Day 7 - "He lives in the Emerald City, and that's a long journey from here"

I slept until 9 am. Glorious.

I woke up in a dream world, after having awakened in one of the most beautiful cities in America - Savannah, Georgia. If you've never been, you should go.

Leaving Peachtree City yesterday allowed me to drive for about 5 hours going southeast across Georgia...pretty much downhill all the way. Those 5 hours were great. I really do love driving, and am tolerating being alone in the car. Those 5 hours weren't filled with intense dialogue with Jesus. I listened to the Wizard of Oz on an audiobook.

I love that story. Clearly. I've loved it for a long time. I've owned a few pairs of ruby slippers. (The photo on the right is of my current pair.) I wrote a Theology of the Wizard of Oz, called "Ozology". I even had to write a huge paper in college about an epic story (sparing the Iliad and the Odyssey, or course) and I chose the Wizard of Oz. Clearly, I am a fan.

Listening to the story as I drove past thousands and thousands of the greenest trees, I felt like I was en route to the Emerald City. In the story, when Dorothy comes up against the Lion (who tries to hurt poor Toto), her heart swells with love and flies to the defense of Toto, despite her fear of the beast. She jumps into action and swats the Lion away and calls him a coward for trying to hurt little Toto. Dorothy is brave, and quite honestly, I have felt brave these past few days...mainly because my mom said she couldn't believe I was doing this and that she'd never be brave enough to. AND, to make my life more and more like Dorothy's, I noticed I was on a yellow brick road! Okay, not a literal one, but have you ever noticed that the sides of highways have that thick yellow line painted on them?!? Maybe you have and you think "Becca, seriously, everyone know that...you're not a character from a storybook" but I felt transported into a fairy tale epic. I feel like I'm living in an epic. I mean, we all are, but it hit me in a new way.

My "Wizard of Oz" is not a poser though. He doesn't change. He doesn't hide behind a curtain. He is who He says He is. He can do all He says He can, with no catches or hidden fine print. And I know that I am safe from all harm through my own "kiss on the forehead from the Good Witch of the North that doesn't allow anyone to hurt me", aka, the indelible mark I received at Baptism and Confirmation.

I could go on and on, but I will not. I've got an adventure to live today in Savannah....it looks like my very own Oz. Seriously, it's so green here. It's colorful and filled with newness. And it makes me feel like anything is possible. That sounds so cliche, huh? Oh well. Adventure is meant to be lived and THEN written about, not the other way around. Hasta luego mis amigos.

Day 6 - "If the Wizard is a Wizard who will serve..."

Currently as I write, I'm sitting in a Starbucks (yes, I'm giving into "the man") in Peachtree City, Georgia - home of the world famous Stephen Lenahan. I have heard for some years of the mysterious "city of the peach trees"and in all honesty I didn't believe such a place existed.

Allow me to explain.

Peachtree City is a golf cart town....yes, they ride golf carts. Everywhere. There are paths for the carts. (Is it carts or karts? I think "karts" is reserved for the "go" kind.) There are tunnels that go under the main roads. In fact, it's faster to get from my friend Michael's apartment to McDonalds via golf c(k)art than automobile...at least he says it is. It is a sprawling metropolis of a planned community. Boggles my mind. Consider me boggled.

Last night I stayed with Michael, his wife Crystal and their children Noah and Ruth. Totes presh. When I woke up this morning, Noah gave me $10. Okay, so it was fake money, but what a way to wake up, right? If only I could get paid to wake up in the morning....

Monday was filled with a lot of thoughts of the world. That sounds existential, I know. Stay with me. I left NOLA at 8:30, stopped in Pascagoula (yes that's a real place) and saw my sister Christie, my contemporary hero of social justice in action. She was randomly in town doing a fundraiser for Kenya. Yeah, small world. I trekked on to Montgomery, AL. (As a side note, Alabama is one of the most beautiful places I've ever driven through. Check it out if you have the opportunity. And...."trekked" looks wrong and reminds me of Star Trek.) In Montgomery, I parked at St. Joseph's Catholic Church downtown and walked for a bit.

You see, I love history, and the south is full of it. I remember being a junior in High School, and my US History teacher, Mr. Smith (real name, not an alias...as far as I know) got us all fired up for history. We had to make a music video to a civil rights song. My 3 girl friends and one guy, Suraag (again, real name, not an alias....he's from India) did "Respect" by Aretha Franklin - not so much civil rights, as equal respect for women and as an aside, it was funny to have Suraag dress up in a slinky dress. Anyway, the point is, I love history, stats, civil rights movement, etc.

Montgomery, AL is home to the Civil Rights Monument. See photo below.

It marks the dates of major movements in the 50s-70s. I felt so nostalgic and as if I was on holy ground. It's where Rosa Parks was arrested for not giving up her seat on a bus. MLK Jr led a march in Montgomery protesting the Jim Crow laws to petition free voter registration. Crazy things happened in this town and I was transported back in time to pay tribute to those who fought for freedom.

I felt very American on Monday, and proud to be. (Thank God for inspiring the First Amendment, otherwise, I wouldn't be able to write about the Faith.) Because of MLK Jr, I was able to grow up in the multicultural city of Houston, and was able to know my friend Suraag. I was able to be exposed to a world of cultures in the tiny microcosm of Houston. I'm free today because of people who fought for my freedom. We are all free because of Christ. He paid the highest price and we are asked to do likewise for our neighbor, which is what MLK Jr did. Service in love. Those who have are to give to those who do not. Jesus did it. MLK Jr did it. I should do it.

This Lent has been, for me, a lot about letting God love me and actually loving Him in a more authentic way. Appreciating Him. Giving Him my heart. That scares the hell out of me sometimes. But flashing back to the time of Rosa Parks and MLK Jr, I am reminded of the beauty of bold abandonment and total giving of yourself.

"So if a son frees you, then you will truly be free." - John 8:36

We are free to love. And not just love God and abandon ourselves to His Will, but we are free to love our neighbor and defend him at all costs....to lay down our lives for Love.

Freedom and Love go hand in hand. Serve those you meet with Love today.

Day 5 - “That's the scary part. I didn't know if I should smile, crack up, scream or run.”

This is how I feel.

Yesterday was rough. Day five.....who knew, it'd be so hard? It's only the fifth day?....Lord almighty. Do I smile, crack up, scream or run? Screaming feels good and is fun...and releases toxins. Try it in the car today.

I found myself in the Adoration Chapel yesterday afternoon - a cute little chapel by the way. There were only 6 chairs - 6 comfy chairs! - in this small intimate building with a Monstrance so close to me, I actually felt kind of uncomfortable. Please don't judge me.

I sat and prayed my Rosary and, of course, was super distracted. It always happens - every little thing pops in my head and every little thing distracts me in a room. I try to pray for whatever pops in my prayer, but nonetheless, I'm thinking about a million things. I even noticed that I was pretty much rushing through the Rosary....like I was running from praying it. No reason. I just caught myself doing it and feeling that way. I was kind of restless. This wasn't fun anymore.

As I sped up my words faster than humanly possible, I wondered why I felt so restless....and it hit me.

This is hard. Not praying the Rosary at lightning speed. Not sitting in the chapel. Not even the distractions.

This trip is hard.

I wondered why on earth is this so hard? I mean, God asked me to do it, right? "We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28) If this was what God called "my purpose" at this point, then why the heck was it sucking so much? Was I not loving God? (I mean, that's what I'm working on right now, but really?

And then it hit me. Again. Correction, God hit me again. Not in an abusive way. In a "Hey, stupid, what are you doing?" kinda way.

Just because God asks you to do something, doesn't mean it's going to be easy. In fact, it probably won't be easy.

Look at Scripture.

Abraham is called to sacrifice his only son after God promises that his descendents will be as numerous as the stars of the sky, taking away "his only shot" at procreation. - Not easy.

Jacob is enslaved to Laban for 14 years so he can marry the right woman for him and God eventually brings about Joseph (of the technicolor dream coat fame) - Not easy.

The prophets were prophets when no one wanted to listen. - Not easy.

Mary found out she was having God's Son. Joseph freaked out and then an angel appeared in a dream to tell him "what was up". They got married and raised the Lord of the Universe. - Not easy.

Jesus asked that His Father take "this cup" from Him if it be His Will, but accepted it and gave everything on the Cross and died. - Literally, not easy.

All things worked for good.

Just because God calls you to something doesn't mean it's going to be a cake walk. Or even fun all the time. But (and this is a biiiiigggggg but, like, Sir Mix-A-Lot big).....He never gives us anything we can't handle OR He can't bring us through.

So here we go, Big Guy. Bring me through.

I don't have a video today, but Emilio Estevez does. Let's take a trip to the Camino, shall we?

A great prayer...

The following prayer is taken from another blogger, Kristen Lippert-Martin

Check her out, especially if you are trying to write ANYTHING at all 

 

A Writer’s Prayer

God grant me the serenity to sit my twitchy rear-end

down in that chair once again

and make that cursor move
across the computer screen,

even if the only way I can do so

is to repeatedly apply my forehead

to the keyboard like a chicken

pecking the ground for meal worms. 

Lord, please help me to accept the things
that cannot be changed,

like the fact that the entire premise of my next book --

the one I'm super excited about –

causes most people to either shrug with indifference

or say, “Ooooh-kaaay. Sounds, you know, interesting.

Good luck with that.”

Give me the courage to change those things
that should be changed,

even though I have damn well changed them enough,

and I don’t want to change them again.

No, I don’t.
I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.

La-La-La-La-La…I’m not listening.

I’m not listening to that little voice of doom in my head

(and my gut better shut up too if it knows what’s good for it).

Help me to see the difference between something
that’s actually funny and
 lame jokes predicated on esoteric references
to “BJ and The Bear.”

And when I am in the darkest hour of Querying,

walk with me, Lord, and be my rock and my shield.

Also, this would be one of those times

when I could use some serious smiting of my enemies.

May I suggest one of those plague things You do so well?

Or a flood.

 Whatever You’re in the mood for. Feel free to improvise,

 but be sure to make it extra, you know, vengeful,

since vengeance is exclusively Your thing

and not for me to indulge in

 no matter how much I might really, really want to.

Lord, grant me some more of that serenity

so that I might not freak out at my agent

 when she tells me that I need to revise
based on feedback.

Again.

Because You of all people realize

that even if that poor woman were getting
an 85% commission on the sale of my work,

it wouldn’t be enough to compensate her

 for having to listen to all my whining.

And lo, though I may walk

through the valley of the shadow of rejection --

which incidentally is a long-ass
and extremely shadowy valley

and not to complain but, geez, WTF?

How about the occasional peak now and again

just to break up the scenery a bit

(just something to think about

-- even You aren’t immune to suggestions for improvement) –

Yes, O Lord, be at my side during these desolate hours

and try not to take it personally when I lash out

at You, the world in general, and all those
who don’t “get me.”

And finally, Lord, grant me the wisdom to understand 

why it is that I do this writing thing,

 because there must be a damn good reason

or else I wouldn’t keep sitting here,

 day after day,

watching that little cursor winking at me

 like it’s in on some big cosmic joke

that I don’t know about.

 Because it’s not all one big joke, right?

Hello?

Anybody there?

Day 3 - There's no place like home

Yesterday was only my third day and I'm homesick. I NEVER get homesick. But I sit here typing and am homesick, nonetheless.

It's a peculiar feeling, this homesickness. It's funny because I don't really feel like I even have a home. Maybe it's because I basically live out of a backpack. Maybe it's because I haven't stayed in one place for more than a few months. Whatever it is, it feels strange. "There's no place like home" - I haven't had a "home" in so long. What am I missing? Feeling alone and homesick led me to look at a picture of my old house in Houston, the one I grew up in.

I miss this house. Whenever I hear Miranda Lambert's song "The House That Built Me" I think back to my life in this house. I learned to play guitar in the living room downstairs. I was asked to the Eighth Grade Dance in the driveway by Chris...um...I forgot his last name (oops). I sat in our office upstairs and listened fondly to the dial up sound of AOL back in the day. I painted my room too many times to count. I would sneak into our kitchen late at night to bake brownies with my best friend on the weekends. I literally grew up here. When I couldn't sleep in high school, I would sit up in my bed and read Scripture.

I wish I could go back there, but I know it won't be the same. It's not that I want to go back to being 17 or anything. There is just so much of me tied up there...things that God did.

Thinking about homesickness and loneliness, it only makes sense to turn to Jesus. He felt those things too. But if I'm being honest, it's hard to break down my own pride and do it. He is "The House That Built Me".

It's Lent and now is the perfect time to look back at the old house of my heart to see what all Jesus has rebuilt time and time again. Lent is a time for restoration and revisitation. Day three was about looking at my heart and trying to get comfortable in the Home of Christ in the midst of feeling homesick.

How has Jesus been rebuilding your house? Where do you find your home?

Camino Day 2 - Video

Day 2 - Ease on down the road

On the second day of creation, God separated the water with a dome and created the sky.

I didn't create sky today, but it was a beautiful day! Gorgeous, even.

I got up early...6 am! That is waaaaay out of my comfort zone. I was so tired my face hurt, but I was so excited I didn't care. Before going to bed the night before, my friend Laura and I rewrote "No Woman No Cry" for her students....on the ukulele. I fulfilled a childhood dream to write part of a rap. Check! We performed it for her classes later in the morning. I gave a testitalk (just coined that phrase....copyright pending) on the hemorrhaging woman from Mark 5 in her first period and the need for honesty with God with respects to Psalm 34:18-21. It was a great morning.

I took a side trip between classes to St. Joseph's Abbey in Covington to get some research done for my book. I got to sit down with one of the monks - Father Raphael. We talked for a while about what he did everyday and what I was doing. He was jazzed that his name was in my book and that made me excited to see him excited. He was precious.

In the afternoon, Laura and I headed to the French Quarter Festival in New Orleans. At one point, I felt like we were at a Dave Matthews concert - never seen so many older hippies wearing tie-dye and dancing around in my life.

At one point during the night, we got some grub - crawfish bread. It. Was. Heavenly. I love New Orleans for many reasons, but this bread creeps up near the top of the list. After some dancing to the Mardi Gras Indians and a great brass band and heading home, I thought more about that crawfish bread. Laura and I would just look at each other and sigh, "that bread!...."

This may seem kind of trivial to you, but I knew God loved me because of that crawfish bread.

It's true. He does.

It says in Romans that "God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us". There should be an asterisk attached about the crawfish bread. Yes, God's sacrifice of His only Son is the ultimate sign of His Love and all, but there are so many little things in life that God shows His love.

Some of my favorites include:
Crawfish bread
Sunshine
Humidity (call me crazy but I love it)
The Flip Video
My friend's son Anthony laughing at me, and getting the hiccups
Being able to weave in and out of traffic
Getting great gas mileage
Seeing sunflowers on my trip
...and much more

Today I felt loved by God, even when I wasn't so confident in myself. It's the little things that add up and mean a lot. Look for the little things today.

**There is a video coming...promise**

Day 1 - Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Day one of Mi Camino 2011. I even wore a Dorothy inspired dress to feel the part. (I hope you know how much I LOVE the Wizard of Oz.) I wanted to feel brave and wise like Dorothy. And cute...that never hurts.

My day began with my alarm at 8am, followed by me hitting the snooze every 9 minutes for an hour and a half. Was I subconsciously postponing my trip because I was nervous?...maybe. Whatever. Now is not the time to psychoanalyze myself. After showering and packing/filtering through what I really needed for a few weeks, I gulped down some Special K and hopped in the car. As I hopped into the drivers seat, I noticed that I had somehow poured a large amount of my water bottle onto my arm and dress. Awesome. Omen? Hope not.

I thought about that as I began to drive and figured things will always spill over in life and God dries it off. Too much of a stretch?

Trucking down I-10 today, I saw a couple dozen cops pulling people over all over the place! Why is it whenever I see a cop who is clearly stopped and in a conversation with a law breaker, I panic and think, "They're gonna get me!" I slow down a lot as my blood pressure sky rockets and eventually settles to a semi-average pump, and think to myself, "What could I have done wrong?" Why does this happen? Is this just me? Do I have some weird guilty conscience? Apparently I think that cops can falsely read your soul / license plate. Strange, I know. But these are my thoughts.

Nothing too interesting happened on my drive today. Part of me was kind of sad about that. Don't get me wrong, I didn't actually think that on day one everything would change, but I expected something.

I had a lot of time to just think and talk to God. I gave the trip to Saint Raphael the Archangel. I do love him very much. Something God and I were chatting about in the car was the hemorrhaging woman in Mark 5. Last weekend I shared about her in a talk I had to give to my students on a retreat. The thing I love about that story is how bold and wise that woman is. She DARES to touch Jesus and KNOWS that He can heal her. In the next instant, however, she is afraid of what Jesus might say....Will He take it back? Will He punish her? She falls to her knees and tells him everything. For a while, I thought that this meant she confessed her sins. She probably did do that, but she probably poured her heart out to Him. She probably said how lonely and scared and ostracized she felt because of her hurt. She probably cried on Jesus' shoulder and He probably held her tight as she breathed in His healing breath. It's a beautiful story. Jesus says her faith has saved her. Beautiful.

But in the car today, something else struck me...Jesus is passing through this huge crowd, everybody is touching Him (including this anonymous woman) but He is only "aware at once that power had gone out from him" when Jane Doe touches him. Why didn't He say His power was going out all over the place on all of these people? EVERYBODY was touching Him - like Oprah walking in Sydney (google it). And then it hit me.

We have to ask when we encounter Jesus to heal us.

This chick goes expecting that she can encounter the Messiah, that He can heal her and in her heart of hearts, prays ardently that He'll do it, if she "but touch his clothes".

How many times in my life do I just bump into Jesus, ignoring a real relationship with him, treating Him as a face in the crowd or a means to an end? Jesus is more than just a fix-it-guy. He's a person. He desired not just the woman's healing, but a relationship between them - why else would he stop and talk to her? She was bleeding, unclean and probably not the Prom Queen. It's more than a healing. It's a relationship.

That's something I'm realizing now. I want a relationship. A real one. A real relationship with Love Himself who loves even when I just bump into Him along the way - not in a guilt-trip kind of a way, but in a "I'm not going anywhere" kind of a way. A Love who waits.

For so long I've thought that if I turned and loved this Love in the way I was supposed to, that God would give this maniacal laugh and douse me with who knows what and I'd be lured into some crazy trap. (Why on earth have I seen God this way for so long and survived to tell about it?) That's not how He loves or wants to love. I've been so confused for so long. His Love is gentle and patient and kind and patient some more. Thank God for this chance. Thank God for this adventure. Thank God for my yellow brick road.

Before it begins...

I heard the following song on the radio today. It made me feel good about the following...



I'm jumping in my good ol' car tomorrow (his name is Diego) and hitting the open road. I've been toying with this idea of going on a road trip "solo mio" for some time and have been convinced for some time that God wants me to do it. There are so many reasons for this trip.

1. I'm hitting up a lot of locations that I'm writing about in my book.
2. It's Lent. I'm making a personal pilgrimage.
3. Why not?
4. Most importantly, God asked me to.

I used to think that doing something like this was nuts. Especially by myself. But something changed.

I realized I didn't trust Jesus. Or love Him most of all. Don't get me wrong, I've thought this before...it is not a new concept. But Lent hit, the "s" hit the fan and I hit the floor. In the fetal position. Sobbing like am out of control toddler.

For so long, I've been afraid to love Him and let Him love me and trust in that love. Why? I don't rightly know, there are a myriad of reasons. But what better way to get to know someone than to travel with them. Just me and Jesus for a few weeks. And you, if you'll have me.

I'm going to be writing all about the trip. Taking photos. Videos even. (Thank you Lauren for lending me your Flip - literally an answer to a silly prayer.) The trip isn't just about travel or writing or even me. It's about finding God in the mundane. Getting to know Him as Beloved and Friend. I hate to be alone, especially in the car for a long time and He is calling me out of my comfort zone. Join me, won't you?

The song by Miranda Lambert is (for me) about being brave, listening to the Wise voice speaking in my heart and following It. This intro is kind of fluffy, but don't you worry, more substance will come....consider this the mini cupcake before dinner. All you need to know is, there is more.

Get excited. I haven't been this jazzed to do something in quite some time. Jesus, I trust in you.

And the Oscar goes to...

The 83rd Oscars were last night. I was unable to see the entire award show because we had Confirmation and my duty was to my catechumens...precious.

Our night was about the Eucharist and how it is the "Source and Summit" of our Faith. While the presenter was speaking, he solicited responses from the 150-ish juniors about times when transformed different things/people in Scripture (hinting at how simple bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ). One of my students yelled out from the back row, "The Incarnation!" I sat there...shocked. One of MY students yelled that. What the what?
The speaker, using a very Socratic method, asked, "So, what did God transform?"
My kid yelled back, "He became a baby." Kind of sassy-like, now that I think about it.
"Well, how did God do it?" the speaker went on.
After a short pause, my student shouted, "Carefully."
Touche, student. Touche.

That little moment, albeit hilarious, made me so proud. My students are kind of understanding the faith and want to know more. Praise the Good Lord! All Glory to God, right? Right.

Coming home from Confirmation last night, I walked into the house to see the Oscars on TV. Zachary Levi and Mandy Moore were singing the nominated song from Tangled (which was awesome) and I was hooked, sitting comfortably in my favorite chair. The Oscars went on for a while and I enjoyed it for the most part. The clincher was the end. Please watch the video....now.



That group of public school kids was adorable. They sang my favorite song, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as the Emerald City glistened in the background. Then, all of the Oscar Winners walked forward to join the little dreamers themselves.

I loved that moment. Dreams come true. As strange or weird or just plain wrong that some of the movies may have been, all the actors chased their dreams. They went for it. And didn't stop. And last night, some of their dreams came true. They will forever be remembered as "Oscar Winners". I could go on to say things like, "you can gain the whole world and lose your soul", which is a truth...but I don't want to focus on that today.

Listening to some of their acceptance speeches truly moved me. Colin Firth was beside himself for winning "Best Actor", thanking his wife for her support. Tom Hooper, who won the Oscar for Directing The King's Speech thanked his mother above everyone else. The Social Network won for "Film Editing" and the two gentlemen thanked their wives and families. Natalie Portman said in an interview after winning "Best Actress" that she was taking on the most important role of her life now, as a mother. Wow. Her acceptance speeches all awards season have been family oriented. She thanks her parents for giving her life and her fiance for helping her bring life into the world. Granted, she did things a little backwards, but still, she seems to have her priorities right.

It was refreshing to see people in Hollywood know what really counts. It gives me hope. Last night edified that God gives us each gifts to use to bring Him glory. Those gifts are necessary for the world to know Him. They are not our own...but they are very good. Knowing the Giver of the Gifts and putting our priorities right is necessary too. It's important to be careful with how we utilize our gifts and what we do with them. Just as God came into the world "carefully", like my student said, we must practice humility with bringing God into the world using those gifts He's given us. He transforms waht he gives us so that the we may be transformed and be lights in the world around us. Natalie Portman's acknowledgment of her most important role as a mother reminded me that each of our most important role's is to be a child of God and to let Him love us. That's how we can use our gifts best....by loving God and others as He loves us.

Dreams come true, somewhere over the rainbow. They become most beautiful when we can point to God and say, "That's where the dream came from, and that's where it goes." Know what is important.

Useless Information

Do you ever wonder why we say the things we say?

I sure do. I don't mean to say, "why do we say mean things or hurtful things or weird things". I'm talking about those cliche idioms that we say.

"By the skin of your teeth"

"It's all Greek to me"

"Cross your fingers"

Where the heck did all of this come from?

I'm a fan of useless knowledge. A BIG fan. I love going to Barnes and Noble and planting myself in the Trivia section that can usually be found by the fake Starbucks in the store or near the Local travel section. I don't know why I am so very fond of it - my brain is full of useless information, mainly of the pop culture nature. I think that's why I like the History Channel so much, and the show "How It's Made" and stuff like that. I'd like to say that it's a gift from God (because everything is, right?) but I haven't quite figured out how it's supposed to glorify Him or the Kingdom. I don't think I need to know, but I have a feeling it might just make Him laugh with me some times.

Anyway, back to the point...

"I'm here for ya bro. I got a lifetime of knowledge." (That's from She's The Man - see, pointless, but funny.)

I did some research on these idioms, and for your enjoyment, here are some highlights:

"By the skin of your teeth"
That actually is reference from Job...that's right, the Bible. "My bones cleave to my skin, and I have escaped with my flesh between my teeth." (Job 19:20) Job was stripped of everything by God, who loved him, and still remained faithful. To show Satan that Job was a man of faith, he allowed for everything to be taken from him. Job was utterly broken, as I'm sure most of us have felt from time to time, but God proved faithful himself and never let Job escape his love despite all the crummy circumstances with not much beyond "the skin of his teeth". Boom.

"It's Greek to me"
Surprise surprise. Also has to do with the faith. In the Middle Ages, monk scribes who were copying manuscripts in libraries had a hard time...Greek wasn't as popular as it was, say, in the time of actually writing the Bible and other popular manuscripts. A lot of the time, they didn't really know what they may have been copying meant, but copy they did. It was all "Greek" to them.  "Graecum est; non legitur" ("it is Greek, [therefore] it cannot be read"). It's also referenced in Julius Caesar by good ol' Billy Shakespeare in reference to Casca not understanding what was going down.

"Cross your fingers"
Also from the faith. In the Middle Ages, there were many occult practices of witchcraft and superstitions of ghosts and whatnot. In order to protect themselves, Christians would make the sign of the cross in a form of prayer. However, there were instances where there wasn't enough time to make the sign of the cross, so a practice developed of making a cross with the middle and index finger (kind of similar to the practice of kissing one's thumb cross over the index finger after making the sign of the cross today). Nowadays, people cross their fingers for good fortune. Ta-da.


There are many many more. Look them up for yourselves. It's so funny where some of this stuff comes from. The fact that a lot of our phrase come form a piece of history and our faith...that's pretty cool too. Maybe I'm just a nerd (it's true, I am), but my brain feels bigger from knowing all this useless information. I'm sure God will use it all, someday.

Lila Rose on Glenn Beck

A must see video. Become educated and get involved.

"All life is worth living."

Love That Sticks

The following has been on my mind for a while now. Please prepare for a fist full of truth to come straight to your throat.

Right now, on the local Christian radio station, KSBJ (cue the singing jingle - kay ess bee jaaaaaayyy!), there's this movement called "Love That Sticks". The nitty-gritty of it is to encourage people to leave nice, affirming, sticky notes around the city for whomever - co-workers, friends, waiters, strangers, etc.

I love this.

I am a huge proponent of affirmations. If "Affirmations" were a company, I would be employed as the Public Relations representative.

This "movement" is what every person needs. Who doesn't want to be told they are good? Granted, I understand that some people do not know how to accept compliments, but come on. I can tell a serious different in my own attitude when I make a conscious effort to affirm others. And I'm not talking about "you're awesome" or "stay cool" or any other lame-sauce yearbook-ism. I'm talking real-deal affirmations. Taking note of a specific thing you see that is good in another person. It's like seeing "God" in someone else. And isn't that what we're supposed to do? I've heard that that's what loving someone is...seeing God in that person...affirming their inherent goodness in a real and tangible way.

I'll be honest, I hate not being affirmed. I haven't felt very affirmed much in the past few months. Now, don't take this to mean that I'm looking for compliments. I love to be told that I'm good. Most people do. I know my goodness comes from God, but it makes a difference to hear it from a truly audible voice that others can hear too. That's not meant to sound needy or egotistical. I mean that sometimes, it means the world to hear that you're beautiful, or funny, or wise, or appreciated. But the world we live in is uncomfortable at telling someone they're good. I think it's seen as a weakness. That's malarkey. Horse manure. Bull honkey. [Insert your own term here]. I believe, it's a strength.

Think about it. In Genesis, after God had created everything, he found it "very good". He spoke life into the world. We can speak life into the hearts of those we meet with a simple "love that sticks".


There have been studies done in the past with people undergoing organ transplants are more likely to survive and thrive if they have a good support system around them to build them up and assist during troublesome times. Their transplanted organs are more likely to bond to their bodies and their bodies are less likely to reject the organ. You can translate this to mean, if you are going through anything at all and have people around you to build you up, you are more likely to persevere and overcome, and to come to know that you are loved by God and that other person, if you will. (And I will.) Words bring life. Or on the flip-flop, words can destroy life...but we'll leave that for another time.



Just get over being afraid or feeling awkward! Get over yourself and tell someone they are good! There's a scene in "My Best Friend's Wedding" where Michael is explaining to Jules that his fiance told him that "If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud, or the moment passes you by". Share the love! I promise (in a semi-selfish way) that it will even make you feel better too. It's a way to follow the call to be a disciple, anyway. Do you really think that for the 3 years they were traipsing around the Holy Land, Jesus never told his followers, "hey, you're doing a great job following" or "you loved that person today, way to go"? Granted, in scripture we see Him tell them things they were doing not-so-great (ways to improve, if you will, but there's something to positive reinforcement, and I'm certain that the Messiah knew that and did it from time to time. Tough love is good, but Love is best. Take a tip from the Big Guy - say nice things to people this week. You will never know the impact your kind words can have on another...again allow me to emphasize that this isn't some run-of-the-mill "you're really nice" comment.

The more you can recognize God in others, the good in someone else, and are able to call it out in another, the more you yourself will know your own goodness, and ultimately come to know God more. Love begets Love. Challenge...put a nice sticky note on your roommate's desk, your barista's tip jar, your professors mailbox, etc. Do SOMETHING!!!! Let someone know they are good and loved. It's one of the greatest ways we can spread the Light around. Don't hide it under a bushel - NO! Let it shine, silly. Love wins. Always. Bottom line. In the face of adversity, Love wins. Love somebody today with a little affirmation. Love is what sticks around, after all.

A cold hippie's tale

I feel kind of like a hippie.

I've been sitting in a coffee shop all afternoon, drinking black/chocolate/mint tea (yum!), and writing. If you could see me, you would notice that I look quite hippie-esque too - wearing a big baggy sweater and jeans with holes. I've been listening to music from Elizabethtown and Parenthood (one of my favorite TV shows with the BEST soundtrack). I've made acquaintances with the local indie-rockers and internet commuters.

This is a great place to write. There's local art on the walls and kids with tattoos who dish out coffee and tea while they study for tomorrows tests. It's a dream.

The one sobering thing is the temperature outside - it is freezing.

I realize that many of you hear me say, on occasion, or boast, rather, how warm it is in Texas, how wonderful it is and how much it must suck to be up north in the snow.

I am eating my words. Metaphorically speaking. Although, I am hungry, now that I think about it...

It's so cold. I have on tights under my jeans. I left the snowy tundra so I wouldn't have to make extreme wardrobe decisions like this. Fail.

Sitting in this coffee shop makes me happy. It inspires me. I feel like perhaps, somehow, I'm united across time and space with great writers who sat, just like me, trying desperately to make their fingers keep up with their brains - and their words paint the picture they so intensely wanted the world to see and understand. I found this prayer the other day for writers...there's a line in it that goes like this:

"But most of all, Lord, help me to know the Truth, so my fiction is more honest than actuality and reaches the depths of my reader's soul."

I like this line. It makes me feel like when I pray the words, and try to get out what is inside of me, that greatness is possible. Even more than that, that there is a universal story. There IS a universal story (the story of salvation) and it's woven through each of our hearts uniting us to something and SOMEONE greater than ourselves. The TRUTH in the prayer is that story. A truly good story strikes a chord in the hearts of the readers, calling out to them that which is undeniable.

Take for example "Redeeming Love" by Francine Rivers. Here's a story that I push on anyone and everyone I can. I do that because the universal story is apparent in it. Love (not the ooey-gooey form, but the real substantial "makes-you-willing-to-do-anything-because-it-comes-from-God" kind) drives it. Granted, it is a very faithfilled story, but the Truth is there and the author isn't afraid to run from it. She embraces it.

Love is universal. It is necessary because it is God. (Sweet baby Jesus, somebody keeps opening an closing the front door of this place, letting the frigid air in. Brr...you're on my list.) It is what drives us individually and is what drives a good story.

I was reminiscing earlier about an adventure I had to take on my own once. A friend of mine reminded me that she too had to take a trip like that. And you know what, Love drove the whole way. It was fantastic! It was scary as hell but at the heart of it all, it was good. Plain and simple. And isn't that what a good story should be, too? Scary as hell but GOOD?

Love is that way, I suppose. It's vulnerable. It's open. It makes the impossible possible. It gets you out of yourself and into Someone bigger than you. It makes you become who you are meant to be, and sometimes who you've been hiding from all along. I don't know if any of this makes much sense to you, but any good story must have Love, not just the ooey gooey kind. It's gotta be real.

The realness makes the Love go. It's truth and it's honest. It reaches the depths. It beckons. It encourages. It makes you real. In the story "The Velveteen Rabbit", I can remember this line where somebody says "Once you've been made real, you can't be made un-real again." I think this real-truth-honest-deep-beckonging-Love does it all.

May all your stories be driven by Love and may they show your readers the Light of Hope, Love and Truth. Love is a light and it illuminates the story within.

Peace,
Today's Hippie

Need a band-aid?

If you know me well, one of the things you can most likely recall is that I love Archangel Raphael. Like, a lot. On his feast day, I wrote about him. One of my favorite things that he is a patron of - HEALING.

My entire life, this has been something prominent, whether I knew it or not. Now, please do not misunderstand me with this - I cannot lay my hands on anyone and heal them. Trust me, I've tried. Seriously. I mean, if God chose to do that through me, that'd be great. But so far, that's never happened.

Sidebar:
When I was about 20, I was in Chicago and this man (I forget his name, but he left an impression on me) prayed with me and said that God wanted to give me the gift of healing. I thought he was weird, but wanted to put it to the test. (I'm bullheaded and was very cocky at this point in my life.) So I went to a friend's side who was very sick, laid my hands on him and prayed that God would heal him. I thought I'd see light shoot out of my hands, fill his whole being, and then he would sit up and being leaping and bounding around the room singing praises like David.
That didn't happen.
He did get better, in like a week. I decided that I had nothing to do with it and didn't think about "healing" for a couple years.

Needless to say, healing has been a huge part of my life. I've studied it...mostly in the realm of psychology, knowing that a lot of healing is needed in our world and in the hearts and minds of people. Healing isn't just in the miraculous though. Yes, God's miraculous healings are amazing. People being cured of cancer, being able to walk, see, speak, you name it, He can do it. But I think that some of the greatest miracles are the healings of the heart, those which nobody really sees and outsiders never really notice that it has happened.

Healing takes time. It's a journey. But when it happens....it happens. Raphael went on a journey with the young Tobias to grant God's healing grace to his father and future bride, Sarah (please see the book of Tobit).

After walking 200 miles, going through what I'm sure was not always the most pleasant of circumstances, healing came out of left field for Sarah. A couple weeks and 200 more miles later, healing came home to Tobias' dad. It was quite the adventure for all involved in the story.

The point I'm trying to make is that healing happens. Not always when or how we expect, but it happens. This introduction is all because I went through this a couple of days ago.

I've been on my own "epic walk" of healing for a while. The one day, out of the blue, everything changed. The questions that I had wanted to ask to find what I thought would be healing after all this time for myself I didn't need to ask. I didn't want to ask. God did it. I had peace. For those of you that think you might know what I'm talking about, trust me, you don't. Sorry to throw that curve ball at you.

A couple wounds in my own heart had been festering and becoming gangrenous to my life. I knew God was going to heal me, that I had to put forth my own effort too, but for a while, it seemed endless. And then...it just wasn't. Something happened, and I realized that I had been healed for a while, and didn't realize it. I had been dwelling in the past and not living in the present where, consequently, I had been healed.

We do that a lot. We name ourselves by our hurts. "Hi, my name is (insert name here) and I (insert brokenness here)"...."Hi (name)", sayeth the group.

The truth is, we cannot live in the hurt. We do need to experience it, feel it, know that it is there, but then know something very crucial - we are not our wounds. We are Christ's. He is the Healer and He can do it. No matter what has happened in our lives, we have a Father who's only intention is to Love. Crap happens. Mistakes are made, on our own part or on the part of someone else....but we are no mistake. Love is no mistake. Healing is a free gift given by God. We have to choose to accept it, claim it, and live in it.

Why do we make it so hard on ourselves? We can get so used to living a certain way and thinking a certain thing. And then, here comes God with a real fix, a real cure (His Love and Grace) and it frightens us because we doubt and we want to fix it ourselves. We want to analyze the hell out of ourselves and find the answer...when the whole time the answer is in front of us. Trust me, I studied a lot of psychology, I know how to analyze. I asked myself all the correct "counseling" questions to get to the bottom of it, to find the cure. But I had to get out of myself and get into Him.

I'll be honest, "getting into Him" was so hard. It is hard to trust a doctor that you can't see...that's why WebMd is evil and causes hypochondriacs to repopulate the modern world. Letting go is never easy, especially when it's your own heart and it's hurts. But the "letting go" is the first step. It's the hardest. It's surrender and it doesn't sit well with our fallen ways. Coming from some one who has had to "let go" a time or two, it is the opposite of fun (and I like doing things that are fun).

Bottom line: that's where the healing begins. It begins with a step. One step leads to one epic journey. (That was for you Kate.) And one epic journey is in store for us all...to get back to Him and to get back to one another. Relationship is forged in fire. He's got more than a band-aid for the pain, even better than Neosporin. Allow Him to burn the hurts. It's gonna sting, but in the end, it is GOOD.

Healing is for everyone. There's a quote from an author that I found. (I confess I know nothing about him or his writing, but he's at least got something right:
“Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is.”

Today, let Love surprise you. That's the best kind - when it comes out of nowhere. I think God does that to emphasize that it's His GIFT and there was nothing you could do to deserve it or earn it. Thank God. Ask Saint Raphael the Archangel for his assistance on your journey. He is a protector and will show you the Father who loves, heals, unites, binds, redeems, etc. 

Writers block

"Writers block": noun
1. The inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing; normally temporary. (Real definition)
2. A brick wall standing in the way of something good and worth climbing only able to be moved by a combination of God's will and man's. (My definition)

It has been quite some time since I clicked on my bookmarks and even ventured to blog. I should explain...

For a couple months, I have had nothing to say. My mama always said "if you have nothing nice to say, it's better to say nothing at all"...or something like that. Maybe my mother never even said that. It is a possibility that the maxim was never uttered by her, only drilled into my head by society. That's a good one, Society. Touche. Nevertheless, I didn't have anything to say. God was pretty silent.

That sucked.

I hate it when God says nothing. Wait, let me rephrase that. I hate when God says a lot, then follows it up with something like "Don't forget everything I've said thus far, P.S. I love you" and then shuts up. God loaded me up with a bunch of wonderful things he said to me into a boat, christened it with a bottle of champagne, said "bon voyage" and sent me on a wild adventure on my own across the ocean. Emphasis on the alone part.

Not only did I feel alone, but I had nothing to say about it. I felt like a Debbie Downer and didn't want anyone to have to go through what I was going through. I did reach a point however when I had something to say. In the depths of my being I wanted to write, to speak, to share. But I was afraid. It sounds dumb and irrational, but I was afraid to tell stories. I felt like so much time had passed. Is it worth it? What would people think? Did I lose my mojo? Do I really have something to say? Long story short, a lot of doubt.

And even when, God willing, I pushed through that, I still didn't write. I had become so used to being afraid of words. Lame sauce. I had become afraid to share.

There is no real ending to the story. I'm nervous writing right now. Perhaps that's the process...you get stuck, get used to being stuck, don't know how to live any other way, and then it takes a gale-force wind of God combined with your own will to push across the ocean, dock, and get yourself off the freaking boat and onto new land. Not to beat a dead horse of an analogy, but I feel like an explorer now. I'm in new uncharted territory of myself with an experience that has shaped me and made me new and different and I'm enjoying getting to know "me" in this new world. I'm excited. God moves and does and recreates in His time and His purpose. "Writers block" be darned. God is bigger than you. And I'm sticking with Him.