man. A man with training gains wide knowledge; a man of experience speaks sense. One never put to the proof knows little, whereas with travel a man adds to his resourcefulness. I have seen much in my travels, learned more than ever I could say. Often I was in danger of death, but by these attainments I was saved. Lively is the courage of those who fear the LORD, for they put their hope in their savior;He who fears the LORD is never alarmed, never afraid; for the LORD is his hope. Happy the soul that fears the LORD! In whom does he trust, and who is his support? The eyes of the LORD are upon those who love him; he is their mighty shield and strong support, A shelter from the heat, a shade from the noonday sun, a guard against stumbling, a help against falling. He buoys up the spirits, brings a sparkle to the eyes, gives health and life and blessing." - Sirach 34:8-17
Jezu Ufam Tobie
Tangent before we start: Why are all the people in the new Snuggie commercial doing the Macarena? Did I miss the time-space continuum that the entire world apparently fell in to? Dis. Sturb. Bing.
Another tangent: I think that I have a very large brain that constantly needs to be stimulated. Currently, as I write, I'm drinking some delish Cafe DuMond Coffee (in a monster sized artsy mug, of course), listening to my iTunes (Mr. Big's "To Be With You"...an excellent ballad from the 90's), as well as watching "Real Housewives of New York" on mute. Do not judge me. Sometimes, watching other people's train wrecks can give you great perspective on your own life...and, let's be honest, make you feel better about yourself some times. Bless their hearts.
Speaking of blessing hearts, I had a fantastic conversation with a good friend of mine...a sister of mine actually. Her name is Kate and the following reflection is really from what God shared with her and she, in turn, shared with me. So Kate, thanks for your insight ahead of time...it's been rocking my heart the past few days...it might rock yours, my dear reader. And we're off:
The Annunciation is one of my favorite mysteries of the Rosary. You know the story, Mary, a sinless and most perfect virgin, is found to be preggers in quite a mysterious way by the Holy Spirit. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter one to be precise, Joseph finds out, and he kind of freaks out. Now, I try to think about what happened to Josephs heart when he found out the woman he was supposed to be with was pregnant in some crazy way that he couldn't really understand, and as hard as she tried, Mary probably couldn't articulate exactly what happened (hence the mystery of the rosary). Now Joseph, although scared, was a stand up guy and wanted to end the relationship quitely so that Mary wouldn't be persecuted to the fullest by the village people with their pitchforks and clubs. The Scripture continues to say that an angel appeared to Joseph (apparently guys named Joseph tend to have dreams, see Genesis 37 and following). He told Joseph what was up, to not be afraid, to marry Mary (ha, word play) and that the child was from the Holy Spirit and he should name him Jesus. He also quotes some old scripture that Joseph was familiar with and then, ol' Joe woke up and did as he was told.
There's a lot happening in these 8 verses. The thing that strikes me the most is the timing - it's horrible! I guess that goes to show that God has His own timing, eh? It's proven even in the timing of Jesus' conception. If you read the scripture and really think about it...there's not even a time stamp. I mean, the author doesn't share with the group about how long it took until Joseph had a dream. Can you imagine Mary's heartache? I mean, here's this young girl, and while yes, she was sinless, the man that was set aside for her was pretty much freaking out and seemingly MIA. Now, I know Mary is pretty much "IT" when it comes to being a disciple and saying "Fiat" to the Lord, but can you imagine her heartache? I can. I've been there. Maybe you have too, I hope to God you haven't, it's the most sucky pain. But in all seriousness, who knows how long Mary had to wait. All she had to cling to was the promise of God - that her "yes" had changed the world, and allowed for Love itself to become flesh, to be Incarnate for all of time, for salvation to be won with a simple word from a humble girl. This humble girl waited and trusted that God would take care of her and His only Son. She loved Joseph, sure. But more than that, she loved her Lord. And she trusted.
In His most perfect time, God worked on Joseph. He had the truth knocked into his brain and could say nothing but "Fiat" himself. I'm sure he felt a lot of pressure to raise and protect these precious treasures of God, but again, he also trusted. He loved the Lord even more than his beloved...which is how it's supposed to be.
Mary's Immaculate and Sorrowful Heart and her Son's Sacred and Eucharistic Heart beat as one, sharing the same blood which trusted and loved the Lord. Joseph, set aside for Mary, had one heck of a heart too, one which was scared by the Truth, then was able to recieve the love and peace of God, and trusted Him above all else, all the while, loving the most perfect woman and Son.
Both Mary and Joseph waited on the Lord and look what He did - salvation! Hello. McFly.
So have hope. Live and love like Mary and Joseph do.
A Scripture to close with....
"The law is fulfilled without fail, and perfect wisdom is found in the mouth of the faithful man. A man with training gains wide knowledge; a man of experience speaks sense. One never put to the proof knows little, whereas with travel a man adds to his resourcefulness. I have seen much in my travels, learned more than ever I could say. Often I was in danger of death, but by these attainments I was saved. Lively is the courage of those who fear the LORD, for they put their hope in their savior;He who fears the LORD is never alarmed, never afraid; for the LORD is his hope. Happy the soul that fears the LORD! In whom does he trust, and who is his support? The eyes of the LORD are upon those who love him; he is their mighty shield and strong support, A shelter from the heat, a shade from the noonday sun, a guard against stumbling, a help against falling. He buoys up the spirits, brings a sparkle to the eyes, gives health and life and blessing." - Sirach 34:8-17
Jezu Ufam Tobie
Friday, August 20, 2010
A little reading does a body good
The readings for today are kicking my butt.
Have you ever known what you should be thinking or doing but there's something inside you that wants to revolt against that (even if it is good) just because you can revolt, throw a temper-tantrum, and be pissy? That's how I feel right about now.
I hope that I don't sound crazy, just human. So this morning, when I woke up, all I wanted to do was shut out people because I could. I wanted to be a rebel and turn away from people just so I could do it. No reason. Just being a pre-teen...even though I am far from it. I literally stood at the microwave and said outloud, "I don't trust you". I don't know who I was talking to...myself? Other people? God? Either way, I said it, and I wanted to be pissy and throw a fit.
I sat down to write and I had nothing. I've been having nothing for a while. Just feeling empty, you know what I mean?
The Lord spoke to Ezekial, and told him that he breathes new life into our dry bones. (Read the reading...it's highly imaginative and descriptive.) The bones themselves told the Lord that “Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost, and we are cut off." Man, I felt like those bones. I feel dried up with no hope and cut off from everything. But then, God says that He will make the bones come back to life and come home to Israel. As much as I didn't want to hear it, God was telling me that HE IS IN CONTROL. He is the Hope of Israel and my Hope too, even when I don't want to see it and want nothing more than to sit in my dry bones in a grave and whine. He still is Hope. He is Love, and that doesn't change.
The Psalm for today was pretty butt-kicking too. The refrain: "Give thanks to the Lord; his love is everlasting."
Boo-yah. I want to be a baby. I don't want to give thanks. I WANT to complain. I do complain, let's be honest. But the thing that gets me every single time is that "his love is everlasting". Ugh. It's true. Dangit! I may not feel it nor may I want to receive it, but it's freaking everlasting!!!!
The Gospel. Oh the Gospel. One of my favsies. The Great Commandment in Matthew:
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart,
with all your soul, and with all your mind.
This is the greatest and the first commandment.
The second is like it:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”
with all your soul, and with all your mind.
This is the greatest and the first commandment.
The second is like it:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”
FTL. For The Love. That Hope and that Love lies in Him. His Love is everlasting and it has the power to breathe new life. Into me...and you. Even when all I want to do is lie in my grave.
I am uncomfortable with these readings. It's uncomfortable because I know I need to allow life to be breathed into me and to accept this unending Love and give it back. Ugh. It's good and painful all at the same time. Faith is complex like that...but oh so simple at the same time.
Dear Church, thanks for organizing the readings for today through the Holy Spirit so that I can have my butt kicked. Love, Me.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Honesty is the best policy
Fun fact: I almost electrocuted myself plugging in the power cord for my computer. There's nothing like a near death experience to put things into focus. Or a blur. I guess it depends on how close to death you get.
I'm gonna be really honest. I have had an AWFUL week. You know when you think everything has gone wrong and there's no way it could get any worse...and then it does? Yeah, it's been one of those. Maybe you can relate. I really hope you can't, but let's face it - it's a human thing and you probably do.
I've felt a lot like Job this week, like everything is being taken away from me. I hate looking at God as a punisher; a big bully stepping on the little ol' ant that is me. I really do. My heart hurts. Heartache, not chest pains or anything. It's broke. Toe up from the flo' up. I feel abandoned. I feel not cared for by God and others. I haven't felt alone like this in...ever. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am in the thick of it. I don't want to pray. (Now I know a few days ago, I wrote about desolation and the need to pray MORE...but I don't want to. Again, being honest.) I'm afraid. I'm mad. I'm anxious and nauseous. I'm flat out miserable to say the least. I sound like a Debbie Downer or a Complainer McComplainerson. And I am. I just want to wallow and be a baby and be angry. The funny thing is, I'm afraid to be honest with God about it.
Now normally, I am a huge proponent of honesty - in relationships, with God, with blog, you know the drill. My friend Zach told me awhile ago that prayer should be two things - honest and consistent. I'm so scared to be honest. Why the heck am I afraid of being honest with God? He already knows my heart. It sounds stupid, and it is. I know this because when I finally got the guts to be honest with God today, I saw how stupid it was.
I went to Adoration (which of all the places to pray is probably the best since I forced myself to be face-to-face with the One I needed to be honest with. I couldn't avoid Him...He was looking right at me. To ignore Him would just be awkward).
So there I sat before the Lord, staring at Him for a bit, almost like a Old West stand off...who's gonna shoot first? Well, I shot. Big time. I told God how angry I was and how I was sick of being patient and how I hated thinking of Him as a parent in a toy store. You remember being a kid and your parents would take you to ToysRUS or Walmart or whatever and you'd find that one toy you wanted most of all. You'd say "Daddy, please can I have it?" And Dad would say, "Yes, but not today. Wait for your birthday/Christmas/Batmitzpha/Easter/Saturday/[insert day here]." But as you kept walking through the store, you'd bug dad more and more, "please can I have it?" And your dad would say, "If you keep asking me for it, you're not gonna get it!" I hate thinking of God like the Dad who would dangle the toy. I'm afraid that if I'm REALLY honest with God, complain about wanting something that He said I can have, that He'll refuse to give it to me because I'm hassling Him so much.
As I said this to God, and wrote it in my journal for safe keeping, I felt dumb. I told God that I felt dumb. I told Him that I knew I knew better - that He isn't like that. I had to ask Him to help me see the Truth, the Truth He has spoken so clearly before, that because I'm in this crap-hole of desolation, I can't see very well anymore. I realized, looking at what I had "yelled" in my journal to the Lord, that all the things I want and am walking up and down the aisle, tugging at His pant-leg for, He wants to give me...but first from Him.
You see, I realized today, that I don't have Him first. Big surprise, that's usually the case. I hate always realizing that because it makes me go back to the toy store analogy and I think if I don't get the whole "put God first above all else" thing, my life will be a formless wasteland. Again, not totally true, but it's how I think sometimes. It's twisted and dumb, but it's my fallen heart. My broken heart.
I can't pick up the pieces and neither can anybody else. I wish that were the case. I can see myself. I can see other people. But I can't see God who wants to love me. It's hard, Him being so intangible with His omnipotence and all. I know that I need to want to need Him. That was prayer at the end. "I want to want You. I want to WANT to want you."
It's scary. I hate it. I'm still miserable even after being honest - there was no quick fix whatsoever. I feel anxious and unsure. I want to walk through the toy store with Jesus and know that I can tell Him anything and that He loves me and wants to give me every good gift. "All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change." (James 1:17)
It's so hard to believe that sometimes, especially now; that I can be honest and hurting and that He doesn't stop loving - He loves all the more. (To be honest, I'm in tears writing all of this. Sidenote, crying by yourself is NOT fun.) Oh, how I don't want to be patient, how I want things NOW, and how I want God's word to be fulfilled in my heart and in my life so that I can be with Him (and want to want to be with Him) eternally.
My friend Josh told me today (and Rachel, too) that God takes you down into what seems like the abyss, to bring you back to Him. God uses the times when we feel like we have nothing so that we can see that He is everything. I tell people this all the time and, yet again, here I sit, prepared to feast on my own words, to chow them down and hopefully keep them down.
If you see me or talk to me, please remind me that His Word never returns void, no matter the circumstances. He is God and does what He says He will. I'll remind you of it too, it's just good to be reminded of that kind of thing. Let the Lord love you honestly...I'll be trying to do the same.
I'm gonna be really honest. I have had an AWFUL week. You know when you think everything has gone wrong and there's no way it could get any worse...and then it does? Yeah, it's been one of those. Maybe you can relate. I really hope you can't, but let's face it - it's a human thing and you probably do.
I've felt a lot like Job this week, like everything is being taken away from me. I hate looking at God as a punisher; a big bully stepping on the little ol' ant that is me. I really do. My heart hurts. Heartache, not chest pains or anything. It's broke. Toe up from the flo' up. I feel abandoned. I feel not cared for by God and others. I haven't felt alone like this in...ever. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am in the thick of it. I don't want to pray. (Now I know a few days ago, I wrote about desolation and the need to pray MORE...but I don't want to. Again, being honest.) I'm afraid. I'm mad. I'm anxious and nauseous. I'm flat out miserable to say the least. I sound like a Debbie Downer or a Complainer McComplainerson. And I am. I just want to wallow and be a baby and be angry. The funny thing is, I'm afraid to be honest with God about it.
Now normally, I am a huge proponent of honesty - in relationships, with God, with blog, you know the drill. My friend Zach told me awhile ago that prayer should be two things - honest and consistent. I'm so scared to be honest. Why the heck am I afraid of being honest with God? He already knows my heart. It sounds stupid, and it is. I know this because when I finally got the guts to be honest with God today, I saw how stupid it was.
I went to Adoration (which of all the places to pray is probably the best since I forced myself to be face-to-face with the One I needed to be honest with. I couldn't avoid Him...He was looking right at me. To ignore Him would just be awkward).
So there I sat before the Lord, staring at Him for a bit, almost like a Old West stand off...who's gonna shoot first? Well, I shot. Big time. I told God how angry I was and how I was sick of being patient and how I hated thinking of Him as a parent in a toy store. You remember being a kid and your parents would take you to ToysRUS or Walmart or whatever and you'd find that one toy you wanted most of all. You'd say "Daddy, please can I have it?" And Dad would say, "Yes, but not today. Wait for your birthday/Christmas/Batmitzpha/Easter/Saturday/[insert day here]." But as you kept walking through the store, you'd bug dad more and more, "please can I have it?" And your dad would say, "If you keep asking me for it, you're not gonna get it!" I hate thinking of God like the Dad who would dangle the toy. I'm afraid that if I'm REALLY honest with God, complain about wanting something that He said I can have, that He'll refuse to give it to me because I'm hassling Him so much.
As I said this to God, and wrote it in my journal for safe keeping, I felt dumb. I told God that I felt dumb. I told Him that I knew I knew better - that He isn't like that. I had to ask Him to help me see the Truth, the Truth He has spoken so clearly before, that because I'm in this crap-hole of desolation, I can't see very well anymore. I realized, looking at what I had "yelled" in my journal to the Lord, that all the things I want and am walking up and down the aisle, tugging at His pant-leg for, He wants to give me...but first from Him.
You see, I realized today, that I don't have Him first. Big surprise, that's usually the case. I hate always realizing that because it makes me go back to the toy store analogy and I think if I don't get the whole "put God first above all else" thing, my life will be a formless wasteland. Again, not totally true, but it's how I think sometimes. It's twisted and dumb, but it's my fallen heart. My broken heart.
I can't pick up the pieces and neither can anybody else. I wish that were the case. I can see myself. I can see other people. But I can't see God who wants to love me. It's hard, Him being so intangible with His omnipotence and all. I know that I need to want to need Him. That was prayer at the end. "I want to want You. I want to WANT to want you."
It's scary. I hate it. I'm still miserable even after being honest - there was no quick fix whatsoever. I feel anxious and unsure. I want to walk through the toy store with Jesus and know that I can tell Him anything and that He loves me and wants to give me every good gift. "All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change." (James 1:17)
It's so hard to believe that sometimes, especially now; that I can be honest and hurting and that He doesn't stop loving - He loves all the more. (To be honest, I'm in tears writing all of this. Sidenote, crying by yourself is NOT fun.) Oh, how I don't want to be patient, how I want things NOW, and how I want God's word to be fulfilled in my heart and in my life so that I can be with Him (and want to want to be with Him) eternally.
My friend Josh told me today (and Rachel, too) that God takes you down into what seems like the abyss, to bring you back to Him. God uses the times when we feel like we have nothing so that we can see that He is everything. I tell people this all the time and, yet again, here I sit, prepared to feast on my own words, to chow them down and hopefully keep them down.
If you see me or talk to me, please remind me that His Word never returns void, no matter the circumstances. He is God and does what He says He will. I'll remind you of it too, it's just good to be reminded of that kind of thing. Let the Lord love you honestly...I'll be trying to do the same.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Bear
One of my favorite feelings:
Getting into a bed with ultra-fresh sheets.
One of my pet peeves:
Getting the last 4 squares of TP on a roll when I really like to have a little more than that.
As you may be able to guess, I just went to the loo and am currently sitting in my bed with super clean sheets. I love that feeling, don't you? It's classy, never goes out of style and it's comfortable...kind of like a great white V-neck tee. (I totally love those too. I have way too many. But then again, they're classy, never go out of style and are comfortable. What's not to love about that?) I love being in bed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total lazy bum, but it's so dang comfy! I love being a tinge chilled so that I can bundle up under all my blankets and such. Snuggle with my bear, who's name is Bear, btw.
Bear is probably my most prized possession, more so than this here lap top. Or even my passport. I could always get a new one of those. But Bear...well, he's for keeps.
I've had Bear for, oh, going on 14 years this December. He was a gift from my mom when I was 12. You see, the day after Christmas, I had to have ear surgery. When I was a wee little chick-a-dee, I had tubes put in my ears which we supposed to fall out within a year. They didn't. One fell out a few years after the fact. The other (good ol' lefty) vacated my ear drum around the age of twelve...leaving a hole behind. He failed at his job. Epically. The doctors said it was a miracle I could hear at all. (Apparently the hole was, like, a millimeter above where I would have been completely deaf. Granted, I am a tad tone deaf, but you win some, you lose some, right?) So, my brilliant father scheduled my surgery during Christmas break so I wouldn't have to miss school (how responsible) and the only available date was the crack of dawn (before God is even ready to start His day) on the 26th. Barf. Literally, I barfed after surgery. Anesthesia is potent in my body.
Anyway, when I came to, there was Bear, resting comfortably in my arms with the same bandage around his head that was around mine. It was love at first consciousness.
Bear has been with me through thick and thin. I realize that age twelve is a tid bit old to become attached to a stuffed animal. I also realize I'm probably too old to still sleep with one. But, I don't care. At all. He fits perfectly under my arm in a nice little head lock. He went with me across the ocean when I studied abroad. When I travel every summer, no matter where I go, Bear is smashed into my suitcase to be my companion.
Poor Bear has been held outside of car windows flying through the air at 70 mph (not with my permission), hung in a shower by a noose, and punched in the face by many silly boys. He has stared at me his deep eyes while I have prayed, cried and laughed. He has a certain crooked smile now from being squished so much. He's been through a lot. I kind of love him...the healthy way that one can "love" a, inanimate object.
The way Bear is faithful shows me in a strange way that God is faithful. I know it's a stretch, but stick with me. Bear stays with me through thick and thin. He doesn't speak (always...wink). He fits a special place in my heart. He has suffered greatly for me and while he may seem to others to be a little worn and tired, I know that he is always the same.
Please don't think that I'm heretically comparing my teddy bear to the Lord. The Lord is perfect, and Bear has also almost been decapitated once or twice and quickly sewn back into prime form. My God, your God, is perfect. He is steady. He is the light. He brings comfort. He may be silent sometimes, but He is always there with loving eyes and a Love so intense for us, so ferocious, so gentle, so healing, that He willingly suffers when we (especially me) want to run from the Love. He keeps on a'comin.
God is there in the midst of it all. In the desolation, in the joys, in the little victories, and everywhere in between, He stays true. He is Truth. And Truth is Truth. It cannot change. If God were to stop Loving...well He wouldn't be who He says He is...which is I AM.
Bear is my snugly little pal. God is snugly when that is what I need, but He is also a virtue-builder...a carpenter for my heart, if you will. And as much as I fail, epically, at letting Him build my life, I always find myself resting in HIS arms, knowing that it's there that I am loved.
Getting into a bed with ultra-fresh sheets.
One of my pet peeves:
Getting the last 4 squares of TP on a roll when I really like to have a little more than that.
As you may be able to guess, I just went to the loo and am currently sitting in my bed with super clean sheets. I love that feeling, don't you? It's classy, never goes out of style and it's comfortable...kind of like a great white V-neck tee. (I totally love those too. I have way too many. But then again, they're classy, never go out of style and are comfortable. What's not to love about that?) I love being in bed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a total lazy bum, but it's so dang comfy! I love being a tinge chilled so that I can bundle up under all my blankets and such. Snuggle with my bear, who's name is Bear, btw.
Bear is probably my most prized possession, more so than this here lap top. Or even my passport. I could always get a new one of those. But Bear...well, he's for keeps.
I've had Bear for, oh, going on 14 years this December. He was a gift from my mom when I was 12. You see, the day after Christmas, I had to have ear surgery. When I was a wee little chick-a-dee, I had tubes put in my ears which we supposed to fall out within a year. They didn't. One fell out a few years after the fact. The other (good ol' lefty) vacated my ear drum around the age of twelve...leaving a hole behind. He failed at his job. Epically. The doctors said it was a miracle I could hear at all. (Apparently the hole was, like, a millimeter above where I would have been completely deaf. Granted, I am a tad tone deaf, but you win some, you lose some, right?) So, my brilliant father scheduled my surgery during Christmas break so I wouldn't have to miss school (how responsible) and the only available date was the crack of dawn (before God is even ready to start His day) on the 26th. Barf. Literally, I barfed after surgery. Anesthesia is potent in my body.
Anyway, when I came to, there was Bear, resting comfortably in my arms with the same bandage around his head that was around mine. It was love at first consciousness.
Bear has been with me through thick and thin. I realize that age twelve is a tid bit old to become attached to a stuffed animal. I also realize I'm probably too old to still sleep with one. But, I don't care. At all. He fits perfectly under my arm in a nice little head lock. He went with me across the ocean when I studied abroad. When I travel every summer, no matter where I go, Bear is smashed into my suitcase to be my companion.
Poor Bear has been held outside of car windows flying through the air at 70 mph (not with my permission), hung in a shower by a noose, and punched in the face by many silly boys. He has stared at me his deep eyes while I have prayed, cried and laughed. He has a certain crooked smile now from being squished so much. He's been through a lot. I kind of love him...the healthy way that one can "love" a, inanimate object.
The way Bear is faithful shows me in a strange way that God is faithful. I know it's a stretch, but stick with me. Bear stays with me through thick and thin. He doesn't speak (always...wink). He fits a special place in my heart. He has suffered greatly for me and while he may seem to others to be a little worn and tired, I know that he is always the same.
Please don't think that I'm heretically comparing my teddy bear to the Lord. The Lord is perfect, and Bear has also almost been decapitated once or twice and quickly sewn back into prime form. My God, your God, is perfect. He is steady. He is the light. He brings comfort. He may be silent sometimes, but He is always there with loving eyes and a Love so intense for us, so ferocious, so gentle, so healing, that He willingly suffers when we (especially me) want to run from the Love. He keeps on a'comin.
God is there in the midst of it all. In the desolation, in the joys, in the little victories, and everywhere in between, He stays true. He is Truth. And Truth is Truth. It cannot change. If God were to stop Loving...well He wouldn't be who He says He is...which is I AM.
Bear is my snugly little pal. God is snugly when that is what I need, but He is also a virtue-builder...a carpenter for my heart, if you will. And as much as I fail, epically, at letting Him build my life, I always find myself resting in HIS arms, knowing that it's there that I am loved.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tanning is gold
*I tried to post the following last night but there was some error. I am too lazy to correct the tenses. Oops.*
Random fact: Right before I sat down to write this, I tried to do a back flip off the couch. I failed. Epically. My neck hurts. That was dumb.
Today, the weather in Houston was “Africa Hot”. It was the choice of myself and two of my friends to sit poolside for the afternoon…in the heat of the day. I lubed up with some awesome sunscreen (yes mom, I used sunscreen) that contained a great bronzer, and now I am pretty golden brown.
I love being tan. It’s not a superficial thing. (Okay, it might be a little bit, let’s call a spade a spade…) I just love the feeling of being tan. I feel healthier. I assume I look better. There’s a very apparent glow about me that comes not anything having to do with hormones, and I like it. I could sit by the water slash in the water on something that floats all the livelong day and be pretty content.
(Side note: I could also live in my swimsuit. It’s not a nudist thing or anything, it just feels good and free. I’m pretty sure that if you were to ask my mother what I was like as a child, I probably went through a phase in which I pranced around in a Minnie Mouse swimsuit and red cowgirl boots for a period of time. That was probably also around the time my parents let me dress myself – a poor choice they made which still at times has ramifications, like now. I don’t think I look awesome of anything in a swim suit, I just like feeling free and comfortable. So sue me. Okay, please don’t…) Back to tanning...
I thought about being tan as I drove my happy butt home to get ready for Mass…
When I went to Mass this evening, I was a tad bit vain and I noticed how much darker I was a few hours later. Okay, I’ll admit, I was straight up distracted because I was so giddy with the tan-ness. But something in the music tonight brought me back in to focus. A lot of the songs were about shining. And light. And love. Some of my fav things, to be quite honest. Favies. As I listened to the readings for the Sunday and the awesome homily by Father Troy, it hit me in a newer way – as much as I was happy being tan, I was changed. I like being tan because I look different. My body is physically changed when I’m tan. The melanin in my skin does a crazy wack-a-do thing and I appear different. Also, there’s an increase of Vitamin D (which, fun fact was discovered in the early 1900s to cure rickets) and there’s a connection between mood and sun exposure. People in warmer and sunnier climates are typically happier and healthier – thanks to that boost of Vitamin D and the good ol’ big yellow thing in the sky. When you are in the sun, it changes you.
You’re changed when you’re in the Son. (I know, I know…that sounds totally cliché. But things are cliché usually because they are true. They’re true and they get repeated and hence become cliché…you get the idea.) When we receive the Love of the Father, thanks to the Son, brought to you with no commercial interruptions by the Holy Spirit, we are transformed. Love transforms everything.
Now as I look awesomely “girl-next-door” tan (that’s for you Josh), and am physically different now, so too am I changed by the Love of Christ in my own heart. It starts beneath the surface. When you tan in the sun, it all begins in the lower layers of your epidermis (hello, McFly, you’re epidermis is showing – ps, that’s your skin) and melanin is released by melanocytes. (What? Are surprised? I know stuff. I had to take Anatomy and Physiology for a year in college. I know the body. I even had to dissect a cat. Different story for a different day.) Tanning starts beneath. So does love. God loves us and we in turn are changed and love Him. We may even shine that love to others. And God who is faithful (even when we are not) keeps loving us and through us. But first and foremost, loving us. You+Me=Us. I know my calculus.
Get out of your own way. Receive God’s ferocious and burning love. Let it transform you. Change you. Tan you. A side effect of it all will be a certain glow – knowing that you are loved and in turn you can love. God, your neighbor, yourself. Take some time to bask in the rays…in both senses of the word. Double entendre. Wordplay. Pun. True. Cliché, but true.
Random fact: Right before I sat down to write this, I tried to do a back flip off the couch. I failed. Epically. My neck hurts. That was dumb.
Today, the weather in Houston was “Africa Hot”. It was the choice of myself and two of my friends to sit poolside for the afternoon…in the heat of the day. I lubed up with some awesome sunscreen (yes mom, I used sunscreen) that contained a great bronzer, and now I am pretty golden brown.
I love being tan. It’s not a superficial thing. (Okay, it might be a little bit, let’s call a spade a spade…) I just love the feeling of being tan. I feel healthier. I assume I look better. There’s a very apparent glow about me that comes not anything having to do with hormones, and I like it. I could sit by the water slash in the water on something that floats all the livelong day and be pretty content.
(Side note: I could also live in my swimsuit. It’s not a nudist thing or anything, it just feels good and free. I’m pretty sure that if you were to ask my mother what I was like as a child, I probably went through a phase in which I pranced around in a Minnie Mouse swimsuit and red cowgirl boots for a period of time. That was probably also around the time my parents let me dress myself – a poor choice they made which still at times has ramifications, like now. I don’t think I look awesome of anything in a swim suit, I just like feeling free and comfortable. So sue me. Okay, please don’t…) Back to tanning...
I thought about being tan as I drove my happy butt home to get ready for Mass…
When I went to Mass this evening, I was a tad bit vain and I noticed how much darker I was a few hours later. Okay, I’ll admit, I was straight up distracted because I was so giddy with the tan-ness. But something in the music tonight brought me back in to focus. A lot of the songs were about shining. And light. And love. Some of my fav things, to be quite honest. Favies. As I listened to the readings for the Sunday and the awesome homily by Father Troy, it hit me in a newer way – as much as I was happy being tan, I was changed. I like being tan because I look different. My body is physically changed when I’m tan. The melanin in my skin does a crazy wack-a-do thing and I appear different. Also, there’s an increase of Vitamin D (which, fun fact was discovered in the early 1900s to cure rickets) and there’s a connection between mood and sun exposure. People in warmer and sunnier climates are typically happier and healthier – thanks to that boost of Vitamin D and the good ol’ big yellow thing in the sky. When you are in the sun, it changes you.
You’re changed when you’re in the Son. (I know, I know…that sounds totally cliché. But things are cliché usually because they are true. They’re true and they get repeated and hence become cliché…you get the idea.) When we receive the Love of the Father, thanks to the Son, brought to you with no commercial interruptions by the Holy Spirit, we are transformed. Love transforms everything.
Now as I look awesomely “girl-next-door” tan (that’s for you Josh), and am physically different now, so too am I changed by the Love of Christ in my own heart. It starts beneath the surface. When you tan in the sun, it all begins in the lower layers of your epidermis (hello, McFly, you’re epidermis is showing – ps, that’s your skin) and melanin is released by melanocytes. (What? Are surprised? I know stuff. I had to take Anatomy and Physiology for a year in college. I know the body. I even had to dissect a cat. Different story for a different day.) Tanning starts beneath. So does love. God loves us and we in turn are changed and love Him. We may even shine that love to others. And God who is faithful (even when we are not) keeps loving us and through us. But first and foremost, loving us. You+Me=Us. I know my calculus.
Get out of your own way. Receive God’s ferocious and burning love. Let it transform you. Change you. Tan you. A side effect of it all will be a certain glow – knowing that you are loved and in turn you can love. God, your neighbor, yourself. Take some time to bask in the rays…in both senses of the word. Double entendre. Wordplay. Pun. True. Cliché, but true.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
From First Class to the Last Row
Before I even get started...I have a book recommendation:
Blue Like Jazz
This book is awesome. Donald Miller is a fantastic writer with a voice (which I find similar to mine, which is comforting and familiar, and I therefore really relate to). He writes short chapters about little encounters with the Person of Christ, making Him more tangible and real. His stories are normal and part of the everyday, which "Listen in the Loo" is all about. So thank you, Donald Miller for your book. Buy it. Check it out at your library. Borrow it from a friend. Read it.
Anywho, down to business.
It has been quite some time since I've written. Oops. I have a good excuse though. Sort of...
I've been traveling for about a month with a certain program associated with a certain youth conference. It has been quite the month. I think I got on about 9 flights within a 3 week period. I was airlined out, to say the least. I have realized that I love certain airlines...and loathe others. Funny story:
While I was sitting next to the loo, it hit me, that I hadn't "heard" God speak to me in over a month. In all of the times that I had gone into the "sacred silence" of the bathroom, I got nothing. I have been in a time of desolation for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I'm no mystic or anything. But as you may have ready, I hear God speak to my heart in simple yet profound ways. Now...I've got nothing. I'm in what is referred to in the spiritual life as a time of desolation. (Check out the Catechism of the Catholic Church especially paragraph 2731.) There has been a lot of God speaking to me in my life - but now, I'm just kinda.....eh. Maybe you know what I'm talking about, feeling like you're all alone and God has turned His back on you. That's mos def not the case, but it feels like that sometimes. I could go on and on about this feeling of desolation, but I won't. I'm gonna go back to the hope - the consolation.
While I was in Rhode Island a couple weeks ago, I got the opportunity to go to confession with an awesome priest named Fr. Matt. He was so cool....he had Reef flip-flops with bottle openers on the bottom. Too legit to quit. Anyway, one thing he told me was that in times of desolation, you have to cling on to and go back to the consolation...when God was speaking very loud and clear. I know that I knew that in my head, but when he said it, it went straight down, smack dab in the middle of my heart. Just because I couldn't hear God didn't mean He wasn't with me or that His truth was not real. It was all the more real. His Word goes out and doesn't return void. God speaks that through His prophet Isaiah: "So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it." (Isaiah 55:11). While I feel like I've been walking in a long hallway towards a door and now the lights have been shut off on me....it doesn't mean the door moved. I have to keep walking and not change directions. It's croosh (that's crucial) for us, when we feel as if we're in a time of desolation, to keep walking...not to stop praying of turn away from God, but to PRAY MORE, DON'T CHANGE DIRECTIONS, and BE PATIENT.
Geesh, that is hard for me. Clearly, from my experience on the plane getting kicked to the last row from the first, I threw a mini-fit to myself. But I go back time and time again to God's Word, which is always accomplished, and to the truth Fr. Matt spoke to me, and that of the people who know my heart best and I press on, sometimes begrudgingly, but I keep on. I suck at praying during desolation. It seems easier to not. But I have to make myself - which is hard because I'm not very self-motivated. I need my butt kicked by people sometimes. (Thank you Kristin, Fr. Dan, Ashley, Derek, Connor, Melea, and Stephen - you have done it oh-so-well.)
Just because I don't hear God in the bathroom right now, doesn't mean He's gone. He's still there - my will is being tested and strengthened and I'm learning (gulp) humility and becoming (hopefully) more faithful. You should too.
"Lemon out!"
(For your enjoyment and laughter because I love 30 Rock, click on it)...
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