Saturday, September 18, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Stabat mater dolorosa
BFFK and I are currently watching Kitty Bear flip out in the apartment because the weather is changing outside....it's no longer "Africa-Hot". It's just regular, old, hot. The cat only knows how to cope with the change by running around in circles/up the door frames/into the rooms.
Confession: I shut the doors to my room and bathroom when she wasn't looking in hopes that Kitty Bear would crash into the doors and go "splat". So far....no "splat". Oops.
Also at the moment, BFFK and I are watching the season premiere of one of my favorite shows "Parenthood". If you've never seen it, you're missing out. I'm not saying that everything on the show is morally perfect, but what I am saying is that it is pretty true to life. It's a show about these 4 siblings, their own families, and their parents who all live in the same town. It's all about the different forms and ways to parent and the funny/hard things families experience. It's hilarious and honest - two of my favorite things. Check it out.
Speaking of parenthood, today is one of Momma's feast days: Our Lady of Sorrows.
I like the title of "Our Lady of Sorrows". I mean, who hasn't at one point or another been sorrowful? I can remember being somewhere in Italy and buying a little statue of OLOS. She looked really sad. But hopeful at the same time.
There's been a feast for OLOS since, like, the 12th century or something. (That's a long time.) But ever since Jesus' Crucifixion, nay, the Prophecy of Simeon, Our Lady has been OLOS. She didn't even fully know that when she said "Fiat" how much was going to come along with it.
"The child's father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Luke 2:33-35)
Mary was amazed, blessed and pierced. (Joseph too, he was in important man in salvation history, let's be honest.)
Mary shows us that if we want to follow her Son, if we want to bring Him into the world, then it's gonna take us becoming amazed, blessed and, at some point, pierced in a way. Mary may not of necessarily known what it would feel like to have her heart pierced. She knew it was coming for 33 years. And even when it was pierced, she was sorrowful WITH HOPE. This blows my mind.
It's so freaking difficult for me to suffer and have hope. When we are sorrowful or suffering it's so hard to get out of our own little bubble and see the bigger picture. The pain overtakes us and we are frozen in the moment, unable to move from the sorrow, and even if we are able to move, we don't want to because it's just plain easier to be sad than to have hope. Despite the Truth we may hear or see, it's hard.
In those times, I try to look to Our Lady of Sorrows and I think of her hope. She had a faith like Abraham...knowing that the sacrifice of her only Son was going to break her human heart completely, but that God the loving Father is bigger than death and those things we don't understand. She hopes in the hard times, for me, for you, for all of humanity. She doesn't give up. Our Lady of Sorrows has the Divine Wisdom to hope and the Heroic Patience to wait in complete trust. She has the Lively Faith to know that despite even death, God is bigger than the mystery of it all.
Confession: I shut the doors to my room and bathroom when she wasn't looking in hopes that Kitty Bear would crash into the doors and go "splat". So far....no "splat". Oops.
Also at the moment, BFFK and I are watching the season premiere of one of my favorite shows "Parenthood". If you've never seen it, you're missing out. I'm not saying that everything on the show is morally perfect, but what I am saying is that it is pretty true to life. It's a show about these 4 siblings, their own families, and their parents who all live in the same town. It's all about the different forms and ways to parent and the funny/hard things families experience. It's hilarious and honest - two of my favorite things. Check it out.
Speaking of parenthood, today is one of Momma's feast days: Our Lady of Sorrows.
I like the title of "Our Lady of Sorrows". I mean, who hasn't at one point or another been sorrowful? I can remember being somewhere in Italy and buying a little statue of OLOS. She looked really sad. But hopeful at the same time.
There's been a feast for OLOS since, like, the 12th century or something. (That's a long time.) But ever since Jesus' Crucifixion, nay, the Prophecy of Simeon, Our Lady has been OLOS. She didn't even fully know that when she said "Fiat" how much was going to come along with it.
"The child's father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (and you yourself a sword will pierce) so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Luke 2:33-35)
Mary was amazed, blessed and pierced. (Joseph too, he was in important man in salvation history, let's be honest.)
Mary shows us that if we want to follow her Son, if we want to bring Him into the world, then it's gonna take us becoming amazed, blessed and, at some point, pierced in a way. Mary may not of necessarily known what it would feel like to have her heart pierced. She knew it was coming for 33 years. And even when it was pierced, she was sorrowful WITH HOPE. This blows my mind.
It's so freaking difficult for me to suffer and have hope. When we are sorrowful or suffering it's so hard to get out of our own little bubble and see the bigger picture. The pain overtakes us and we are frozen in the moment, unable to move from the sorrow, and even if we are able to move, we don't want to because it's just plain easier to be sad than to have hope. Despite the Truth we may hear or see, it's hard.
In those times, I try to look to Our Lady of Sorrows and I think of her hope. She had a faith like Abraham...knowing that the sacrifice of her only Son was going to break her human heart completely, but that God the loving Father is bigger than death and those things we don't understand. She hopes in the hard times, for me, for you, for all of humanity. She doesn't give up. Our Lady of Sorrows has the Divine Wisdom to hope and the Heroic Patience to wait in complete trust. She has the Lively Faith to know that despite even death, God is bigger than the mystery of it all.
Our Lady of Sorrows, pray for us.
"Make me feel as thou hast felt;
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord."
make my soul to glow and melt
with the love of Christ my Lord."
When it's a #2, I look like #1
If you haven't seen this yet, for shame.
This is by far the best commercial I've seen in quite some time. This young gentleman is a man after my own heart...a white button up and jeans. Classy, young sir. Very classy.
This is by far the best commercial I've seen in quite some time. This young gentleman is a man after my own heart...a white button up and jeans. Classy, young sir. Very classy.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Story time...
A few days ago, my good friend explained Fantasy Football to me. Now, I’ve never even had a desire to understand, let alone play, Fantasy Football. I don’t even remember how the topic came up. Needless to say, we were driving around and it came up. He proceeded to explain FF to me, but upon seeing that I didn’t quite grasp it, he gave it to me in a metaphor which included scheduling speakers for youth conferences. To quote: “You wouldn’t schedule Mark Hart for a teeny tiny breakout session, when he’s a big enough player to pack a room of thousands for a keynote.” He said this to help me get the whole draft thing with all the rounds. Believe it or not, I got it.
Last night, was the first game of the season, so we watched New Orleans play Minnesota. Whilst we watched (I love the word “whilst”), I asked a billion questions about how you earn the points exactly in FF and what every rush/touchdown/pass meant. I even surprised him when I understood the differences between Questionable and Probable categories for players in your own team. Go me. For a long time, Derek kept explaining things in the metaphor of youth conference speakers. I had to eventually stop him mid-game and tell him that he didn’t need to do that anymore…that I actually really did get it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no profesh, but I think I want to join a league next year. It’s all very interesting and kind of fun to me.
I share this story for a few reasons:
1) To let the world know that I’m not a ditz when it comes to sports. My father played basketball and football in high school and football in college and made sure to teach me a thing or two about sports. I may not be good at anything, but I understand it. (Sidenote – I love Baseball and even thought my ‘Stros have sucked it up this year, I am a die-hard fan. I can watch baseball all day and be entertained.)
2) Also, to explain the learning process of our small human brains. Let me explain:
You see, I think that we as a human race (God bless us) are completely self-centered. Our personal worlds are so small and close to us, that it’s hard for one to comprehend something outside of our selves. I understand thing in reference to what I like and what I know – like dance, stories, speaking, flying, etc. Derek had to explain fantasy football to me in a way that I would understand. He knew that I understood speakers and booking and scheduling, so he went that route.
Quick story – when I was in high school, I danced. A lot. I was in charge of my team at school. I would choreograph and teach dances and keep people in line. When you dance, it helps to have a story for motivation. If you’ve ever watched SYTYCD, the choreographer usually has a story they are trying to express in dance because words just won’t do. They typically explain it during the clip of the dancers learning it. It helps the dancers to know the story behind the choreography so that they can appropriately communicate the story to get the audience to participate in said story and feel what cannot be expressed in words. In high school, the girls called me “Mother Goose” because everytime I taught, I gave a story to explain how to dance. One of the routines was a kind of angry piece put to a medley I created from “Road to Perdition” (great soundtrack) and the story was about the Storming of Bastille that we learned about in History class. Google it. I told the story of what happened so that the girls could better understand the emotion I wanted them to express in order to get the audience to enter into the story. Just like the SYTYCD choreographers, I tried to get the audience to enter into my story by giving one to base everything off of. Derek tried to get me to understand Fantasy Football by giving me a story that was relevant to me.
This is exactly what Jesus did.
Jesus taught in parables, meeting his listeners where they were at (in a boat, in a family, at a wedding, in the field sowing, etc.) to invite them into the story and get them out of the self-centered world they lived in so that He might show them that He was indeed the world they needed to live in. He was bigger than the world the had found themselves looking at.
Jesus teaches us in parables still.
He has shown me that when I love selflessly, my worldview is bigger and not focused on only me and my tiny circle of a “personal space bubble”.
He has shown me that when my BFFK gives a granola bar to the same homeless man every week at the same overpass that He always provides and loves unconditionally.
He has shown me that when my former pastor sees me after years of not seeing me and tells me I’m a beautiful young woman that He sees me as His beautiful daughter that He is proud of and loves unconditionally.
He has shown me of His undying affection for me when my BFF Rachel has my back and always supports me in all that I do. I understand that He loves stupidly by accepting the love she shows me.
The stories of my life show me (and God-willing, others) that He is Real, He is Love and He is Relationship. Through the mystery of the Incarnation, God sent Himself to be humanity, to suffer on the Cross and to die and defeat death, inviting everyone into a RELATIONSHIP with a Being who is Real, Love and Relationship itself. He meets me, and you, where we are at by inviting us into a story that is bigger than ourselves to get us out of ourselves. He speaks in the strangest of places and, at the same time, the place where we are in order to Be with us.
Listen to the parable God is speaking to you, the story He is reaching out to you in today. He meets you where you are. He becomes Bread so that you can receive His Body – talk about profound humility. Let God be God and humble himself to meet you in your self-centered world so that He can show that there is so much more.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Listen in the....wherever
I cannot remember a time when I have slept so much. I got sick on Friday, and have slept at least 10 hours every night since then....plus naps. I am a firm believer that when you're sick, the best treatment is sleeping. Luckily, I have the opportunity to do that. But, sleeping makes me feel weak. Not, "I'm a weak little baby" (said in a Schwarzenagger voice), but, you know, I get up and walk around for a while and am just wiped. Plus, Tropical Storm Hermine (pronounced "hur-mine", not like the character from Harry Potter, contrary to what I believed and was corrected about by the weatherman on Channel 2) has rolled into Houston and it's been raining, a lot, feeding my sleepiness.
On Sunday, a great friend of mine who is in the seminary in Houston, invited me to Mass and brunch. I was excited because I hadn't seen him in quite some time and I love the Church at St. Mary's Seminary. (Sidenote - I'm a sucker for liturgical art. The way a Church is designed and the art in it should lead the congregation closer to God. See CCC 2503-2503.) St. Mary's is old school and has a fantastic ceiling above the sanctuary. There's gold and a ton of symbolism in everything. Needless to say, I was stoked. I was feeling sick, but I knew I needed to go to Mass and the trip was worth the sacrifice at 9am. I arrived just in time and followed my friend into Mass.
Never have I felt like I stood out soooooo much. I was the lone girl in a sea of 85-ish seminarians/deacons/priests. Awesome. They were all in suits (or clerics) and I in a modest gray and black dress (thank God I got the color memo). However, I was wearing a bright red-orange cardigan which announced my presence...as did my lack of a Y chromosome. I fidgeted the entire time with what I was wearing, even though I was completely modest, and freaked out if I should have worn my floor length burlap sack.
Mass was great. I was a bit foggy with my cold/flu, but it was nice. Brunch was great. I got to see some friends from college also, and it was great to sit and chat with these awesome men. My friend wanted to catch up, so after brunch we went on a walk on the grounds.
St. Mary's has a great path system in the woods, complete with stations, and my friend showed me the tennis courts and all the other fun stuff, including the damage that still exists after Hurricane Ike.
On our walk, we talked (of course) and I asked him a very blunt question - "How do you hear God?" I think he was a bit taken aback, so I explained myself. A couple weeks ago, a former teen of mine asked how I hear God. My immediate reaction was, "I don't know", when in reality I do know. I told her that I just hear Him and I didn't know how to teach that. Since then, I've been on a survey kick, asking people how they hear God. My seminarian friend told me he just kind of gets a nudge on his shoulder. My BFFK (that would translate into my "best friend friend Kristin" aka, the "housemate") hears God kind of the same way I do. Her husband hears God through people. (Sidenote - when I asked him how he knew he was supposed to marry Kristin, he said "God said 'marry her or I'll kick your butt'"...I laughed...hard. He was kidding.) My mom doesn't hear God the way I do. Neither does my dad. It got me thinking...how do I hear God? How did I get to this point?
I'm no mystic. I'm not a saint. But, I wanted to know how did I get to place when I hear Him in the bathroom a lot of the time. I know it hasn't always been that way, but what happened?
I sat down with BFFK and we talked it out. I realized that when I did first "hear" God speak to me, I already knew His voice. I had heard it before, but I couldn't pinpoint it. I had to think...
I grew up with a family that was very faithful. We're talking Mass every Sunday, my parents were really involved at the Church and I had always known who God was and that I was His daughter. I knew that Jesus was the King and He should be number one in my life. (Look at CCC 2685, the Church states that the first place a person learns about prayer and God in general is in the family. Family is the domestic church, by virtue of the sacrament of Marriage.) As I talked it out more, I told BFFK that when I was a young teen, I used to sit up and read the Bible at night. Call me a dork, but that's what I did. I just wanted to hear what God had to say. Through that, I heard stories of times when God spoke to people. I learned what happened when He chose to speak to people like Moses, Abraham, Ezekial, Tobit, Mary, Paul, etc. I read what His voice sounded like, the peace that it brought, the doubt that a human had when hearing it because they were afraid (Fear of the Lord), the love that ensued, etc. I saw how His voice transformed people and I knew that once God spoke to somebody, things would never be the same. From an early age, I learned the characteristics about God's voice, so that when I did hear Him, I already knew the voice in a way. It was familiar. It was home.
I'm nobody special. I try to love and listen to God. Sometimes I hear Him. He's always there, though. He's there in the way I hear Him and he's there nudging my seminarian friend on the shoulder. He's there with BFFK's husband when he hears the voice of God through other people. He meets us where we're at and I believe God spoke to me when He knew I was ready to hear Him and that I would recognize His voice...like His little sheep. He's my shepherd and I know His voice. Sometimes, when I'm out in the field and wandering, he hollers and I come running. Other times, he knows I'm within the fence and He can see me and let's me sniff around and eat some grass (I just took that analogy really far).
Even when I'm sick and stuck on the couch, listening to the rain gently hit the window pane, I know He's got me. Okay, so I WANT TO KNOW completely that He's got me...but it's a growing process. Trusting in His voice...not just hearing it. Maybe that's what you need to do today. Get to know the voice of God, the voice that speaks something into the nothingness. Read His Word and get to know the people who He has spoken to in Scripture.
How do you hear God?...feel free to comment and respond.
On Sunday, a great friend of mine who is in the seminary in Houston, invited me to Mass and brunch. I was excited because I hadn't seen him in quite some time and I love the Church at St. Mary's Seminary. (Sidenote - I'm a sucker for liturgical art. The way a Church is designed and the art in it should lead the congregation closer to God. See CCC 2503-2503.) St. Mary's is old school and has a fantastic ceiling above the sanctuary. There's gold and a ton of symbolism in everything. Needless to say, I was stoked. I was feeling sick, but I knew I needed to go to Mass and the trip was worth the sacrifice at 9am. I arrived just in time and followed my friend into Mass.
Never have I felt like I stood out soooooo much. I was the lone girl in a sea of 85-ish seminarians/deacons/priests. Awesome. They were all in suits (or clerics) and I in a modest gray and black dress (thank God I got the color memo). However, I was wearing a bright red-orange cardigan which announced my presence...as did my lack of a Y chromosome. I fidgeted the entire time with what I was wearing, even though I was completely modest, and freaked out if I should have worn my floor length burlap sack.
Mass was great. I was a bit foggy with my cold/flu, but it was nice. Brunch was great. I got to see some friends from college also, and it was great to sit and chat with these awesome men. My friend wanted to catch up, so after brunch we went on a walk on the grounds.
St. Mary's has a great path system in the woods, complete with stations, and my friend showed me the tennis courts and all the other fun stuff, including the damage that still exists after Hurricane Ike.
On our walk, we talked (of course) and I asked him a very blunt question - "How do you hear God?" I think he was a bit taken aback, so I explained myself. A couple weeks ago, a former teen of mine asked how I hear God. My immediate reaction was, "I don't know", when in reality I do know. I told her that I just hear Him and I didn't know how to teach that. Since then, I've been on a survey kick, asking people how they hear God. My seminarian friend told me he just kind of gets a nudge on his shoulder. My BFFK (that would translate into my "best friend friend Kristin" aka, the "housemate") hears God kind of the same way I do. Her husband hears God through people. (Sidenote - when I asked him how he knew he was supposed to marry Kristin, he said "God said 'marry her or I'll kick your butt'"...I laughed...hard. He was kidding.) My mom doesn't hear God the way I do. Neither does my dad. It got me thinking...how do I hear God? How did I get to this point?
I'm no mystic. I'm not a saint. But, I wanted to know how did I get to place when I hear Him in the bathroom a lot of the time. I know it hasn't always been that way, but what happened?
I sat down with BFFK and we talked it out. I realized that when I did first "hear" God speak to me, I already knew His voice. I had heard it before, but I couldn't pinpoint it. I had to think...
I grew up with a family that was very faithful. We're talking Mass every Sunday, my parents were really involved at the Church and I had always known who God was and that I was His daughter. I knew that Jesus was the King and He should be number one in my life. (Look at CCC 2685, the Church states that the first place a person learns about prayer and God in general is in the family. Family is the domestic church, by virtue of the sacrament of Marriage.) As I talked it out more, I told BFFK that when I was a young teen, I used to sit up and read the Bible at night. Call me a dork, but that's what I did. I just wanted to hear what God had to say. Through that, I heard stories of times when God spoke to people. I learned what happened when He chose to speak to people like Moses, Abraham, Ezekial, Tobit, Mary, Paul, etc. I read what His voice sounded like, the peace that it brought, the doubt that a human had when hearing it because they were afraid (Fear of the Lord), the love that ensued, etc. I saw how His voice transformed people and I knew that once God spoke to somebody, things would never be the same. From an early age, I learned the characteristics about God's voice, so that when I did hear Him, I already knew the voice in a way. It was familiar. It was home.
I'm nobody special. I try to love and listen to God. Sometimes I hear Him. He's always there, though. He's there in the way I hear Him and he's there nudging my seminarian friend on the shoulder. He's there with BFFK's husband when he hears the voice of God through other people. He meets us where we're at and I believe God spoke to me when He knew I was ready to hear Him and that I would recognize His voice...like His little sheep. He's my shepherd and I know His voice. Sometimes, when I'm out in the field and wandering, he hollers and I come running. Other times, he knows I'm within the fence and He can see me and let's me sniff around and eat some grass (I just took that analogy really far).
Even when I'm sick and stuck on the couch, listening to the rain gently hit the window pane, I know He's got me. Okay, so I WANT TO KNOW completely that He's got me...but it's a growing process. Trusting in His voice...not just hearing it. Maybe that's what you need to do today. Get to know the voice of God, the voice that speaks something into the nothingness. Read His Word and get to know the people who He has spoken to in Scripture.
How do you hear God?...feel free to comment and respond.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Becca is a proud sponsor of the Disney Channel, bringing readers together
*I'd like to first state that, the things that are underlined are in fact hyper-links and are meant to be clicked on...they usually bring in a pop-culture reference to make something more real, or, in most cases, funnier. So, click them.*
I am sick. There might be very few things that are worse (rather, more inconvenient) than being sick in the summer....the summer flu. It reminds me of a scene from The O.C., where it's made light of. Granted, I am not in the same boat as Seth's character - he's faking sick - but I am sick. It sucks.
I'm actually supposed to be at a wedding RIGHT NOW as I blog. I had to cancel my flight because I have a fever and flu-like things. Bleh. This all adds to the frustration of being sick.
When I'm sick, I don't have much of an appetite or drive. What I do have is a fever...and the only prescription is more cowbell. Kidding...I crave fast food when I'm sick. I'm like a pregnant woman - I don't feel any better until I have a burger and fries, namely, from Whataburger. If you're not from Texas, you don't understand. I am this close to hiring an assistant to go buy me a burger.
Since I'm sick, with nothing to do and nobody to really talk to, I've got a lot of time on my hands. Last night, when I woke up from a coma at 7pm, I watched (gulp) Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam. Please don't judge me. I like the Disney Channel. It's mind-numbing and funny - all the makings of a good comfort when one is sick.
(Sidenote - I haven't watched a lot of TV lately, but the stuff I have watched has made me angry: dumb plot lines, people fighting for the spotlight, etc. I'll share more about that later. Just know it's coming soon.)
Anyway, so there I was, sprawled out of the couch, blanket engulfing me while a roll of TP sat in my lap to catch the constant drippage and coughs and I held onto my cup of tea with all my strength. Camp Rock 2 was...like HSM went to camp with worse dance moves. I'm sorry, but there is one girl who they hired who just doesn't have much rhythm. Maybe I'm picky because I was once a dancer (nothing extravagant or perfect by any means) and I have high expectations when one dances on TV (sorry Kate Gosselin). The whole movie was disappointing, but I stuck with it because, due to the cloud that was setting up residence in my head, I wanted to pretend my life was in fact a musical for the night.
(Sidenote #2 - I like to pretend that often. I am a fan of dancing around and singing to music, pretending that I am, in fact, really good, and in a musical. Confession: I always do this in the bathroom while I get ready for the day. You ever seen Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me"? Yeah...that's what I do. The funny thing is, chances are you do it too, but it's one of those things that is taboo to talk about...until you walk in on your roommate dancing around their room in their robe, pretending that they are the newest cast member on "Glee", singing "Faithfully" at regionals.)
Something funny I noticed whilst I entered into the nothingness of the Disney Channel made-for-tv movie: Disney is getting outside sponsors now. Maybe this is stupid info for you and you're thinking "Becca, what are you talking about? Aren't you too old for Disney?", to which I respond, "No, one of my life goals is to be a Disney princess" (which is a future entry all-together). Whatever you're thinking, the fact is, Disney now has little commercials from companies like Verizon and Dodge Caravan. They're not even real commercials - they are usually a flash of the sponsor name with the "Disney voice-over guy" saying "Verizon is a proud sponsor of Disney Channel...bringing families together". Now, I'm glad that Disney is bringing families together. I just think it's funny that, not too long ago, Disney only was sponsored on air by...themselves. The "commercials" were always promoting their own programming, music videos of Disney Channel stars, previews for their own movies, etc. They are a self-run machine and powerhouse - they rule the media all on their own. And they're trying to focus on the family. Even one of their newer shows "Good Luck Charlie" is all about a bigger family (4 kids) with married parents and the hilarity that ensues after the fourth child, Charlie, is kind of a surprise. I'll admit - it's really funny. My housemate and I laugh at it...a lot. But I digress.
There's not so much a moral of this story. It's mostly an observation I have made. I wonder what is happening at the Disney corp and why they have begun to seek outside advertisers on their channel. Now, I understand that Disney is one with ABC and ESPN....one company, three divisions (Trinity joke, which probably fell short of the "joke" realm, landing nearby in "almost-offensive-town", sorry...blame the flu). But needless to say, it's one of those changes that make you think.
I don't know what Disney Channel will look like once "It's On! - Summer 2010" is over. I'll be expecting some newer, brighter, more stimulating and obnoxious color-scheme of a program. You should too. Or not. Go read a book. That's what I'm going to go do. Disney Channel promotes reading and fitness a lot on TV, which is kind of ironic.
Anyway, my head is cloudy, just like the sky here in Houston today...a little overcast and cool - way off from what summer is usually like. Hey look - my health parallels the weather....weird. Becca out.
Jezu Ufam Tobie.
I am sick. There might be very few things that are worse (rather, more inconvenient) than being sick in the summer....the summer flu. It reminds me of a scene from The O.C., where it's made light of. Granted, I am not in the same boat as Seth's character - he's faking sick - but I am sick. It sucks.
I'm actually supposed to be at a wedding RIGHT NOW as I blog. I had to cancel my flight because I have a fever and flu-like things. Bleh. This all adds to the frustration of being sick.
When I'm sick, I don't have much of an appetite or drive. What I do have is a fever...and the only prescription is more cowbell. Kidding...I crave fast food when I'm sick. I'm like a pregnant woman - I don't feel any better until I have a burger and fries, namely, from Whataburger. If you're not from Texas, you don't understand. I am this close to hiring an assistant to go buy me a burger.
Since I'm sick, with nothing to do and nobody to really talk to, I've got a lot of time on my hands. Last night, when I woke up from a coma at 7pm, I watched (gulp) Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam. Please don't judge me. I like the Disney Channel. It's mind-numbing and funny - all the makings of a good comfort when one is sick.
(Sidenote - I haven't watched a lot of TV lately, but the stuff I have watched has made me angry: dumb plot lines, people fighting for the spotlight, etc. I'll share more about that later. Just know it's coming soon.)
Anyway, so there I was, sprawled out of the couch, blanket engulfing me while a roll of TP sat in my lap to catch the constant drippage and coughs and I held onto my cup of tea with all my strength. Camp Rock 2 was...like HSM went to camp with worse dance moves. I'm sorry, but there is one girl who they hired who just doesn't have much rhythm. Maybe I'm picky because I was once a dancer (nothing extravagant or perfect by any means) and I have high expectations when one dances on TV (sorry Kate Gosselin). The whole movie was disappointing, but I stuck with it because, due to the cloud that was setting up residence in my head, I wanted to pretend my life was in fact a musical for the night.
(Sidenote #2 - I like to pretend that often. I am a fan of dancing around and singing to music, pretending that I am, in fact, really good, and in a musical. Confession: I always do this in the bathroom while I get ready for the day. You ever seen Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me"? Yeah...that's what I do. The funny thing is, chances are you do it too, but it's one of those things that is taboo to talk about...until you walk in on your roommate dancing around their room in their robe, pretending that they are the newest cast member on "Glee", singing "Faithfully" at regionals.)
Something funny I noticed whilst I entered into the nothingness of the Disney Channel made-for-tv movie: Disney is getting outside sponsors now. Maybe this is stupid info for you and you're thinking "Becca, what are you talking about? Aren't you too old for Disney?", to which I respond, "No, one of my life goals is to be a Disney princess" (which is a future entry all-together). Whatever you're thinking, the fact is, Disney now has little commercials from companies like Verizon and Dodge Caravan. They're not even real commercials - they are usually a flash of the sponsor name with the "Disney voice-over guy" saying "Verizon is a proud sponsor of Disney Channel...bringing families together". Now, I'm glad that Disney is bringing families together. I just think it's funny that, not too long ago, Disney only was sponsored on air by...themselves. The "commercials" were always promoting their own programming, music videos of Disney Channel stars, previews for their own movies, etc. They are a self-run machine and powerhouse - they rule the media all on their own. And they're trying to focus on the family. Even one of their newer shows "Good Luck Charlie" is all about a bigger family (4 kids) with married parents and the hilarity that ensues after the fourth child, Charlie, is kind of a surprise. I'll admit - it's really funny. My housemate and I laugh at it...a lot. But I digress.
There's not so much a moral of this story. It's mostly an observation I have made. I wonder what is happening at the Disney corp and why they have begun to seek outside advertisers on their channel. Now, I understand that Disney is one with ABC and ESPN....one company, three divisions (Trinity joke, which probably fell short of the "joke" realm, landing nearby in "almost-offensive-town", sorry...blame the flu). But needless to say, it's one of those changes that make you think.
I don't know what Disney Channel will look like once "It's On! - Summer 2010" is over. I'll be expecting some newer, brighter, more stimulating and obnoxious color-scheme of a program. You should too. Or not. Go read a book. That's what I'm going to go do. Disney Channel promotes reading and fitness a lot on TV, which is kind of ironic.
Anyway, my head is cloudy, just like the sky here in Houston today...a little overcast and cool - way off from what summer is usually like. Hey look - my health parallels the weather....weird. Becca out.
Jezu Ufam Tobie.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Honesty is the best policy, part deux
Yesterday was one of those days...
I woke up and it seemed the whole wide world was stacked up against me. Granted, I had been traveling all day, crashed at 2 am, and woke up on a very uncomfortable pillow...all of this created the backdrop for a perfect storm. Do you ever wake up and things are already going not-so-great? Like, as soon as your feet hit the floor, you feel like pretty soon, your knees, hips, elbows and shoulders will hit the floor soon after? I'm not talking about feeling paralyzed here. It's a metaphor. Please keep up.
I went to the living room of my friends house where I was staying, and was already not in a great mood. Granted, I am not a very big morning person, but this was different. I sat down and shared with my friend how I was feeling, that I was mad...at God. It took guts to verbalize, but I did it. I began to cry, expressing that I hated being upset, hated confrontation with God and just wanted to love Him simply. My friend, the great friend that they are, said "let's go to the Chapel". You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone is right and something big is gonna happen?...this was one of those such times.
We drove to the Church, and I was dropped off at the Adoration Chapel, where, upon walking in and seeing about a dozen little old ladies praying piously, I realized that this was far too public an arena for me to be honest with God. I suspected tears would be flowing (since they were already welling up in my eyes) and really wanted some privacy. So I got my friend to unlock to Main Church and I stomped my way to the tabernacle and sat down.
I soon began to cry. And when I say cry, I don't mean "a beautiful solitary tear fell across my cheek, splashing onto the floor". Nay. I sobbed. Wept. Dribbles of snot everywhere. That kind of a cry. I was furious as I cried too. I yelled (literally) at Jesus saying "Why aren't you saying anything?!!?!" I pounded the floor with my fists. I kicked, groaned, and trashed about like a beached whale. (Weird image, I know.) I yelled that I didn't understand what the heck He was doing. To put it plainly, I threw a temper tantrum...in front of the Lord. And I didn't care. I was so in the moment of honesty with Him, knowing He could handle my tantrum.
Now you probably are reading this with the image of me performing such an act in your head. You're probably thinking it looked pretty funny. And it probably did. But it was just me and Him. At one point, I even got up to stomp to the back of the Church for some tissues, wandering into the bathroom, barefoot like Brittany Spears, grabbing any toilet paper I could find and STOMPING UP THE AISLE BACK TO THE TABERNACLE. This was def-com 5 hissy fit action. Again, it looks hysterical in your head, huh?
Part of me is kind of embarrassed to say all of this, but I say it for one reason and one reason only....because it is the honest truth.
I sat and thrashed before my God. The God who has loved me, formed me in the Truth, spoken to me in Love and Truth, and yes, at times, said nothing at all. I sat on the floor at His feet and cried. Like a 4 year old. And do you know what happened next?
At first, nothing. I actually laid down on my side, curled in the fetal position, and gently wept until I calmed down. I breathed deeply to regulate my heartbeat and take a break. And then...then in the quiet part of my heart where I can remember being a kid and hearing His voice for the first time, He said "I love you and I've been there". Part of me didn't want to hear it. Sometimes we don't want to hear God. We want to sit in our stuff and stew, throw a pity party. But I heard Him, loud and clear. He said He loved me. He also later said that it was going to be okay and that he appreciated my honesty. I was afraid to be honest, but boy, did I lay into Him, knowing He could take it, accept it, love it and transform it.
It reminded me of being a kid. When I was in trouble, my parents had a "time out bench". This was no ordinary bench...it was actually an old church pew, uncomfortable and rigid, with some sort of hand made family heirloom doily; ugly. I can remember doing something stupid and being told, "you have to go to time-out". I would wail when I heard those fateful words, "time out". Once I made it to the dreadful bench, I would be told by my father that I would have to sit there for 5 minutes, which would make me cry even more. He also would say that the time didn't start until I stopped crying...which consequently would make me cry all the more. Eventually, I'd slow it down to a sniffle and eventually stop, then before I knew it, my time would be up and I would never ever ever want to be on the bench again.
The discipline of my father and the "bench" reminded me of how God sits while I throw a fit. In that moment in the chapel yesterday, I yelled and screamed and wondered aloud as to why all of this was happening and why He wasn't saying anything, but it wasn't until I shut up and was quiet, broken, open and vulnerable with my Father, that He clearly spoke to me.
(Side note, I realize that God speaks to all of us differently, so please don't think that I'm some mystic that God has chosen to speak to, this is just how the two of us work and that I've slowly been able to get out of the way and hear Him throughout my entire life. I bet a lot of you don't know that. Hence the "Listen in the Loo" title.)
To continue with the analogy and the story all together, my friend came into the Chapel, after receiving a text requesting the presence of a person from me, and upon seeing me, hugged me, helping me to see that God was there to comfort me with not just words but also with a physical manifestation of His love. My friend proceeded to listen to me explain what had been going on and they said, "Sometimes He does it for our own good"....kind of like when my parents would put me in time out for my own good, which, again, didn't start until I stopped crying.
The point of it all is this, honesty is the best policy especially with the One who Loves, who is Love. In the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Carmen tells Tibby that it's easy for her to get mad at her because she knows she'll still be there and love her. Isn't that true with love? When you know someone loves you, you aren't afraid that they'll leave when you're honest...if anything they'll be more apt to stick around. That doesn't just go for our relationships with others, but with God, because, after all, our love with others shines out to the world to show what the Love of God looks like. It's only appropriate.
Be honest with God today. If that means you don't say "Dear Jesus" or "Thou" or "Thine" when you go to pray and instead say "what's up", do it. If it means, you sit before Him and throw a hissy fit, do it. If it means you just sit there silent, do it. Go and be with Him....that's what prayer is. That's relationship. He is relationship...not a theory, not a formula, not a "thing" in the sky, but a Person...who just happens to love you. Surprise.
Love can handle anything. That's what I keep telling myself because God keeps telling me and I keep doing. It's hard, don't get me wrong, but it's worth it. Why would you love something that was just easy, when the things that are hard are always the best and most worth it. Honesty, selfless love. It's possible. It is REAL and undeniable when Love is made present and Love takes the temper tantrum and still loves.
I woke up and it seemed the whole wide world was stacked up against me. Granted, I had been traveling all day, crashed at 2 am, and woke up on a very uncomfortable pillow...all of this created the backdrop for a perfect storm. Do you ever wake up and things are already going not-so-great? Like, as soon as your feet hit the floor, you feel like pretty soon, your knees, hips, elbows and shoulders will hit the floor soon after? I'm not talking about feeling paralyzed here. It's a metaphor. Please keep up.
I went to the living room of my friends house where I was staying, and was already not in a great mood. Granted, I am not a very big morning person, but this was different. I sat down and shared with my friend how I was feeling, that I was mad...at God. It took guts to verbalize, but I did it. I began to cry, expressing that I hated being upset, hated confrontation with God and just wanted to love Him simply. My friend, the great friend that they are, said "let's go to the Chapel". You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone is right and something big is gonna happen?...this was one of those such times.
We drove to the Church, and I was dropped off at the Adoration Chapel, where, upon walking in and seeing about a dozen little old ladies praying piously, I realized that this was far too public an arena for me to be honest with God. I suspected tears would be flowing (since they were already welling up in my eyes) and really wanted some privacy. So I got my friend to unlock to Main Church and I stomped my way to the tabernacle and sat down.
I soon began to cry. And when I say cry, I don't mean "a beautiful solitary tear fell across my cheek, splashing onto the floor". Nay. I sobbed. Wept. Dribbles of snot everywhere. That kind of a cry. I was furious as I cried too. I yelled (literally) at Jesus saying "Why aren't you saying anything?!!?!" I pounded the floor with my fists. I kicked, groaned, and trashed about like a beached whale. (Weird image, I know.) I yelled that I didn't understand what the heck He was doing. To put it plainly, I threw a temper tantrum...in front of the Lord. And I didn't care. I was so in the moment of honesty with Him, knowing He could handle my tantrum.
Now you probably are reading this with the image of me performing such an act in your head. You're probably thinking it looked pretty funny. And it probably did. But it was just me and Him. At one point, I even got up to stomp to the back of the Church for some tissues, wandering into the bathroom, barefoot like Brittany Spears, grabbing any toilet paper I could find and STOMPING UP THE AISLE BACK TO THE TABERNACLE. This was def-com 5 hissy fit action. Again, it looks hysterical in your head, huh?
Part of me is kind of embarrassed to say all of this, but I say it for one reason and one reason only....because it is the honest truth.
I sat and thrashed before my God. The God who has loved me, formed me in the Truth, spoken to me in Love and Truth, and yes, at times, said nothing at all. I sat on the floor at His feet and cried. Like a 4 year old. And do you know what happened next?
At first, nothing. I actually laid down on my side, curled in the fetal position, and gently wept until I calmed down. I breathed deeply to regulate my heartbeat and take a break. And then...then in the quiet part of my heart where I can remember being a kid and hearing His voice for the first time, He said "I love you and I've been there". Part of me didn't want to hear it. Sometimes we don't want to hear God. We want to sit in our stuff and stew, throw a pity party. But I heard Him, loud and clear. He said He loved me. He also later said that it was going to be okay and that he appreciated my honesty. I was afraid to be honest, but boy, did I lay into Him, knowing He could take it, accept it, love it and transform it.
It reminded me of being a kid. When I was in trouble, my parents had a "time out bench". This was no ordinary bench...it was actually an old church pew, uncomfortable and rigid, with some sort of hand made family heirloom doily; ugly. I can remember doing something stupid and being told, "you have to go to time-out". I would wail when I heard those fateful words, "time out". Once I made it to the dreadful bench, I would be told by my father that I would have to sit there for 5 minutes, which would make me cry even more. He also would say that the time didn't start until I stopped crying...which consequently would make me cry all the more. Eventually, I'd slow it down to a sniffle and eventually stop, then before I knew it, my time would be up and I would never ever ever want to be on the bench again.
The discipline of my father and the "bench" reminded me of how God sits while I throw a fit. In that moment in the chapel yesterday, I yelled and screamed and wondered aloud as to why all of this was happening and why He wasn't saying anything, but it wasn't until I shut up and was quiet, broken, open and vulnerable with my Father, that He clearly spoke to me.
(Side note, I realize that God speaks to all of us differently, so please don't think that I'm some mystic that God has chosen to speak to, this is just how the two of us work and that I've slowly been able to get out of the way and hear Him throughout my entire life. I bet a lot of you don't know that. Hence the "Listen in the Loo" title.)
To continue with the analogy and the story all together, my friend came into the Chapel, after receiving a text requesting the presence of a person from me, and upon seeing me, hugged me, helping me to see that God was there to comfort me with not just words but also with a physical manifestation of His love. My friend proceeded to listen to me explain what had been going on and they said, "Sometimes He does it for our own good"....kind of like when my parents would put me in time out for my own good, which, again, didn't start until I stopped crying.
The point of it all is this, honesty is the best policy especially with the One who Loves, who is Love. In the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Carmen tells Tibby that it's easy for her to get mad at her because she knows she'll still be there and love her. Isn't that true with love? When you know someone loves you, you aren't afraid that they'll leave when you're honest...if anything they'll be more apt to stick around. That doesn't just go for our relationships with others, but with God, because, after all, our love with others shines out to the world to show what the Love of God looks like. It's only appropriate.
Be honest with God today. If that means you don't say "Dear Jesus" or "Thou" or "Thine" when you go to pray and instead say "what's up", do it. If it means, you sit before Him and throw a hissy fit, do it. If it means you just sit there silent, do it. Go and be with Him....that's what prayer is. That's relationship. He is relationship...not a theory, not a formula, not a "thing" in the sky, but a Person...who just happens to love you. Surprise.
Love can handle anything. That's what I keep telling myself because God keeps telling me and I keep doing. It's hard, don't get me wrong, but it's worth it. Why would you love something that was just easy, when the things that are hard are always the best and most worth it. Honesty, selfless love. It's possible. It is REAL and undeniable when Love is made present and Love takes the temper tantrum and still loves.
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