Hip Deep in Pie

Peace, Hope, Love, and Abundance

2011-12-27T21:09:00.005-05:00

"The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word." -Hebrews 1:3

If you're looking for hope, hope is with us

If you're searching for love, love is here

If you hunger for peace, peace is waiting

It is Heaven's gift and it is near.

You're ashamed of your past, yet He wants you

You've refused Him before, still He waits

You're afraid you will fail, but He'll help you

If you only take a step of faith.

Come to all you long for

Come to all you need

Come now and see,

Come receive God's only begotten Son -

Come.

My challenge to you is this: take a step of faith this year and go out on a limb with our Lord, into the life and purpose for which He created you. Ask Him. Listen for what He answers. And then go for it. Step into the center of His will for your life. Live for Him.

"I am come that they may have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." -Jesus, John 10:10

A Flight Risk

2011-12-14T21:58:00.005-05:00

"Everything that's worth doing, you're going to want to quit at least once." -my dad

So tell me this: were you ever just going about your business, trusting God with things, hum-diddly-um-dum...and then suddenly something opens up in front of you like a huge gaping maw of potential and your knee-jerk response is "Holy crap!" and all you want to do is turn around and flee as if your life depended on it?

No? Just me?

Up until now, I can't say I've ever really been much of a flight risk to the people in my life. I don't really bail on things. God (seriously, God) has put a tenacity in me causes people to literally have to shove me out and slam the door in my face if they want me out of their lives. And then, usually, I stand outside on the doorstep expectantly until they open it again.

But then, it happened - I found myself smack in the middle of a situation where I was stuck been gleeful excitement and pure, utter terror. I couldn't explain it, but I literally wanted to just run. Run out, get in my car, drive away, and never look back. It was a very new feeling for me.

And why?

Because I just kept thinking, "There's no way I can live up to this. I am SO not good enough." Over and over and over again. "Holy crap, I am SO not good enough!!"

And so, rather than step up and try, I wanted to flee.

But I didn't. For the record, I could have. For what I think was the first time in my life, I wanted to. Oh my gosh, but I wanted to just totally flake out. Sorry, Charlie, but I can't do it. That sounded like a much better idea than having all my shortcomings inevitably thrust under a spotlight - which, if I didn't run, they surely would be sometime in the very near future.

I knew, though, that'd I'd have been in, shall we say, very big cosmic trouble if I ran. See, that would have been pretty much the opposite of Respecting the Blessing. Spitting in God's face. Sneering at His gift. Rolling my eyes at His love towards me.

So I didn't. I stayed. Sometimes I felt like the hand of God was literally pinning me to the chair, but by Heaven, I stayed.

As I thought about it over next few days, suddenly a lot more of my life started to make sense. Why people often push me away or flee. Why people flake out on me. I admit - I often expect a lot. I invest all of myself and, apparently, that makes people feel guilty, like they have to do the same. Well, dang, no wonder they run. That's a lot to ask. Mind you, that's just who I am; I'm not asking anything of anyone else consciously. But now, I got it - because it got real up in that place quick, let me tell you.

The thing is, I am not a confident person. In fact, I'm probably the most insecure person you'll ever meet. (I try to make up for it with enthusiasm and witty comments.) Now, what is insecurity, really, but fear that you're just not good enough? Yep, that's me. I suspect that a lot of other people feel that way as well - we just don't talk about it. It's too deep. It's too much. It's something we don't want to admit to ourselves. So instead, we run. It's easier that way.

If I'm being honest, insecurity is probably my deepest-seeded sin, and one that constantly comes between me and God - and then me and the people I love. It's a maddening, vicious cycle, and I'm my own worst enemy. All the time. God and I, well, we're working on it.

I really wanted to run that day, but I couldn't. I knew it would have been a huge act of disobedience. I knew I couldn't have lived with myself. I would have allowed my own sin to ruin an incredible blessing God had given me - one I've actually been wishing for pretty much my whole life, in fact.

Now, wouldn't that have been a terrible shame?

28 Things*

2011-12-01T19:41:00.008-05:00

*Like "27 Dresses", but with less tulle.**

**But probably the same amount of cheesiness....if not more, let's be honest.

So, I turned the big, gulp, 2-9 last week. Climbed into the ride and strapped myself in for the last year of my 20's. The Last Hurrah. The Final Farewell. This is it, people.

I'm now the age of Jane Austen's oldest heroine...which, I suppose, means I have one more year during which to somehow Get It Right. Heaven only knows if that'll happen. Seriously - Heaven. Only. Knows.

But I figure, I must have learned something throughout this past year, right? Goodness, here's hoping. To that end, I decided to make a list. I admit that some of these span slightly further back than a year ago, but not too much - this past year was pretty darn eventful.

And so, in pretty close to chronological order, here are 28 Things I Learned During Year 28.

1. Real smiles are the best ever.

2. Apparently, I act blond sometimes. But shhh - when it makes someone laugh, it's intentional.

3. When God points out someone for me to minister to with a cosmic neon sign, pretending I don't see it is just prolonging the inevitable.

4. My emotions display themselves unashamedly spread-eagled on my face no matter how hard I try to hide them. Every time.

5. It's possibly not a coincidence that it rains every. single. time I step foot onto the campus of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. I'm just saying - my hair NEVER looks right at that place!

6. What I dislike in other people often directly correlates with what I dislike about myself.

7. God actually really does know what He's doing. I know, shocker.

8. I sang "It Is Well With My Soul" as a duet with my best friend on Good Friday and it was possibly the purest, most raw form of emotion in art I've ever expressed.

9. Just being me produces far better results than huffing and puffing and striving to be someone else.

10. I got my first paid writing gig this year, writing ad copy for websites. While it was great to be paid to write, and I wouldn't sneeze at doing it again...it kind of felt a little bit what I'd imagine prostitution would feel like. Not that I know. Because I don't. Really! Wait, what was I talking about again?

11. What Any Sane Woman Would Do is never what I do.

12. When God closes a door, He opens...oh, wait, you know that one already? Well, it's totally true.

13. God is not, in fact, turning men celibate to keep me single...although for a brief period this summer, it really felt that way. More on that later. Good story, actually.

14. To get anywhere, I have to give 100%. Not 70%. Not 80%. Not even 90%. Even though I've gotten away with it in the past...no more. Everything God gives me deserves 100% of my effort and commitment.

15. The jackpot is totally, incredibly, fantastically awesome. Every single time, in fact.

16. Every person you really love will make you cry. I often think about how many times I've made God cry. It knocks the wind out of me.

17, When God blesses you, humility and maturity are the best resources. Otherwise, people get bitter. People get bitter anyway, but it's harder to be jealous when the person you're jealous of is gracious. Hopefully.

18. During an agent/customer role-playing game at my corporate call center job training, after hearing me be the "agent," all the men in the training class exclaimed, "Whew! I'm buying whatever you're selling!" That pretty much made my...well, up until now, really. And that was two months ago.

19. Shhh - I'm not a hardcore salesperson. But I am an actress.

20. My favorite thing ever (which I knew before this year, but still) is, once I get to know someone, letting them see a little more who I really am by saying things that shock them. That shocked, incredulous laughter is the best thing ever.

21. Three words: Respect. The. Blessing.

22. I am no longer a Renaissance Faire virgin. But, unsurprisingly, I'll be better prepared and even more, ahem, in character next year.

23. When your pastor calls you Bridget Jones, well, that's pretty much your sign.

24. The fact that so many people I've met over the last few years have opened up to me, confided in me, shared with me, let me pray with them, and have come to me as their spiritual point of contact is at once overwhelmingly humbling and incredibly gratifying. My Lord is so good. All the spiritual bottom-kicking I've taken this last decade is starting to bear some amazing fruit. It's all Him.

25. However, I am not a spiritual Yoda, not by a long shot. I need just as much Godly succor as anyone else. And someone to keep my head on straight...pretty much all the time, in fact.

26. Christian Scientists are all really, really nice people.

27. There is a huge difference between someone for whom you feel like you have to be better and someone because of whom you want to be a better version of yourself.

28. Five words from a fake nun were the biggest cosmic cream-pie I've experienced yet.

That's my wisdom from this year, folks. I hope it spoke to you in the way you needed it to most. Tune in next year as I begin a new decade - and hopefully, I will have learned even more from the incredible things my Lord is about to do in the next 350-odd days left of this one!

Quit Yer Wailing!

2011-11-28T22:33:00.003-05:00

My toy poodle does this really annoying thing when I take her in the car with me: whenever I put the car in park and turn the key to shut the engine off, she SHRIEKS and WAILS and YELPS as if she's being brutally murdered. Every. Single. Time.

Why? Well, I can only assume it's because she's afraid I'm going to leave her in the car alone. FOREVER!

Meanwhile, of course, I've never done that. I always jump right out and get her out of the car with me. If I do leave her there, I run into a store for maybe five minutes. She's never alone for long, and she's never in danger. Ever. I've established a pattern and level of trust with her now that she really shouldn't be scared anymore. She knows I'm not going to leave her. She knows I'm always going to either get her out or come right back to her.

And yet still, every time, she yelps and cries and wails.

As I pulled into our parking lot after walking with a friend and turned off the car's ignition to the familiar chorus of her shrieking in fear again tonight, it startled me into realizing...how often do we do that with God?

How often do we shriek and cry and wail and whine at God when we know He'll never leave us or fail us? It hit me with a wave of shame tonight that I do it all the time. I'm doing it now, actually. Wandering around wailing to God, "Daddy! DADDY! Daddy, please! Please don't leave me alone in the car! DADDY! DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU PUT ME IN THE CAR; DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HERE! PLEASE!!"

Fact is, He's never left me alone in the car. And if it's felt that way, it's only been for a few minutes. He always comes back. He always comes through. He always knows what He's doing. I'm never really in danger. Ever.

Every time this happens, I say to Lottie, "Shhh, little girl! I would never leave you! Don't you trust me?"

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. -Proverbs 3:5

Um. Yeah. Oops.

I stand in spiritual humility as a direct result of shrieks from my poodle. And there's a sentence I bet you don't read every day.

Holding the Line

2011-11-22T07:35:00.003-05:00

So, when I'm not frantically scribbling things in my writing notebook, or flinging myself on the floor wailing at the wide-eyed volunteer actors at my church to "GIVE ME MORE!!", or scheming up my next pratfall to elicit a laugh from someone...I'm sitting in a cubicle at a very large company, using my sweet pixie voice to convince customers to purchase the services the company sells. No, I'm not a telemarketer. Ahem. But yes, indeed, I'm a salesperson.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with a customer who was interested in possibly ordering one of our services. I'd done the work. I'd put in the time. We'd gone over all the pros and cons, all the features and benefits, even what my company's competitors offered. I really believed that from what the customer was telling me he needed, our service was the best fit for him. I'm not peddling junk here. Plus, I made him laugh a few times, which seemingly always helps.

But he was still a little waffly. As they are.

Customer: I still want to think about it a little bit. Can I call back and get you?

Me: Unfortunately, probably not, sir.

Him: But if I buy this, I want to buy it from you!

Me: I appreciate that! I'm sorry.

Him: Hmm. I'm just not sure.

Me: Sir, if you like, I'm happy to hold while you think about it for a minute. I want you to make the best decision.

Him: You can hold on?

Me: Sure! Take your time, I'll be right here.

Him: You're very persistent.

Me: Hopefully in a good way!

Him: *laughs* Yes, in a good way!

Thirty seconds later, he bought the service from me. He even paid upfront - and that hardly ever happens.

Metaphor for life, people. I'm just saying.

A Man with a Plan

2011-11-20T07:33:00.002-05:00

"Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then." -Mr. Bennet, "Pride and Prejudice"

As I've mentioned before, right now I'm working on being a heroine and waiting for my hero. That is, I'm a (not-quite-thirty-something) Bridget Jones waiting for Mark Darcy to knock on my door and say things like "I like you, very much, just the way you are." Even better - the Harry to my Sally who will finally come running in my direction and declare, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." Or, y'know, his own version of that sentiment. I'm all for creative liberties.

What I'm learning, though, is that the man I'm looking for is going to need to be more than just hanging out - and about God, even more than just about me. The kind of relationship that God has been preparing me for for years is the Real Deal. The purposeful, Christ-centered, really investing, sacrificial, ministry-minded, leading-to-marriage kind of relationship. A partnership to edify the other person and ultimately bring glory to God through our union. And for that, I'm going to need a man who knows what it means to be, well, all of those things - basically, who has a plan. The plan of being obedient to God when He speaks.

As I've personally learned in many a trial-by-fire situation throughout my twenties, that kind of spiritual maturity doesn't come easy. Work has to be done. You have to wander through the wilderness with God to get to the other side - and more than just once or twice.

You can't be Moses without climbing up Mt. Sinai.

You can't be David without gathering the stones.

You can't be Paul without getting on a donkey pointed towards Damascus. (Okay, bad example.)

What I'm saying is, to win the joust, you have to actually pick up the lance and get on the horse. Maybe not in that order.

See, now, I know I'm, um, unique. I know I'm a lot to handle. I know I'm pretty much dynamite packed into a tiny, 4'10" curly redheaded package. It's been that way my whole life. The general consensus I've heard from several sweet young men now is, "You're not like other girls." I take it as a compliment. But even so, what ultimately tends to happen is that men take an interest, get close to me, and come to realize that they're not quite ready for me yet.

It can be maddening, especially when the man has a razor-sharp wit that I have to run to keep up with and a laugh I'd voluntarily do pratfalls for just to hear again. Really, Lord?

And the answer I get back from God is, "Shhh. Just trust Me."

I don't know how long it will take. I don't know who it will finally be. God won't tell me. But I will say this: when God spoke to me about this during one of my own many wilderness periods, back in London in 2006, one of the things He said was, "It will be hard, but it will be worth it."

He wasn't lying about the first part. So I'm pretty sure the second part will be true, too.

In the meantime...pratfalls can be lots of fun if you know how to do them well. And you all know, I don't do anything halfway.

When the Dealing's Done

2011-11-06T00:10:00.003-04:00

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom will I send? Who will go for us?" And I said, "Here I am. Send me!" -Isaiah 6:8

So, here's the thing about me: I don't do things halfway.

(I may have mentioned this previously, in fact.)

What I mean is, when I invest in someone, as in for real invest in them, it's more than just cooking what they like to eat and finding out what makes them laugh. That's just what I'll admit to. But it's so very much more than that, what God calls me to do when He plants someone in front of me to invest my emotions and prayers into. Behind the closed doors of my church when I steal inside to worship alone, in the darkness of the hours before bed when I'm laying everything out in front of Him, in the songs I play in my car and on my lunch break at work when I hide behind the building and meet my Lord there. Praying for God's will, for that person's relationship with Him, for direction and clarity and blessing and love and purpose and strength. Praying as God has spent the last ten years teaching me how.

Recently, in one of the most unexpected turn of events in my life thus far, God planted someone new in front of me in whom to invest. Getting to know this person has been an absolutely incredible adventure so far, and I can't wait for more.

This time, though, I hadn't really been investing the way I should've been.

Why, you ask?

Well, it's simple: because I was afraid.

Investing in someone like this, like God has me do, is a lot of work. It's exhausting. It's emotional. Also, up until now, it's ended with God using me in that role for a season and then saying, "OK, now it's over." (I always end up seeing His timing and will perfectly afterwards, but the whole process can be a humdinger.) And right now, I have no idea what God's will is, so I was just sort of spiritually...chilling. Just hanging out. Going with the flow.

If you know me at all, your reaction to that last sentence was probably "Ha!" And you'd be right.

Because that's not me at all. It's not in my nature. If I'm acting that way, that's fear. And where is fear from?

Oh yeah. Not God. Not in the least bit.

Yet, still, I was afraid. I was hedging my bets. Not really ready to lay my cards on the table. That's right - I was playing poker...with God.

Yeah.

But then (because there's always a "but then" with me and God, right?) - I visited a new church a few nights ago. One of the members shared with everyone that his father always used to say, "Either get out early or commit to see it through and give it your all. Don't do anything halfway."

Well, bugger.

Immediately, this happened:

God: *raises eyebrow*

Me: *ignoring*

God: Ahem.

Me: ...

God: AHEM.

Me: What?

God: Did you hear that?

Me: Yes...

God: Well?

Me: What's Your point?

God: You know what My point is.

Me: But I don't know what Your WILL is!

God: So?

Me: So...I'm trying to do Your will!

God: No you're not. You know what you're supposed to be doing, and you're not doing it!

Me: But...but...I didn't know...

God: Don't you get it? What you're really saying is that you won't step up until I say yes.

Me: I...what?

God: You're holding out on Me.

Me: No, I'm not!

God: Yes, you are! Is that really how you're going to treat this incredible blessing I've given you?

Me: No, Daddy! I didn't mean to...

God: And anyway...why should I say yes before I know you'll say yes?

Me: But...I...

God: You should know by now that's not the way it works, my dear.

No, that's not the way it works.

And so, this is me, laying my cards on the table. Stepping up. Here we go. No matter what God's will is in the end, I have to invest for the time He's called me to it. I don't have a choice. But I can do so confidently, because I know He'll be there to catch me no matter what happens.

Because ultimately, more than anything else, His glory is, and always has to be, first.

Here I am, Lord. Use me.

The Green Paper and the White Horse

2011-09-21T20:30:00.004-04:00

As a girl who's still waiting for her Prince Charming to drop to one knee with a diamond ring in his outstretched hand, I've had a lot of time to think and learn about relationships. And, as a girl (er, woman?) several years out of college and my parents' house, I've thus had several years now of trying to make it on my own.

Finally, after years of struggling, two months ago, God blessed me with a great job in a growing company that promises security and opportunity and ample rewards for my hard work. It's incredible, really. I wake up every morning with praises on my tongue as I drive to work.

But as I position myself to really begin what appears to, at last, be my career - at least the first part of it - I can't help but wonder: am I shooting myself in the foot when it comes to relationships?

As I've watched others get into relationships, engagements, and marriages, I often see the earning of money being heartily shouldered by the husband. I've heard phrases from women like "He just wants me to make enough to pay for gas" and "I'm so happy he only wants me to supplement what he earns." It's made me wonder: is that what men want?

What I'm really asking is: is being self-sufficient a turn-off? Do I need, instead, to be a damsel in distress? Do men want to be able to ride in and save a woman who can't take care of herself in order to really feel like a man?

Now, I've never really been much of a "career woman" in the classic sense - in the sense of blind ambition, money-hunger, and choosing one's career over one's family - not in the slightest. I have passions, and drive, and yes, ambition, but it's not because I want to be the CEO or to puncture the glass ceiling with my Manolo Blahniks. (That's a designer shoe, gentlemen.) I want to minister. I want to use the gifts God has given me to share His love with others. I want to do what I love, and love what I do, and show His love everywhere I am, no matter where that is.

But yes, also...I want to be able to make a living.

My parents worked hard to provide well for me and my sister. We've never wanted for anything. Because of their drive, we went to good colleges. We have cars. We never have to worry that we'll be homeless or hungry. In these frustrating years after college that I've been struggling, I have had the security of knowing that my parents will always be there for me with not only emotional but also financial support. It has been an incredible blessing, and I want to be able to provide that same security for my own family, if God blesses me with children of my own. If the economy is this bad now, what will it be like in 10 years? 20? 40? I shudder to think.

So, to that end, and also because I'm a grown woman and I need to, I work. I work hard, with God's help and grace. I praise God for the opportunities given to me, and I show Him respect by taking advantage of them. I want to advance in my new company. I want to make a career, a living, out of this job that I've been given - unless or until God calls me to something else. I don't want to be an albatross around my future husband's neck; I want to be someone he can rely on throughout his life rather than yet another burden for him to shoulder. What if he loses his job? What if the worst happens? I believe that being a help-meet means not just being an assistant, but a partner.

But does that attitude, and that ability, and my new job and career, make me less attractive to a man who wants to gallop in on his white horse and save me?

I hope not.

Because here's the thing: I still need a man to be my hero. I need him to be strong in the Lord, a spiritual leader in our home. I need him to claim the Biblical authority he is meant to and be fully committed to the well-being of our family. I need him to be close enough to Jesus that he listens to Him about everything. I will need him to help teach our children, to minister to our elderly parents, and to help guide our lives in such a way that will constantly bring us further into God's will.

I need him to be strong enough to be able to handle the strong-willed woman I am.

As I was thinking about all this, about being a Christian woman and working and what does that mean?, I got the bright idea to, duh, go to the Bible. Here's what I found:

A wife of noble character who can find?

She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night. -Proverbs 31:10-18

Well, then. I think I'll pretty much just keep doing what I've been doing.

If you want the truth, ultimately, my goal is to live in such a way, in all areas of my life, that 30 years from now, my husband will say to our children, "I praise God that I was lucky enough to marry your mother."

When The Shoe Doesn't Fit

2011-09-06T14:37:00.005-04:00

Anyone remember this post, about the lovely pink Nine West sandals I had my eye on back in the spring?

I waited and waited, and sure enough, they went on sale. When I checked back in at Nine West a few weeks ago, they were an incredible 75% off. That's more like it! So I excitedly asked to try them on. I expected it to be a shoe love affair that would last for a cork-heeled lifetime.

But...no.

Mind you, I've been wearing heels for well nigh on 15 years now. I know how to carry myself in platforms. But when I slipped my feet into those sandals that looked so perfect on the shelf and took a step, I nearly toppled forward and landed nose-to-Nine-West-floor. I could barely even hobble around in them - the arch was too high, the angle was wrong.

I couldn't believe it. Those sandals that I'd thought would be so perfect...weren't.

I handed them back to the salesclerk forlornly. It wouldn't have made sense to buy them.

But then, a few days later, I was in a discount shoe store with a friend, and, amidst the clearance rack of uninspiring flats and end-of-season flip flops, in the last place I expected to find a pair of sandals that would delight me like the pink ones...I saw them.

A gorgeous shade of green. High heels. Similar to the Nine West sandals, but better than I could have imagined. Perfect, really. And best of all, they were about the cost of a Happy Meal.

I tried them on. Despite being a size too big normally, they actually fit! I couldn't believe it.

They came home with me that very day.

It just goes to show...when God says no to what you thought you wanted, more than likely, He's getting ready to bless you with something even better.

Cosmically Cream-Pied: My Suffering For His Glory

2011-08-15T22:54:00.004-04:00

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." -1 Corinthians 10:31

I think one of the most difficult concepts to grasp about God, not only for non-Christians but for Christians, too, is that He does everything for His glory. When you know God as Abba, Daddy, creator and lover of your soul, it’s hard to understand that He would do anything else besides pet you and snuggle on you and give you balloon animals to play with. Which, don’t get me wrong, He’s pretty good at that sort of thing – the grace, the unconditional love, and the peace that passes all understanding. He’s there when you need Him and He’s the only one who will never, ever fail you.

But He still does everything for His glory.

And if you ask in earnestness to be used by God, He will, in fact, use you for that very purpose.

It was March of this year. I had just started at a new job. I was one of six women in my department - the youngest, the most naive, the quietest. It was my fourth job in a year and I was burned out. But if there was anything I’d learned in that year, it was that when God put me in a job, there was always, always someone He wanted me to connect with and minister to, to love on, and in doing so, show His love. I mean, obviously we’re meant to do that with everyone, but God usually had specific people in mind when He planted me in a new job. This time was no different.

But this time, darn it, I didn’t really want to.

I knew from the moment I met her what God wanted from me. It was as if there were a big neon sign pointing down from Heaven saying “Here she is - show her you know Me.” Bright. Blinking. Obvious as a neon sign can be. But it wasn’t going to be at all as simple as marching up and saying “Hi, I love Jesus, how about you?”

She was a veteran, having been at the job for over thirty years. Have I mentioned I was the newbie? The temp? The young wide-eyed innocent, like a sticky-fingered kindergartener trying to learn to sail the boat she’d been captaining for years?

I knew what God wanted. But I was weary. Frustrated at the uncertainty of still being a temp, exhausted with my new schedule and my 45-minute commute, overwhelmed with the newness of my responsibilities. I wanted to take a pass. I just wanted to come in, work, make my pittance of an hourly wage, and go home and collapse. My life was tumultuous enough anyway, and God certainly knew it. Believe me, I reminded Him regularly.

But there it was. The neon sign. Blinking. Unmistakable.

For two months, I tried to ignore it. For two months, I inched around her quietly, keeping to myself, trying not to be too much trouble. Even though, all along, God was saying “Ahem” and throwing out no small amount of pointed stares and even more pointed fingers.

Yet I kept quiet.

And then something happened that sent everything shattering down around me: for the third time in my life, I got my heart really broken.

Now, much as I try not to, I usually wear my heart centered very visibly on my sleeve. In the evenings, I nursed my broken heart by watching Bridget Jones’ Diary on repeat with whitener on my teeth while obsessing about ways to (organically!) enhance the redness of my hair and whining ad nauseum to my very obliging male friends. But during the day, under the fluorescent lights of my office, I couldn’t hide it. I couldn’t wipe the “I’ve-been-hit-by-a-mack-truck” expression off my face, and my coworker immediately noticed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.

And so, instead of deigning to obey God for months before, now, I just went to mush. I told her the whole story, poured out my misery and confusion and general wretchedness. She listened and sympathized and offered me grace and encouragement. And then she shared with me some of her own heartbreak, and I responded in kind. We connected not on a level of here, let me minister to you but we’re both broken and need our Lord to heal us.

That afternoon, after we’d so deeply connected, I sent her what I thought was the simplest of gestures - my favorite Pslam in an email. As I was on the phone with a customer, she came over and hugged me, crying. She said it meant so much to her, and she printed it out and pinned it up at her desk. From that day on, she began calling me her “angel” - the person who connected her to God.

There is no way in the world that I will ever take credit for that. But my goodness, was it humbling.

One week later, I was moved to a different team, on a different floor. And three weeks after that, we all lost our jobs. I didn’t know then, but it had been my last chance to do what God had been prodding me to do for months.

God does everything for His glory. He let my heart be broken - for His glory. He let me be miserable and wretched and confused and flailing - for His glory. He knew that it would break down the wall and get accomplished what He wanted to get accomplished. I’d asked Him to use me, and He did.

And you know what is so unbelievable to me? That day, the day of tears and shortness of breath and the world spinning and nothing making sense, when my sweet, precious coworker called me her angel and shared with me the kind of heartbreak she’d been through, I went into the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, and thanked God for letting it happen. For letting me get my heart broken. Because more than anything else, I realized, I want to show His glory, too.

The Post-Collegiate and the Restless

2011-06-13T16:24:00.003-04:00

For all of you who are older than 25 but not yet firmly entrenched in the minivan-driving, late-night-feeding, extracurricular-activity-juggling stages of your lives, those of you who left the hallowed walls of your undergraduate institution anywhere from, say, three to fifteen years ago…do you remember what it used to be like?

When I was in college, I certainly didn’t view it as the best time of my life. Actually, I viewed it as pretty much an extension of high school with a bigger cafeteria and more papers to write. I was still not part of the “in crowd” – only now, the “in crowd” was made up of the theater and music kids who looked warily at a writing major with the hairy eyeball similar to that of zebras sizing up an antelope trying to fit into the herd. Nobody cared that I loved directing or that I’d done it in high school to great fanfare in my tiny hometown. My hair was still frizzy. I still couldn’t find my budding pubescent ideal of a suitably artistic, poetry-reading, brooding boyfriend to save my soul. (There’s probably more than one reason for that, by the way, but I digress.) I still bought my jeans in the juniors’ section and my makeup from Wal-Mart. It was all just a bit of a letdown in the “I can’t wait to get out of this cow town because I’ll FIT IN when I go to college, dagnabbit!” department.

I wasn’t popular. I didn’t like swigging beer out of a red plastic cup amidst cigarette smoke and bad rap music in a frat house living room. I didn’t really fit in anywhere, much as I tried. (This is a pattern that I’ve found has stuck with me up until this very moment.)

In my now late-twenties wisdom, I’ve deduced that we usually can’t see the forest for the trees until we’re at least a few years out of the forest.

But despite all that, in college, my goodness, did we think. And why did we think? Well, largely, because we read.

There was a time when I could tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Regency-era and Victorian British literature and how those characters mirrored and related to life. I knew what I thought about stuff, like how you can’t teach someone to write, you can only teach someone to write like you, which I subconsciously channeled on a weekly basis to my writing professors as they ripped apart my short stories in workshop class. My friends and I took honors classes called “Thought,” “Thought and Civilization,” and “Thought and Social Sciences” (only at an expensive liberal arts school, I’ll tell you), where I was introduced to topics such as racism, gender equality, sexual stereotyping, and a host of other controversial subjects that had never even been brought up in my small-town high school. I had to defend – and thus further examine and delve deeper into – my faith. No longer was I a rebel because my family were Democrats; now, I was different because I was far more conservative than most of my classmates.

Because of these classes, my friends and I sat around and talked. We debated. We discussed. We read. We wrote. We thought. We engaged with each other intellectually and emotionally in a way I’ve not really experienced before or since. While the year I spent in England pursuing my Master’s degree in screenwriting was the most creatively challenging of my life, it still wasn’t the same as the years I spent thinking about the meaning of life with my fellow, largely clueless – because, let’s face it, we were 20 – undergraduate companions.

And now…what? Now, we’re all a little older, we’ve lived a little more. Our faith and wills and strength and work ethics and loyalties have been tested. Largely, we’re much more qualified to talk about the meaning of life after having, y’know, lived it a bit than we were when we sat in our dorm rooms digesting bad cafeteria food and sticking toothpicks into Peeps to recreate the Arthurian legend for fun on a Friday night.

But we don’t.

It’s been coming on me in ever-increasing stages. The ennui. The listlessness. The feeling that snickering little elves are sneaking into my grown-up apartment every night and sliding past my toy poodle at the foot of the bed to suck my brain out through tiny straws and replace it with a cardboard cutout of itself.

Now, the hot debate between me and my grown-up friends is which flavor of Sunchips is the best, or which grocery store is running the most deals this week. Did you know that high-energy washers and dryers can cut down 60% of your utility bills for a family of four? If you’re interested, a friend of mine can rattle off sales tax percentages in five different states. A couple years ago, for about a month until we got preoccupied with silly things like paying rent, my best friend from college and I became accountability partners to make sure we were both actively reading books and not just the nutritional information on food packaging. The last time I inquired if someone liked Jane Austen, the answer I got was, “Well, I liked the movies.”

Has it really come to this?

My turning point came this weekend when I (very temporarily) forgot that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley had written Frankenstein and could not without the aid of Google remember who had written Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, both of which I wrote papers on in college. I felt humiliated in front of my also well-educated friend on the other end of the phone line. I am smart, I swear! If my favorite professor could see me now, I dread to think what his reaction would have been. I totally shamed him.

That was it. It was the end.

I might not be the most glamorous, or most effervescent, or (gasp) the wittiest girl all the time, and even though I long ago mastered how to properly curl my hair, one step in the rain or humidity will be my undoing…but I know my literature, thank you very much.

An hour after that ill-fated Google search, I was nose-to-binding in the library. An hour after that, I was lugging a stack of seven books through the front door of my grown-up-apartment (the most I could comfortably carry out by myself).

Since Saturday afternoon, I’ve devoured two of those books. So far.

And let me tell you, friends, this is just the beginning.

The Kiss that Stopped the Music

2011-06-10T00:35:00.003-04:00

I'm a couple weeks late on posting this, but it was just today that I found a video of it online, and, as the old saying goes, a picture's worth a thousand words. My meager rambling couldn't do it justice, so I refrained from writing about it until I could show it. Until now.

As I've written before, I'm a bona-fide, unashamed Gleek, mostly because of these two characters. Some of the histrionics the other characters and plot lines can be off putting at times; but sappy, ridiculous, and controversial or not, this show does emotion, depth, and love well - and not just between these two characters, either. (The relationship between Kurt and Burt Hummell is a prime example.) But these two are my favorites.

Finn, the down-home country boy with the inexplicable charisma and the heart of gold who isn't afraid to stand up for what he believes in - and even sing about it. Rachel, the over-the-top drama queen bound for Broadway who encourages Finn to step up and grow up. Finn teaches Rachel lessons about grace and selflessness. Rachel inspires Finn to be a better man.

Their relationship has always been more than just friendship but not always quite true love - Finn had to get closure from his ex-girlfriend (Quinn) and while he was waffly, Rachel got distracted by another musician (Jesse). But for weeks and weeks during the second season, while Finn was back together with Quinn, hordes of Gleeks all over the country have been crying out "Team Rachel!" as we've seen that these two are just not quite right when they're not together.

And then, the week before the season finale, during a funeral, Finn (finally) has a moment of self-realization, which leads him to break up with Quinn. He realizes he wants to be with Rachel.

To make an hour-long episode story short, they all go to New York for the national show choir championship. This is Finn and Rachel's song together.

It's glorious. It's perfect. It's epic. The song, the kiss, everything. It's the kiss that stopped the music.

We grown-ups in the audience know that it doesn't end when the curtain drops. Real life will set in, even amidst the most scripted, storybook tale of love stories. But for just one brief shining moment, all the girls who have a little bit of Rachel in us can grasp onto the hope that, if we haven't yet, one day we'll have a kiss that stops the music, too.

REMIND you of anyone?!

2011-05-23T14:08:00.002-04:00

Something epically wonderful happened this weekend.

"What?!" you ask. Did I win the lottery? Did I finally get a cute, smart, Jesus-loving boyfriend who thinks I'm hilarious? Did the rapture happen and I'm typing this from inside my certainly purple-walled mansion in Heaven?

Well, no.

BUT!

Last night, a lovely and sweet and precious and VERY SMART friend of mine was visiting and helped me accomplish something I've been wanting to do for well nigh on three years now: he set up my computer so I can use my not-too-shabbily-sized TV as a monitor.

Which means...

...wait for it...

...because everything's always better when you have to wait for it...

...and then it finally happens...

...(or so I've been told)...

...yes, that's right, ladies and gentleman - I CAN NOW WATCH CRAIG FERGUSON'S MONOLOGUES FROM BACK IN 2005 AND ONWARD (which I found years ago archived on a website surely sent to me by my loving, generous Lord) ON MY TELEVISION SCREEN.

OH, MY GOODNESS. FLAIL. AND FLAIL SOME MORE.

As my sort-of-sister and fellow redheaded bestie Kayla often says...CAPSLOCK FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.

Here's a little preview - one of my favorite monologues of Craig's EVER. It's from 2008, and if you know me at all I've probably already, ahem, strongly coerced you into watching this, but no one's complained yet!

I KNOW, RIGHT?

Also, I should advise: if you know me in real life and you visit me anytime within the next few weeks, be prepared for me to plant you on my big comfy couch and strongly coerce you to watch several of Craig's early monologues with me. It going to happen. It's just a fact. You've been warned. But I'll also feed you - probably cake! - so, y'know...six-a-one. Cake and comedy and my cute dog - there are far worse ways to spend an evening, I assure you.

The Hole in the Heart, Indeed

2011-05-19T13:58:00.004-04:00

It's been a week.

One whole, long, dreadful week.

Seven gloomy, cloud-over-everything days since the precious and precocious squintern Vincent Nigel-Murray was brutally gunned down by that vicious, despicable sniper on Bones.

I still can't believe it.

All right, so, yes. I admit it. I'm an Anglophile. I'm also a Geekophile. And let's be honest - brilliant, adorable actor Ryan Cartwright made Vincent Nigel-Murray just about as endearing as could be. For his blinding intelligence, social awkwardness, posh accent, over-the-top enthusiasm, and everything else that made him the ineffable Mr. Nigel-Murray, he was my favorite character on television right now, and, arguably, ever.

Every Thursday, I'd excitedly turn on Bones to see if he was on that night. I loved his wit, his glibness, his factoids, his charm. His smile was infectious and his childlike wonder irresistible. What can I say? He made me happy.

Now, I may perchance get too involved with television shows, but when that bullet the size of the Eiffel Tower that could have easily taken down an actual dinosaur ripped into his chest and he lay in a pool of blood begging for his life, well, I lost it like nobody's business.

It might be sappy to admit all this, but his death really got to me. I totally went through the five stages of grief for Vincent. It really hit me in the shower last Friday. I got angry. I kept thinking, why? WHY?? They can't just do this! They can't just up and change things. They can't just take him away from me. He made me happy! It's not fair!!

(Now, there may be an ever-so-slight chance that the strength of my reaction is about more than just a television character, but I am choosing not to focus on that right now. Ahem.)

Turns out, the actual reason it happened isn't so tragic at all - the amazingly talented Ryan Cartwright got his own show, Alphas, on Syfy. It's set to premiere on July 11th. I'm cable-less at the moment, but I've got to find a way to watch. I'm nothing if not a loyal -phile!

Bones creator Hart Hanson said that they'd known about Ryan's departure for awhile, so they had to work it into the show's storyline somehow. He said that Vincent was a well-loved character, "so we decided to kill him for the heartbreak."

WELL GEE, THANKS SO MUCH THERE, MR. HANSON. I REALLY APPRECIATE IT. THAT WAS JUST WHAT I NEEDED, LET ME TELL YOU.

The hole in the heart, indeed.

RIP, Vincent Nigel-Murray. You will be deeply, sorely missed. And Ryan Cartwright, you are an incredible actor and you deserve all the success in the world. I know you'll be phenomenal on Alphas, and I can't wait to watch!

Easier.

2011-05-16T16:02:00.002-04:00

It's easier to be disappointed than to be forgiving.

It's easier to wait than to move on.

It's easier to return to what you know than take a risk on what you don't.

It's easier to stay home than to dress up and go out.

It's easier to be complacent than to grow up.

It's easier to talk to your dog for an hour than to talk to a stranger for half of one.

It's easier to be in the audience than to be onstage.

It's easier to blame the circumstances than to take ownership.

It's easier to retreat than to advance.

It's easier to be comfortable than to be challenged.

It's easier to keep the boat steady than to tip it over.

It's so much easier to do...what's easier.

Saturday Morning Teatime: Team Rachel

2011-05-07T12:08:00.002-04:00

Happy May Day!

2011-05-01T20:44:00.003-04:00

It's here, it's here...that shocking time of year...yet again!

Happy May Day, everyone!

And then, it all made sense.

2011-04-24T14:44:00.004-04:00

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. -John 20:1-8

Three days later.

Three days after their best friend, their leader, their messiah, their everything...died.

Dead. Gone. Wrapped. Sealed. Not coming back. It was over.

Everything they'd ever believed in died right in front of them.

Towels thrown in. Fat lady singing. Nothing to see here, boys. That's it.

For three days.

Three days of confusion, terror, and heartbreak.

But then...then.

A stone rolled away. Folded grave clothes. An empty tomb.

And then it all made sense.

Because He didn't stay dead.

He was risen!

He was back. He was very much alive. He is very much alive. Because of Him, we have life. We have forgiveness. We have freedom.

Because He's alive, we have forever.

Saturday Morning Teatime: A Strange Darkness

2011-04-23T00:03:00.003-04:00

It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last. -Luke 23:44-46

When Jesus died, the whole Earth was plunged into darkness - literally and figuratively.

No one could see.

Nothing made sense.

Jesus was supposed to be their savior.

But He was dead.

Everything was dark.

Black.

Confusing.

Unknown.

Have you ever felt that way?

Where am I? What happened? How could this happen?

This doesn’t fit with everything else God said.

I don’t understand.

Is this really the way the story ends?

But it’s not. We know the story.

All we have to do is give it a day or two.

30 Going on 13

2011-04-19T09:13:00.001-04:00

It really started in junior high. As a 4’7” painfully scrawny, be-speckled and braces-clad principal’s daughter who hadn’t grown into her red curls or out of children’s clothes and was more interested in Shakespeare than snogging boys, I knew what it was to be teased and ostracized. Every day was a circus sideshow act of name-calling, pitying looks, and ridicule. So I got tough. I got good at not caring and letting it roll off me like water off a duck’s back. When girls brayed at me like a donkey in the hallway, “imitating” my singing ability, I’d look them straight in the eye and deadpan, “I’m sorry, do you have something in your throat? Cause you might want to have that checked out.”

That attitude carried me through high school and even into my early college years. I was hard as nails. Disappointing, heart wrenching betrayals by so-called friends and my first real love only hardened me more. I lived up to the redheaded temper stereotype and was proud to do it. I was fiercely loyal to people I loved, but break my trust once, and we were done. Look twice at the boy I was interested in, and it was all-out war. I sussed out other girls’ insecurities and failings with one glance and was quicker with a bitingly snarky (and scathingly true) one-liner than anyone else. Dynamite comes in small packages. You know not with whom you mess.

Then God called me to England as a college junior in 2003. And there, He broke me.

After enduring loneliness like I never knew possible, and then finding an incredible church full of the Holy Spirit and genuine, loving Christian friends, I came back from England humbled and softened. It didn’t happen overnight, though - I was broken for a long time. It took another two years for Him to fully strip away (most of) my volatility and split-second instincts to act defensively and push people away. But He did it…because He brought me, and still continues to bring me, closer and closer to Himself. I pray He never gives up on me.

I recently had an experience where I felt like I was back in junior high. It blindsided me a bit, to be honest. Back amidst those girls who shared despising glances and turned their backs to me. Except now, we’re 30. (Well, I’m not, yet. Heh.)

And it broke me all over again.

My heart ached at the silence, the coldness, the obvious dislike, when I wanted so very much to be liked. I bristled at a “joking” comment about my height. I felt awkward, unwelcome, out of place. Worst of all, I felt it creeping back up again - my old hardness, my walls of defense. It wounded me. I know all too well how to play this game…but I couldn’t. Not now, not again. So instead of throwing out biting, passive aggressive comments shrouded in the fuzzy, prickly sweater of sweetness, I bit my tongue. All I had done the whole day before was pray for God to work through me, to speak through me, to give me grace and maturity and peace. And by Heaven, I was going to stick by that - even if it meant I didn’t say a single word the whole time.

Instead, I stood back and listened. Listened to the insecurity. The fear. But more than anything else, I heard myself in their dialogue. Myself, eight years ago. Myself, trembling in terror. Desperately trying to one-up the other girl. Desperately trying to make myself look better. “You stay away from my future husband!” I know I said that at 20, probably verbatim, about my now ex-boyfriend. Myself, striving to do anything I had to do if it meant my own “happy ending” would just be within reach. It shocked and humbled me.

I couldn’t say anything. I went home feeling numb, with pain and yet also with a strange sense of relief. When I crawled into bed that night, I crawled up into God’s lap and asked Daddy to hold me.

Don’t get me wrong, I still get angry and jealous and insecure sometimes – a lot, actually – but now, it only hurts. It aches. It’s not right, and God swoops in and convicts me within seconds. I back down from arguments rather than starting them. When snarky comments roll off my tongue, they burn on the way out. If I start getting at all puffed up with myself and my own virtues, God wastes no time in very obviously reminding me of my quite helpless estate and utter dependence on Him.

I know what it is to be that girl. I know exactly how all of that feels. And praise Jesus, thanks to my merciful, loving Daddy and Lord, it’s taken more than two decades, but I’m not that girl anymore.

...or just this one.

2011-04-18T11:04:00.006-04:00

"...and it doesn't matter if I have ten thousand more moments like this... or just this one." -Love and Other Drugs

As I watched this movie on Friday night and Anne Hathaway paused in the middle of that line, I whispered "or just this one" before she even said it. I was pretty pleased with myself - maybe I had actually learned something in the years I spent studying screenwriting. Well, I'll be darned.

But I didn't learn that in a classroom.

So many of us find it easy to pray when things are confusing or troubling or don't make sense, but forget to thank God when He rains down blessings on us. It's taken a long time and a lot of trials, but most of the time, now, I remember.

Most of the time, now, I nearly fall to my knees in gratitude when He gives me even the smallest of moments - a story of mine that results in tears of laughter, a hug like one I've had hundreds of times before. Little, fleeting moments that I will cherish forever.

Because I know things change. People change. Circumstances change. People fall out of my life for one reason or another, leaving a hole where they once were and leaving me missing them terribly. All I can do is play through the video recorder in my mind of those moments we shared, and praise God that He blessed me so very generously with them at all.

And so, Daddy, I want to say thank You. Thank You so, so very much for the moments You've given me, whether I get ten thousand more...or just this one.

Saturday Morning Teatime: The Sick Girl

2011-04-16T11:41:00.005-04:00

I rented "Love and Other Drugs" from Redbox last night. (Be warned, if you're interested in seeing it - it's rated R for a reason.) I found it to be, albeit heavily peppered with sex, very deep and emotionally charged. It's nothing like a "typical" romantic comedy, that's for sure.

Anne Hathaway's character, Maggie, has early-onset Parkinson's and meets drug rep Jamie (Jake Gyllenhaal) at the doctor's office. They fall into a no-strings-attached fling which (predictably) deepens as the movie progresses. But, of course, Maggie's symptoms start to get worse, and will only continue to do so. Repeatedly throughout the film, she calls herself the "Sick Girl" and Jamie hears a lot of advice to find himself someone who's healthy, from her and from others, too.

(I'd go into a screenwriter's critique about how the script was, interestingly, far more centered on Jamie and his own personal bildungsroman than about Maggie at all - she was really just a catalyst - but I don't want to bore all you normal people out there. You've been spared!)

The "sick girl" thing, though, really got to me.

See, I was born six weeks prematurely and, after the incubator and then the oxygen tank at age 2 and the doctors telling my parents I wouldn't live until I was in elementary school and open heart surgery at age 5...well, I'm a stubborn little mule, it seems. And also, of course, God works mighty miracles! But I only ever got to an adult height of 4'10" and have suffered my entire life with severely reduced lung capacity. As a child and teenager, it was around 10% of normal - now, my pulmonologist tells me it's up to 50%. I take inhalers every day. I get winded a lot. Running and going up long flights of stairs can be challenging. Smoke and bonfires pose real threats if I'm not careful.

I'm like Maggie, though, in that I just want to get on with it. I can manage. I don't want to be treated differently or pitied. I don't act needy. I don't know any other way of life so I just live. It might take me a little more time to walk places (short legs also don't help that), but I'll get there.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the long week I've had, or lots of other reasons, but the climax of this movie really made me cry. Maggie cannot ask Jamie to take care of her as her Parkinson's gets worse, so she pushes him away. It takes him several weeks and a new job offer in another city, but he finally realizes he wants to step up to the challenge and goes to find her. She's on a bus to Canada with other patients who can't afford their medicine. He gets the bus to stop, and outside, they have this dialogue (with some slight edits on my part, by the way):

Jamie: I'm full of crap, okay? No, I'm...I'm knowingly full of crap. Because, uh...I have never cared about anybody or anything in my entire life. And the thing is, everybody just kind of accepted that. Like, "That's just Jamie." And then you! You. You didn't see me that way. I have never known anyone who actually believed that I was enough. Until I met you. And then you made me believe it, too. So, uh...unfortunately...I need you. And you need me.
Maggie: No I don't.
Jamie: Yes you do.
Maggie: No I don't.
Jamie: Yes, you do.
Maggie: Stop it, stop saying that.
Jamie: You need someone to take care of you.
Maggie: No, I don't!

Jamie: Everybody does.

Cue the waterworks.

And that's when I realized it. I'm not nearly as sick as a Parkinson's patient (praise God) and my condition isn't going to get any worse. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I'll always be just a little bit of a sick girl, too.

Turst and...what now?

2011-04-14T12:01:00.005-04:00

Earlier in the year, I had a decision to make. After starting a new job in January and settling into it by March, my work schedule finally allowed me the time and opportunity to pursue an avenue that I’d been considering for awhile.

Now, I had to decide just whether or not to do it. I was rather indecisive about it, having gotten differing opinions from different friends, and I just wasn’t sure. I was leaning towards doing it simply (and, in my view, most importantly) because it felt like it would be a step in obedience to what God has spoken to me in the past - even though, despite my prayers for guidance, He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the matter.

And then, the very week I had to decide, I got some other news I didn’t really like and consequently concluded, well then, that settles that, I wasn’t going to do it. Decision made.

Truth be told, I was being a stubborn child. God hadn’t given me what I wanted, so I was just NOT. GOING. TO DO IT. Cross my arms. Stomp my feet. Harumph. So there.

I had all kinds of excuses why not. It’s time. It’s money. I’ve got so much else going on. I’m overwhelmed. I’m scared. I hadn’t gotten the direction to do it straight from God, as I usually do; in fact, I hadn’t heard from God about it at all. Maybe it wasn’t His will.

But the truth of the matter is, what I was really thinking was why should I do it when God hasn’t held up His end?

So there I was, sitting in a restaurant by my office, writing the previous post on soul mates, and God spoke.

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You’re lying to these people. You’re writing that you believe what I said and that you know I don’t lie. But you’re not acting like you believe. You don’t really believe.”

I was speechless.

That’s when He told me to do the thing I didn’t want to do. Clear as day. Do it. DO IT. It wasn’t even up for discussion. Doesn’t matter what it looks like. Doesn’t matter if I can’t see through the fog. Doesn’t matter what happens even in the next days, weeks, months, whatever. What matters is what He said, and that He doesn’t lie. And I am supposed to act in obedience. Do it anyway. Hold up my end of the bargain and trust Him to hold up His.

God kept speaking.

“Have I EVER lied to you?”

“…no.”

“Haven’t I prepared you for EVERYTHING that’s happened?”

“…yes.”

“Haven’t I done IMPOSSIBLE things in the face of IMPOSSIBLE odds?”

“…yes.”

“Haven’t I told you EVERYTHING you needed to know just when you needed to know i t?”

“…yes.”

“Haven’t I blessed you in ways you never even imagined?”

“…yes.”

“Haven’t I ALWAYS COME THROUGH?”

“…yes.”

“All right then. So here it is. Right here, right now, I’m telling you to do it. DO IT.”

So I did.

One month ago tonight, I stepped out of my car onto the dirt parking lot at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary and headed towards my first ever seminary class.

I’m not sure I’d have done it if He hadn’t spoken to me so directly. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have. My mind was pretty solidly made up. But when I stepped onto that campus and walked past Binkley Chapel, the place where He has spoken to me and blessed me so many times before, it was as if I were stepping into the very center of the Holy Spirit. It was the same feeling I had the first time I stepped out of my car onto North Carolina soil almost four years ago and knew that’s where He was pointing for me to move.

It’s just one class so far - I’m not going for a Master’s of Divinity or anything (yet), but it’s about me being obedient to what He said. And honestly, I love it. Every single Thursday night, in that class, on that campus, God moves in my heart, and makes things clearer, and draws me closer to Himself.

I can’t see the future, but I do trust Him, and I’m so glad I listened. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t.

Obedience is trusting Daddy and doing what He says. Anyway.

Checks, Socks, and Souls

2011-04-13T17:55:00.006-04:00

Do you believe in soul mates?

My married best friends do. They believe they were created for each other, prepared for each other, and brought together on purpose - that no one else in the world would be right for them.

Another good friend of mine doesn’t. He believes any number of people could be “the one” - that God cares more that we’re serving Him and working to advance His kingdom than whom exactly we marry.

I’ve been grappling with this question for a few months now. At a time in my life when disappointment and discouragement sit perched on my shoulders like snickering cohorts about the topic of romance (now there’s an image), I’ve written several drafts of this post in the past month and most of the time, I end up with the defeated conclusion of I don’t know.

But that’s not quite true.

I don’t believe in soul mates...I believe in God.

I believe that God does have a will, a plan, for each of our lives, based on how He created us and how He wants us to use the gifts and passions He’s given us to serve Him best. I believe when we commit our lives to serving Him, that plan rolls into action like a divine juggernaut.

I believe He does care who we marry, because He planned it all out from the start. He knew everything we would do and when we would do it and what would happen as a result. Not so our lives will all be fairy tales and we’ll have someone to “complete” us - hello, our Savior already does that! - but because He created us. He knows us. And He knows what - and who - is best for us to, in turn, best glorify Him.

For myself, I don’t have the faintest idea who that person is. All God says about it to me lately is, “Trust Me.”

But I know He knows, and I believe what He says. He does not lie and He keeps His promises. Now, in His time, He has to break the news to that poor, unsuspecting gentleman - whoever he is.

I just hope he likes short redheads.

I can wait.

2011-04-10T19:32:00.007-04:00

In college, I had a gorgeous and really unique pair of brown wedge sandals that I loved. I left them at home as I traipsed around London for graduate school, and one day my parents forgot to close the door to my bedroom and our new puppy Jazzy ravaged my shoe collection, chewing my beloved brown sandals to pieces. I was inconsolable. I searched for a replacement pair for years - four, to be exact! - but none were quite as special as those. Finally, I found a pair on Payless' website and, after having to wait (for what seemed an eternity but was really about two weeks) for them to be available in size 5, I was able to snag them at a great deal. Totally worth the wait.

That's not even my best shoe story, though. Just this year, I discovered the pure shoe euphoria that is Nine West. Oh, my goodness. I found a pair of dark teal suede boots at their after-Christmas sale the likes of which I had only ever seen dancing through my imagination in those sweet moments before sleep. Best of all, I got them at 70% off - they were some of the least expensive boots I've ever bought! I was in boot nirvana - I never knew the boots that I was really waiting for until I found those. All other boots paled in comparison. I wore them to church today and I actively had to stop myself from staring at them in glee because of how marvelous they are.*

And so this afternoon, I decided to give myself a bear-hug to the soul with some therapy (ahem, mostly window) shopping, and excitedly made a beeline for Nine West again when I saw they were having a 40% off sale. I found a pair of lovely pink sandals the likes of which I've also been searching for for quite some time, but...but. But no. They were on sale, but see, the previous sale I'd experienced spoiled me. I know they'll go down more in price. I wasn't going to pay more for them than I paid for my beautiful boots. I looked at the sandals forlornly, even picked them up and petted them a little, but I knew they weren't coming home with me. Not yet. Not quite. If I give it just a few more weeks, maybe a few more months, they'll go on clearance like the boots. I know I'm risking them not being in my size, but it's a risk I'll take. If I'm meant to have them, I'll come back and they'll be further discounted and it'll be the right time and they'll be mine. And if they're gone, I wasn't meant to have them anyway, and God will give me better pink sandals that I can't even imagine yet.

I can wait. It'll be worth it.

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD. -Psalm 27:13-14

*My shoe love may be slightly exaggerated throughout this post, so please read with tongue firmly planted in cheek. But, uh, I have to say, those boots are pretty darn amazing.

Saturday Afternoon, um, Post-Teatime

2011-04-09T15:07:00.006-04:00

I'm actually working on about five longer blog posts right now that I'll hopefully complete within the next couple of weeks, but I got moved to a new team at work last week and I've been concentrating on working hard and doing well there - cause, you know, First Impressions* and all that. Blog posts are forthcoming, though!

But, in the interest of starting a "regular feature" and wanting to stick with it longer than one week, I am gracing you all with my mind's meanderings today. You should really be trembling with anticipation.

So, I needed some Biblical encouragement on a decision I made this morning and did a quick Google search for Bible verses on character. I found this: "In the same way, their wives are to be women worthy of respect, not malicious talkers but temperate and trustworthy in everything." (1 Timothy 3:11) Timothy is referring to deacons' wives in this particular passage, but I think that all women are called to be this way. I've been mulling over it all morning. Character is so important, even though it's really difficult to develop and maintain because it involves maturity. I'm coming to see maturity as, bottom-line, a deep sense of real trust in God and the actions that result from that trust.

Also, the phrase "It will all come out in the wash" has been big for me this week. Sometimes, life gets really confusing and it seems like everything is upside down and not the way it's supposed to be. I've been around long enough to see things change and come full circle. That phrase makes a lot of sense to me.

But then I started thinking about "the wash" itself. Have you ever thought about the process your clothes go through in the washing machine? It's pretty intense. There are several steps - soaking, the actual washing (which involves the clothes being churned around in hot water and soap), rinsing, and the spin cycle. If I were a sock (and, let's face it, at my size, that's what I'd be), I'd be pretty traumatized at the idea of going through the washer. But then you take the clothes out and the stains are gone, the smells are gone, and everything is right again. Things that aren't meant to be there definitely do come out in the wash, but it takes a rather unpleasant washing to make that happen.

Hmmm. I wonder which step in the cycle I'm in right now.

Hope you've enjoyed my musings and that all that trembling you did was worth it!

*Pop Quiz: Of which famous Jane Austen novel was "First Impressions" the original title?

Saturday Morning Teatime

2011-04-02T11:42:00.003-04:00

Since Saturday mornings are the only time I really have to savor a cuppa and think about life, I'm going to make Saturday Morning Teatime a regular feature here. Here are some things I'm particularly grateful for this week:

-A church that needs me and a church family who is for me.

-Parents and a little sister who are my biggest fans.

-Random compliments from strangers about the brightness of my hair just when I need to hear them.

-Friends on whom I can depend and memories with whom I will always cherish.

-Twinings tea sold cheaply in the US.

-Trying on a pair of jeans in my normal size and they're ever-so-slightly too big!

-The peace and blessings that come with real obedience to God.

Get It Right

2011-03-30T13:46:00.005-04:00

OK, so, I've had a love-hate relationship with Glee for a few months now. This season, parts of the show are amazingly well-written and deeply emotional, and others are just over-the-top ridiculous and unbelievable. However, I have to say, last week's episode was just incredible.

Brief Synopsis: Rachel is in love with Finn. Finn encourages Rachel to write an original song for Regionals, but while doing so, gets back together with his ex-girlfriend, Quinn. Quinn is threatened by Rachel but pretends to be friends with her to keep an eye on her. When they meet to work on an original song for Regionals, Quinn gives Rachel this speech:

Quinn: Do you wanna know how the story plays out? I get Finn, you get heartbroken, and then Finn and I stay here and start a family. [...] You don't belong here, Rachel, and you can't hate me for helping to send you on your way.

Rachel: No. I'm not giving up on Finn. It's not over between us.

Quinn: Yes, it is! You're so frustrating, and that is why you can't write a good song, because you live in this little schoolgirl fantasy of life. Rachel, if you keep looking for that happy ending then you are never gonna get it right.

Rachel walks away crying...and then writes this song and performs it at Regionals. Breathtaking.

I've been listening to it on a loop for a week. This is what it looks like when television gets it right.

And in case you're wondering, I'm totally on Team Rachel. I think all of us who live in little schoolgirl fantasties of life well deserve to get our happy endings.

No More Terrible Twos!

2011-03-27T22:25:00.004-04:00

It's my precious poodle puppy, Lottie's, third birthday today! She is my sunshine and I don't know what I'd do without her. Here's a video of her playing with some friends she met at the downtown apartment complex where we lived this summer. Happy Birthday, Charlotte Elisabeth!

Kiss me, I'm a redhead!

2011-03-17T20:24:00.007-04:00

St. Patrick’s Day. It’s the day we wear green and celebrate shamrocks, the luck o' the Irish, and leprechauns.

What are leprechauns? Oh yes - cute, mischievous, little redheads!

Carrot tops. Gingers. Redheads are known for being fiery, high-strung, hot-tempered, and a lot to handle...but totally worth it. And then there are the famous ladies, like Maureen O'Hara, Rita Hayworth, Katharine Hepburn, and Julia Roberts. Pretty good company to be in, I'd say.

I've always loved being a redhead. It's my favorite physical trait. My hair has been called gorgeous and luscious and people often want to run their fingers through it. A good friend of mine once nicknamed me "Grace Adler." An ex-boyfriend said I looked like Nicole Kidman. (Ha!)

And so, in honor of Cute, Mischievous Redhead Day, here are some fun facts and quotes about redheads!

The most rare hair color in humans is red.

The highest percentage of natural redheads in the world is in Scotland (13%), followed closely by Ireland with 10%. In the US, about 2% of the population are natural redheads

Multiple studies have shown that redheads need about 20% more anesthetic during surgery to keep them sedated than non-redheads.

In ancient Rome, redheaded slaves were often more expensive than those with other hair color.

Red hair is a recessive trait, which means that a child must inherit one red hair gene from each parent. Recessive traits often come in pairs, and redheads are more likely than other people to be left handed. (Interesting. Both my sister and I are redheads and neither of us are left-handed.)

"Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead." -Lucille Ball

"You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair," said Anne reproachfully. "People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is."-Anne to Marilla in "Anne of Green Gables"

"Nobody who has known a redhead can say that redheads are tame. Even shy redheads have a burning spark of adventure inside them. Opinionated, hotheaded, logical, loyal, friendly, reserved, whatever the redheads' personality, you can bet they'll have SCADS of it!" -Review of The Redhead Encyclopedia

"I used to hate my red hair, but now I love the attention I get with it. I think that very smart, daring men love red hair, and I love that in a man." -John Wayne stealing a kiss from Maureen O'Hara

"When a fellow has a home and a dear, little, red-haired wife in it, what more need he ask of life?" -Gilbert in "Anne's House of Dreams"

Happy Cute, Mischievous Redhead Day from one of their very own. Come to think of it, that should be every day!

Send in the Clowns

2011-03-16T12:24:00.002-04:00

For about a year now, in one area of my life, I’ve felt like I’ve been in one long audition.

I’ve given all I have in me to give – and then some, praise God. I’ve done the best I can. I’ve shown the best of myself. I’ve listened to God when He held me back and I’ve stepped in time when He pushed me forward.

I’ve heard God speak, seen Him move, witnessed miracles, experienced fulfilled promises, and felt joy like never before in my life.

I can say that, with God’s help and His very real presence and guidance, I’ve done very little I regret. Only flubbed a few lines. I can’t praise Him enough for that.

And I have prayed. And prayed. And prayed some more.

Now, though, the audition is over. There’s nothing more I can do.

It’s time for me to step off the stage for awhile and just let Daddy have it. Time for me to wait in the wings, behind the curtain, until I hear my name called again.

Psalm of the Day - 143

2011-03-08T14:11:00.003-05:00

I'm loving this Psalm today - it speaks to my soul and perfectly verbalizes my heart's cry.

LORD, hear my prayer,
listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness
come to my relief.
Do not bring your servant into judgment,
for no one living is righteous before you.
The enemy pursues me,
he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in the darkness
like those long dead.
So my spirit grows faint within me;
my heart within me is dismayed.
I remember the days of long ago;
I meditate on all your works
and consider what your hands have done.
I spread out my hands to you;
I thirst for you like a parched land.

Answer me quickly, LORD;
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me
or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.
Rescue me from my enemies, LORD,
for I hide myself in you.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
lead me on level ground.

For your name’s sake, LORD, preserve my life;
in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.
In your unfailing love, silence my enemies;
destroy all my foes,
for I am your servant. -Psalm 143

The Passionate Pursuit of Perfection

2011-03-06T15:08:00.003-05:00

I've been feeling a lot of pressure lately to be perfect. Faultless. Blameless. As if my life were one big test on which I'm constantly being scored. I have to be perfect to witness to people who don't know Christ or else they'll see me as a hypocrite. I have to be perfect or else I'll never get a man to love me enough to want to be my husband. I have to be perfect to be a leader in our youth group, because those kids are looking up to me. I have to be perfect at work to get a permanent position. I have to be perfect everywhere, all the time, at everything.

That's a lot of pressure.

This past week, especially, I've been feeling it - and, I admit, I buckled under it. It overtook me. I let myself get angry, resentful, and frustrated. I started acting defensively and pushing people away. I felt helpless and hopeless. I spent four straight nights last week crying myself to sleep.

Yeah, um...that doesn't sound anywhere near perfection. Way to go, me.

We always say "God doesn't expect us to be perfect" to comfort ourselves. We say things like "Do your best, and God will do the rest," and "God only made One perfect person and they crucified Him at 33."

But in Matthew, Jesus says the very words, "Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect." (Matthew 5:48)

Um...what? Does Jesus really expect us to be perfect? Jesus knows us. He walked among us. His best friends disappointed him over and over with their imperfections. Doesn't He know how impossible that is? Doesn't He know we can't be perfect? Doesn't He know I can't be perfect?

Right before Jesus said that, He was talking about loving other people - giving all of yourself that you have to give, loving those you hate you, showing mercy and grace to people who you really just don't like. He finishes those instructions with the exhortation to be perfect.

Perfectly loving. Perfectly graceful. Perfectly generous. Perfectly forgiving.

It seems to me the point Jesus is trying to make is that we should treat everyone else with the unconditional, unending, unfaltering grace and generosity and love of God. If we're doing that, we won't notice each others' imperfections because we're too busy loving each other.

I get it. That makes so much sense. It turns the pointing finger of judgment into an embrace of affection.

I still feel the pressure to be perfect, though. I get upset when I know others see my flaws and I feel like they're judging me and withholding their love from me - whether or not it's true. I do it to myself. I'm pretty much always my own worst enemy.

The problem is, much to my chagrin and no matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be perfect this side of Heaven. So what do I do in the meantime?

The only way I can see to get closer to perfection is to continue to seek the love and presence of God - the One who is perfect. Because the closer I get to God, the more He purifies me, molds me, works in me, and makes me more like Himself.

That's not a simple answer. It's not easy. It's not painless by any means. Just this weekend I became acutely aware of more of my egregious imperfections - of hard-heartedness, insecurity, immaturity. No matter how much God works, He always has more to do in me. My job is not to be perfect but to let Him.

And I just pray that my loved ones, knowing I'm trying, will be gracious and forgiving along the way.

Free Willing It

2011-02-07T13:06:00.004-05:00

*This is a bit more raw than I usually let myself get here. You've been warned.*

I hate free will.

God gave us free will because He wants us to love Him of our own accord. He doesn’t want us to be puppets on a string. He wants us to come to Him and step into His will with willing hearts. And it breaks His heart when we don’t.

He has a plan for each of our lives but He wants us to follow Him because we want to. And things turn out better when we do.

I don’t make my own decisions. I haven’t for a long time. I know I’ll screw things up (and I manage to do a pretty good job of that even with trying to always give everything to God). More than that, I know that God is smarter than I am. I mean, duh. I don’t know everything; I can’t see the future. God does; He can. Also, He loves me unconditionally. The answer, to me, is pretty obvious.

I hate free will. I don’t want it. I know and love and trust my Lord enough that I know He knows better than I do. Often, I wish free will didn’t exist.

Why? Because, frankly, we’re stupid. We’re lazy and selfish. We’re sinners. We don’t know what’s good for us or what we really need. We’re cowards. We act like idiots and hurt people to whom we’re closest. We push people away. We don’t step up. We’re destructive and insensitive and cruel. We wallow in self-gratification rather than taking a chance on self-sacrifice. And in doing so, we’re blasphemous to the God who created us to live in loving relationships with each other. We’re our own worst enemies. (I'm including myself in this, by the way.)

Several of my nearest and dearest are hurting, despairing, brokenhearted, because of free will and being cruelly treated by people they loved and trusted. I am hurting. My heart is weary. I am fed up, frustrated, and questioning whether believing in someone is ever really worth it. All I want to be able to tell my little sisters, my family, my friends, is that it gets better. That people can change. That God can do it.

I’m being honest when I say that when it comes to questions of free will, I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. I have faith in God. I’ve seen His miracles. I’ve heard His very voice and watched Him act. Immediately. In the moment. BAM! Miracle. If He’s taught me anything in the past year, it’s that He can do whatever He wants. Really.

But when it comes to people – when it comes to us making our own choices – I’m much less confident.

Prayer works. God moves. I know miracles can happen.

But because of free will, people have to be willing. Because of free will, I don’t know if or when people will change.

So that’s why I say it. I hate free will.

After stewing over this all morning and angrily banging out this rant just to get it out of my system, I stopped. I read it. I didn’t like the way it ended – hopelessly. With that one pithy and pitiful statement you see there. Didn’t seem to add up to someone who’s been in relationship with God for more than 20 years.

So I turned to the Bible (well, a Google search on Bible verses) and came upon this one, which I know so well and have used in prayer so many times: “Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” –James 5:13-16

OK, then. That’s what it says, so that’s what I’ll do. I’ll keep praying.

I still don’t like free will, though.

The Price Tag of Love

2010-12-24T09:20:00.005-05:00

I don't have a lot of money for Christmas gifts this year. As much as I wish I could shower my friends and family with special things to unwrap, it's just not possible.

But, as we all know, things are not what Christmas is really about. It's about love - a Heavenly Father who loved us so much that He gave Himself to us.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the price of real love - not monetarily, but emotionally, spiritually, sacrificially. How much is enough? How much is too much? Is there too much? At what point do you say "that's it, that's all, I'm finished?" What's the time limit on loving someone? How many chances do you give? Where's the finish line on giving someone the benefit of the doubt? Of forgiveness? Of exposing your heart completely unprotected, even though you know for sure and certain that you're going to get hurt?

I became a Gleek roundabout this past May, at the influence of my best friend, and promptly fell in love with Kurt and Rachel's version of "Defying Gravity." At the time, a few lines in particular really stood out to me:

Too long I've been afraid of

Losing love I guess I've lost

Well if that's love

It comes at much too high a cost

I downloaded the song on iTunes and spent weeks singing along with it in the car, especially when I felt wrung out, worn out, hurt, and frustrated by people I loved and trusted most. It was as if it were giving me validation for feeling like I could stop giving, stop loving, stop being sacrificial, because the price tag was just too high.

Thankfully, as He always does, God intervened.

The lyrics began to not sit well with me, and haven't for months now. Whenever I heard them, I felt a spiritual itching, a prodding, like a thorn poking me repeatedly saying no, that's not right. There is no "too high a cost" when it comes to love.

And then He reminded me of what Jesus had to say about it:

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." -John 15:13

Now, as Christians, we're supposed to be loving and sacrificial. That's easy to do with people we don't know. It's even almost easy to do it with people we don't really like personally, because even though we may not see eye to eye, by gosh, we "love them with the love of Jesus" and we get a feeling of self-righteousness when we do. But where it gets really hard is when it's someone close, someone we trust, someone we hold dear.

I think Jesus knew. He knew. Look at what He said. He didn't say, "Greater love has no one than he who lays down his life for a bunch of people he doesn't know." He didn't say "Greater love has no one who lays down his life to prove how loving he is." Nope. He said, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

Laying down your life. That's the highest price tag there is.

And that's the answer. That's the limit. That's the finish line. Not when I want to stop. Not the first or second or tenth or twentieth time someone makes me cry. Not when it feels too hard, too painful, like it's too high a cost. Jesus set the example: laying down your life. That's it.

Until I get there, I'm not done yet.

This summer, just as God started giving me the spiritual itch about "Defying Gravity," He gave me another song to replace it. Here are some of the lyrics:

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue

I'd go crawling down the avenue

No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do

To make you feel my love

My Daddy and Lord likes that song much better. He pours out the Holy Spirit on me when I listen to it in the car. Even when it hurts. Even when I don't really want to. Even when just listening to it makes me cry.

He says, "That's more like it."

Different is OK.

2010-10-07T21:20:00.003-04:00

I have never, ever done anything the "traditional" way.

I mean, isn't that, y'know, boring?

I'm a Christian woman. I love Jesus. I try my best to be sweet and giving, and I'm gleeful when God gives me the words to be funny. I'm passionate and enthusiastic and don't like hearing no. I'm often told to calm down. My emotions run deep. It's hard for me to be still and not lift my hands during praise songs. I'm also tiny, and I like to jump around when I get excited. If I can't reach something in the grocery store, I often climb up the shelves. This Sunday, I had to get up to the front to sing, but there was a cord blocking my path from where I was sitting in the pew. It was too high for me to step over, so I dropped to my knees and crawled under it. In my Sunday best. On Homecoming Sunday. Several times. In front of the whole church.

I do that.

When I was 14, I adapted and directed a group of my classmates in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. The local newspaper wrote a story on me. Emblazoned across the front page of the Sunday paper were the words DIFFERENT IS OK, with my braces-clad adolescent face smiling awkwardly underneath. I've been living up to that label from the time I decided I was done with being in the womb six weeks early to this very moment as I sit here typing.

I've always, perhaps naively, been happy to be different. I thought it made me unique. Noticeable. Maybe even special. (Like a 4'10" hyperactive girl with a head of bright red curls isn't noticeable enough.)

But now...in the grown-up world full of much quieter churchgoing women who never seem to need to be told to calm down and who seem to lead wonderfully peaceful lives with husbands and children and houses and white picket fences...I'm not so sure. Being normal, being traditional, even, seems to be working out pretty well for them.

They seem like, well...so much less trouble than I am. And I have to wonder...are they? Am I really just too much?

God has taught me so much in the past several years. How to react with forgiveness and love. How to give others the benefit of the doubt. How to reign myself in when all I want to do is lash out. How to go to Him for the love and peace that my fiery, sometimes turbulent spirit so desperately needs. He's taught me so much, and even more so, He's taught me that I'll never stop needing to learn how to be more like Him.

And yet, I'm still different.

I don't think I will ever be called benign. I might be shy sometimes, but I'm not quiet - at least, not for long. I'm sweet, but I'm not sure about docile. I'm never going to really learn how to calm down - at least not for any length of time. I don't think, much as I try, I will ever be a "traditional" woman.

But I will give everything I have in me to give. I will be gracious, and peaceful, and forgiving, and I will pour myself out for my God and my family and my church. I will not rest until I turn a frown into a smile, and then a smile into a laugh. I will never not be open, not be vulnerable, not be sincere. I will never withhold my love.

I just have to pray that that's enough...and that different is still OK.

My Permanently Heart-Shaped Sleeve, Take 2

2010-08-15T15:03:00.002-04:00

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." -Jeremiah 1:5

(The previous edition of this post is here. Oh, and there's more here, too.)

I am a person who loves deeply. When I invest in someone, I do so with everything I have within me. When you get to know me and I become invested in you, well, sorry about your luck, but you're stuck with me for life. I love people. I try to seek out where people are coming from and give them the benefit of the doubt over and over. I see the potential in people and pray and believe for them to reach it. A childhood friend of mine recently said, "One of the best things about you is that you care about people like crazy. You don't give up on them even when they've given up on themselves." What an amazing compliment! I only hope to live up to that.

It's against my nature to do otherwise. I can't. Now, mind you, it's all God. It's the work He has done in me that has made me this way, and try as I sometimes do to fight it, I just can't seem to do anything else.

But it isn't always easy. Sometimes it's really, really hard.

This summer has been very long and difficult for me. To be honest, I'll be glad to see it end and move into a new season. There's a lot of change happening in my life right now - I'm starting a new job tomorrow, and I'll be moving in a few weeks, and everything will, again, be different.

The last time this happened (which, incidentally, was two months ago), I was terrified. I didn't want things to change. I was afraid of the change because I was afraid of losing the closeness that I have with several people whom I love and have invested in deeply. I think, somehow, I knew it would happen. And it did.

To be honest, this summer has been one of the loneliest of my life. I've felt unwanted, replaced, forgotten. Not good enough. Not worth the effort. I've gone weeks without seeing my very close friends, and when I do, it's not the same as it was two months ago.

And I've felt empty, like I have absolutely nothing left in me to give. It's an unnatural, uncomfortable state for me. It's been miserable. I'm a giver. I delight in giving of myself, my time, my energy, and my emotions to build others up within deep, close relationships. But all I've felt this summer is empty.

Not surprisingly, I've felt far from God for weeks. I know He's working, but I haven't yet seen the results of what He's up to. I'm just supposed to trust. I do trust. If I've learned anything over the last six months or so, it's that God can do whatever He wants and all I have to do is trust Him.

But it's still been a long, terribly lonely summer.

Then, this afternoon, as I was driving down Capital Boulevard in Raleigh on my way home to my temporary apartment, I was sitting at a stoplight and noticed that one of the cars in front of me had a bumper sticker that read, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you." -God

And I burst into tears.

He knew me. He knew what I would be like when He created me. He knew every single fault I would have and He made me anyway. He loves me, and He loves me despite my faults.

He doesn't hold back His affection because He thinks I'm too emotional or too needy or because sometimes I get really upset and frustrated and act in ways I know I shouldn't. When I come to Him for love and peace, He doesn't throw my mistakes in my face. He knows my worries and my fears and every thought that goes through my head. He knows - dare I say it? - my sins, and the things I stupidly put between Himself and me, and He is always working to break through them and get to me on a higher, closer, deeper level. He knows we can work on the problems I have together, and He can change me and get me to overcome them by His grace. He doesn't tell me not to believe for impossible things - in fact, He made me to believe Him for them.

He knew there would be moments when I would cry out to Him and ask Him why He made me? Why He kept me alive? Why He doesn't love me? Why I have to go through the things He's putting me through? He knew I would be tempted to turn my back on Him during the trials. He knew I would sit in despair and wonder where He was, when He was right there all along.

He knew me. He made me. And He loves me.

I cried the rest of the way home.

Is it scary to get emotionally invested in people? Absolutely. I'm terrified, even now. Because I know that when I do, I'm bound to get hurt along the way. There's really no question that it's going to happen. The people we're closest to are the people who will hurt us the most.

But living otherwise - withholding myself and keeping myself closed off and fenced in - would be disrespectful to my Daddy who will heal any wound with His unconditional love. He made me this way - to love deeply and richly and to believe in Him and in the people He puts in my life. He made me to be an encourager, a giver - someone who won't give up.

He knew me. He knew what He was doing. So I just have to trust Him and know that whenever I need to, I can crawl up into His arms and He'll say, just as He did in the car on the way home, "I love you so much, my precious little girl."

Coulda, Woulda, Didn't

2010-07-31T14:37:00.008-04:00

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23

A few months ago, someone I loved and trusted did something to me that was really, really thoughtless and cruel.

I would have been totally justified in absolutely freaking out, telling this person off, and slamming the door shut on our relationship.

But I didn't.

I could have.

My friends told me they would have, if they'd been me. They were shocked that I didn't.

But I didn't.

I actually had something similar happen to me years before, and since then, I swore to myself that I'd never let it happen to me again. Not me, no way. Never again.

And yet. I didn't.

God spoke to me right when I needed to hear Him. He told me what was going on. He gave me peace. He let me in on what was happening in this person's head. He told me, not only to not freak out, but that I didn't even need to worry about it at all. It wasn't a problem. Everything would be fine. He was going to take care of it. "Chill out, sweetie, it's fine."

I'd love to say that I believed God with all of my being...but I didn't.

He was very clear, very obvious, very convincing, and also very comforting. Very. Perhaps more clear and more comforting than I've ever felt Him before in my life.

I mostly believed Him.

Even so, there was still a little part of me that wanted to freak out. I wanted to cry and scream and tell this person exactly how wronged I felt and how hurt I was. I'd been through this before and I swore it wasn't going to happen to me again!

But I couldn't. I knew I wasn't supposed to. I knew it would have been against God's will. Somehow, even thinking about doing it felt terribly wrong, and I knew that God would be angry with me if I did. I knew it would have made a big purple pig's ear of everything, and it just wasn't necessary. God kept saying, over and over, "Shhh. It's okay. Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter. I'm going to take care of it."

He wouldn't let me do it.

So I didn't.

And He did take care of it. Everything was fine. It didn't matter. At all.

Just like He said He would.

A few months later, I learned a little bit more about how much, according to worldly standards, I would have been justified in reacting in anger. But now, it just seems silly. That would have been so stupid, and would have hurled a wrecking ball through God's will and the amazing things that He has done since then.

I'm so glad I didn't. Not just because I kept someone close to me who I care about, but, even more so, because of what it means between God and myself. It means that in the last few years of working in me, quite without my even realizing it, He's grown me up from a defensive, self-righteous girl who reacts with "never again" to - is it possible? - a patient, gentle woman who reacts with "I forgive you."

For that reason alone, I'm so glad I didn't.

In Spite of MYself

2010-07-30T21:30:00.003-04:00

I swear, I totally saw this couple in Subway today. We were the only ones in the restaurant. I couldn't believe it.

It's to the point, now, where if I go a day without having at least one big cosmic meringue confection lobbed at my head...I miss it.

And I was reminded, again, just when I needed to be reminded, to keep on hoping.

Through the Looking Glass

2010-07-26T22:41:00.007-04:00

If I'm being honest, I don't post as often as I should, or, for that matter, as often as I'd like. One of my (many) goals for the upcoming weeks is to post more often and actually act like the writer I claim to be. So, to open up a bit and let the two people other than my mother who read this blog into the inner workings of my mind a bit more - because emotional unavailability gets you nowhere! - I'm taking a cue from Andy, and...drumroll please...here are 50 things about me:

1. I realized in the shower this morning that directing comedy is what God put me on this earth to do and when I'm not actively doing it, something is tangibly missing.

2. I'm going to rectify that situation very soon.

3. I've been working in customer service doing phone technical support for a year. It's forced me to have more patience than I knew I was capable of, and even though I don't like it a lot of the time, I can see God all over it.

4. My name is pronounced "Eeleesse" and not "Ahleesse." Most people get it wrong.

5. It doesn’t really bother me that much. Only people who are really close to me get it right, so it’s like a sign of emotional intimacy.

6. The idea that if you expect nothing, you won't be disappointed is perhaps the most depressing thing I've ever heard.

7. Unlike most other girls, I never hated being a redhead.

8. In fact, I love it. It gives me an excuse to be fiery.

9. I can pretty much tell within a few minutes - hours, at most - of meeting a man if he has the personality to handle me. Most men don't. I'm a lot to handle.

10. That being said, I'm very, very giving.

11. I am alternately frustrated and amused by politics and how upset people get over them. If we all just lived like Jesus and loved each other, we wouldn't have these problems.

12. My mom always told me to be proud of my scar from my open heart surgery, and I always have been.

13. I cherish my parents more and more every day.

14. I also admire my father as a strong man in Christ more and more every day, and will feel blessed to find a husband who is like him.

15. I often wonder, if my sister and I were closer in age and not related, if we'd be friends. I secretly think she's much cooler than I am, and I'm glad we're sisters so she doesn't have a choice.

16. The best compliment you can pay me is to call me "hilarious." Obviously.

17. I remember clearly every single time I've gotten that compliment.

18. The sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me wasn’t that, but it was similar. And wonderful.

19. In February of 2008, God told me that my future life would look "nothing like I could ever imagine." I believe it.

20. Cooking is one of my favorite things to do...but only if I get to cook for other people.

21. I love my dog very much, but feel guilty about the fact that sometimes I think my life would be easier if I didn't have her.

22. Then again, I would be terribly lonely without her.

23. Quite literally, I just glanced to the right, deep in thought, my eyes focused on something entirely random, and God used it as a sign. Wow.

24. I love it when that happens.

25. My favorite food is cheese.

26. I have a strong distaste for vulgar humor but at the same time regularly think of innuendo-laced one-liners that would shock most people.

27. They're not vulgar, they're clever.

28. I can't wait to have just one person to share them with - just between us.

29. When I was able to choose whatever food I wanted as my first solid food after my open heart surgery, I chose watermelon. In November.

30. That should have been a sign to my parents. It probably was.

31. My dad makes the best pies in the whole world.

32. I talk to myself. A lot.

33. Correction - I talk to other people. They're just not actually there at the time.

34. I'm really not crazy.

35. Mom says we'd know by now if I was.

36. I sleep with a pillow lying vertically beside me because I like to hug it.

37. The two years I spent in England grew me up in ways I never knew I needed to grow. It was incredible.

38. They were also the hardest and loneliest years I’ve ever spent. I'll never travel abroad alone again.

39. I got my Master's in screenwriting, but what I really want to do is direct.

40. And be in ministry.

41. I'm learning to look at every situation as an opportunity for ministry, even if it's temporary or not blatantly obvious. That includes every single call I get during a day at work.

42. I've talked to customers about God. And didn't lose my job because of it. Praise God.

43. I have this problem (gift?) where I see the potential in people and believe God can get them there rather than just accept where they actually are.

44. I’m not a very physically affectionate person in general. If I’m physically affectionate with you, you know you’re special to me.

45. When I was 14, the local newspaper did a story about me directing Shakespeare with the headline “DIFFERENT IS OK.”

46. My favorite movie is “America’s Sweethearts.”

47. I’ve been what I thought was “in love” twice. Hopefully the third time will be the charm.

48. My favorite song is “Something Beautiful” by Robbie Williams.

49. Roses are my weakness. Among other things.

50. My brain never, ever shuts off.

Why yes, that was intentional.

2010-07-21T12:29:00.003-04:00

One afternoon in mid-March, sitting on the couch in my apartment with my dog, I suddenly, starkly realized that I was completely dissatisfied with my life.

A few weeks prior, I'd been given the news at that I would be losing my entry-level, part-time customer service job. Two days before that, my landlady had informed me that she had to make some changes to her living arrangements and asked me to move out within two months. I was broke, confused, and lost, not to mention as single as the dollar sitting in my bank account.

Something wasn't working. Wasn't happening. Wasn't right. When I moved to Raleigh three years ago under God's direction...this wasn't how it was supposed to turn out.

In that moment of clarity, He made me realize that part of that something was me.

Sure, there are some things that I can't control. The economy is bad. Everyone is struggling. Many people are getting laid off. Many people my age have to live with their parents. Many people haven't found their chance, found their way, found their spouse. But as a person of faith, I can trust that God will take care of me, that He'll provide - the right opportunity, the right circumstance, the right person. That's God's part.

But then, there's also my part.

For about six months now, God has been teaching me that He wants me to do more than just sit and wait for Him to perform miracles. He will, of course - He already has, in my life. Often. A lot. So much so that I'm in awe. But for me to just sit and wait for more is at best passive and at worst disrespectful. Passive and disrespectful to the God who has given me so very much.

I trust the Bible. I trust what God has spoken in my heart about my life. And now, He is telling me that He wants me to take what He has given me and approach everything - ministry, relationships, jobs - with intention.

Basically, that means that He wants me to give as much of myself as possible in every situation. He wants me to be intentional about the job He gives me, the relationships He blesses me with, and the ministry He's called me into - no matter how mundane the task, how challenging the person, or how scary the next step. He is asking for all of me. In a nutshell, He's saying "If you're going to do something, do it right. Don't squander what I am giving you."

I've been thinking about this whole thing kind of like being in a swimming pool. God threw me into one end of the pool and promises He won't let me drown. He pushes me forward with waves of guidance and teaching and spiritual revival, and He's told me what He wants me to do and what He has for me along the way. But He also gave me arms and legs, and it's up to me to use them. Otherwise, I'll just be treading water. Not drowning, not sinking...but not getting anywhere.

There's God's part, and then there's my part.

I intend to do God's will. I intend to give everything He gives me my all - because I believe what He's told me, and it's time I started acting like it.

No more treading water.

Present Laughter

2010-07-21T11:35:00.003-04:00

I've always fancied smart, charismatic, witty men who are a bit to the left side of normal and aren't afraid to be themselves. Let's face it, if a man is going to be able to handle me, it's kind of a necessity.

It's no surprise, then, that when I adapted and directed "Twelfth Night" in eighth grade, my favorite character was Feste, the jester, who, as is the norm for Shakespeare's jesters, was really the wise, truth-telling seer just playing the silly, wise-cracking fool.

The reason I'm bringing this all up? Well, it occurred to me, when my favorite line of his - perhaps my favorite line in all of Shakespeare - ran through my head yesterday morning as I was waking up, that I've never explained where the URL name for this blog came from:

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

I've loved that line for years, but the older I get, the more I like it.

COMMITTING to the MOMENT!!

2010-06-10T18:28:00.011-04:00

I'm a small-town girl. I mean, a really-small-town girl. The town in Pennsylvania where I grew up is composed mostly of fields, surrounded by mountains, and I'm pretty sure it boasts more cows than people. We had a day off of school on the first day of hunting season...both doe and buck. I can remember standing in the kitchen with my sister watching a black bear lumber nonchalantly through our yard.

I could go on, but I think you get it.

Now, though, I live in the grand metropolis that is Raleigh. I love so much about it, I really do. There are two malls within a twenty-minute driving distance, stores and restaurants I'd never even heard of, and oh my goodness, can you believe I lived the first 24 years of my life without ever eating Coldstone ice cream? I know - it's an almost unspeakable travesty.

But as I said, at heart, I'm a small-town girl. The one part of living in the city that I'm still getting used to is the driving. And the one particular aspect of driving here that I hate the most is parking decks.

Now, to make a long story short, I have to use an inhaler every day, and right now I drive down to the (very large and well-known) hospital in Raleigh to pick it up. This means that every month or so, I have to inch my precious little blue Focus through the ginormous parking deck at the hospital, find a place to park, run in, grab my life-giving medicine, and then, even more carefully, inch the Focus back out of whatever space I found, avoiding the much more, ahem, confident drivers who careen around the tight corners of the parking deck levels without seeming to care that that the little redheaded girl in the blue car is white-knuckled and hyperventilating trying to back up as they fly by.

It just so happened that I had to go pick up my inhaler today.

I was nearly finished. I'd braved both of the huge, multi-lane highways necessary to get to the hospital. I'd parked the car without scraping the front bumper on a wall in the parking deck. (Victory!) And now I was sitting with my inhaler nestled comfortably on the front seat, promising me two more months of, well, life. The car was on and in reverse. My neck was craned on the back windshield, prepared.

But other cars kept coming. I couldn't back up. Every time I started, another one whizzed past and I'd gasp, thankful for the five inches that kept them from hitting me.

I waited about five minutes, but there was no reprieve. They just kept coming.

And so, I froze.

I waited.

I refused to move the car.

It was too risky.

I can’t afford an accident.

Finally I realized…if I didn’t put my foot on the gas pedal and pull out of that parking space, I was going to sit there until Jesus came to take me home.

Side note: I love the tv show “Friends.” There’s an episode in season three when Joey is in a play with a rather eccentric director who, when he gets a phone call on his cell phone, pauses their action while he answers and wails,

"...when I continue, I hope that there will appear onstage this magical thing that in the theater we call COMMITTING to the MOMENT!"

As I sat with my car in reverse, my neck aching from craning it backwards looking for an opportunity to pull out, that line suddenly ran through my head.

I had to do it. I had to commit to the moment.

I took a deep breath. I listened for other cars. I couldn’t hear any.

So I put my foot on the gas and backed up, then, as quickly as I could, I put the car in drive and left the parking garage.

I was fine. No one hit me. No one was even behind me. Twenty minutes later I was home and snuggling with my dog.

I had to take the risk. It was that, or live in that parking garage.

Now, I’ve directed plays since I was a teenager. I still do it at my church, and I admit, I can get like Joey’s director sometimes. I whine, and flail, and cajole, and plead, and jump around, and wave my arms, and practically roll around on the floor to get my actors to give me more. I need more emotion!! More energy!! LOUDER!! I don’t believe it!! Give me MORE!!

Really, what I’m asking is for them to commit to the moment!! (Ask them. They’ll tell you how I am.)

Because if you’re not going to really do it…why do it at all? You’re just going to sit in the parking garage with your car in reverse, forever. And where does that get you?

When you could be on the highway, on your way home.

When you could be really doing something worthwhile.

When you could be really living. Feeling. Loving. Stepping into God’s will for your life.

I’m not saying not to be careful. I’m not saying to blindly jump. I’m saying that there comes a time when you have to take a deep breath and put your foot on the gas pedal and just leap. Because…what’s the alternative?

Commit to the moment.

Otherwise, you could be stuck in a parking garage. Forever.

And what's the point of that?

Cosmically Cream-Pied, Boy Edition

2010-05-05T11:25:00.017-04:00

One Saturday evening a few weeks ago, I spritzed my favorite perfume in my painstakingly curled hair, swished the perfect shade of pink lip gloss on my lips, pulled the corduroy blazer he'd previously complimented me on over my cute floral tank top, and bid my toy poodle goodbye as I walked out the door to meet a lovely young man for dinner.

Don't everyone faint at once, now. My supply of smelling salts is limited.

We were meeting at the restaurant where my best friend is a manager. We'd known each other for more than a month, introduced by my best friend and her husband, but this would be the first time we'd really spent any time just the two of us (and, y'know, everyone else in the restaurant). I was nervous, and excited, and anticipatory, and happy, and, because I'm me...kind of freaking out.

Why, you ask? What, it's not blatantly obvious? Oh. Well, because...because we'd have to do the Awkward Check Dance.

Holy crap.

Now, of course I'd want to pay for myself. No question. I'm an empowered modern woman (whatever that means) and would never expect a man to pay for me. If he wanted to, that'd be incredibly sweet, but it'd be rude to assume it. In fact, I'm more than happy to be as generous with my money as I possibly can. The tip? The dessert I talked him into sharing? It'd be on me. I'd even love to be able to cover the whole thing if I could. I'm just sweet and nice and lovely like that. Ahem.

But I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't want to offend him. He's a gentleman. (Really.) But I would still offer. But...but...but...ahhh! Lord, help me! No matter what, I knew there would be a moment when It Would Happen. The Awkward Check Dance. Even if it was just one step and not a full waltz. It was inevitable. And I was freaking out.

I started praying almost as soon as I turned the ignition on in the car. Lord. Lord! Help me! Help me help me help me!! Occasionally Matchbox Twenty lyrics would distract me, but soon enough, I'd remember and start again.

And it wasn't even a very long drive.

My prayers (read: cries of desperation) got more frantic the closer I got to the restaurant. Lord! Make it not awkward! Please! You have to make it not be awkward! LORD, HELP ME!!!

When I was five minutes away, muttering like a broken record, God suddenly spoke:

"You don't trust Me at ALL!"

Woah. Um. Oops.

I (pathetically) tried to defend myself. "Yes I do, Lord! Yes I do!"

"No, you DON'T!"

That shut me up in a hurry.

What He said next wasn't as, ahem, audible, but it was still clear: "Wasn't I the one who made this all happen? Trust that I'm going to take care of the details. Just enjoy it."

Well. It was hard to argue with that. He was totally right. (Don't everyone faint at once, now.)

We had an absolutely wonderful evening. When the check came, we were too wrapped up in conversation to even really notice it. And then, as my best friend was walking by our table on her way through the dining room, she grabbed it and brought it back...paid.

I don't think I've ever felt God raising an eyebrow and smirking at me more pointedly than in that moment.

"See...I told you!"

It's a good thing cosmic cream pie is invisible. It would've totally messed up my lip gloss.

Cheer Up, Sleepy Jean

2010-04-15T09:10:00.012-04:00

I first started an outline of this particular post in the earlier days of February, but it's taken more than two months of stewing in my head and drafting to get it to where I feel it's ready. This is one of the most precious things that I hold close to my heart, and I wanted to be sure to express it the best way I can. I hope I've succeeded.

I just want to feel real love fill the home that I live in
Cause I've got too much love
Running through my veins
Going to waste

I am a chronic daydreamer. I always have been. For as long as I can remember, I've had an extremely vivid - and active - imagination, which I admittedly have pretty much always indulged.

I used to have entire, in-depth conversations in my head with storybook characters on the bus home from elementary school. (Sara Stanley from the Avonlea series was my closest confidant in fifth grade.) I made up a whole other world called "Woodland Girls" where we lived off the land like Sam Gribley in My Side of the Mountain and made my sister and my cousin enter that world along with me. (I'm pretty sure those hours we spent in a nook in my parents' backyard amounted to a whole lot of peer pressure and them doing what I wanted to keep me happy, but, to be fair, they seemed to have fun climbing trees and eating berries.) I would stay up late at night as a teenager and imagine rapid-fire dialog between myself and my celebrity crush from television. (Anyone remember Jonathan Taylor Thomas?)

And for about a decade now, I've been dreaming about the man whom I will one day be proud to stand beside and be delighted to sleep next to every night. Unlike the fictional characters I lost myself in as a child, hopefully this is a more realistic dream.

I imagine our connection. What we'll talk about. How well he'll know me - and I him - and it'll be a closeness and intimacy with another person that's like nothing I've yet experienced.

I know that as hard as I try, I can't really know what it'll be like. I can have glimpses, and I can dream, but until it actually happens, I can't know for sure. In fact, God spoke to me a couple of years ago and said "It will be completely different than anything you could ever imagine."

And the experiences He has given me in the last two years have given me just a taste of what an incredible, wonderful surprise it will be.

You once thought of me as a white knight on his steed
Now you know how happy I can be

I was a braces-wearing, frizzy-haired, painfully awkward 17-year-old the first time I realized that there were actually other people in the world who think like I do.

While most girls my age were making out with their boyfriends in the back of a car, I was reading Stephen King's book On Writing and daydreaming my - at that moment, vastly disappointing - life away. The following ten years wouldn't see a huge amount of change in those activities, little did I know.

At this point, I honestly don't remember what most of the book is about, but there's this moment when Stephen King is talking about the Ideal Reader - the one person you write for above anyone else. For him, that person is his wife, Tabby. He thinks about her when he's writing - if she'll find something funny that he wants to be funny. He describes her laughter and how much he loves it. He calls it the jackpot when he gets her to laugh out of control, and that when he gets ahold of something with that potential, he twists it as hard as he can.

Oh yes.

I couldn't even tell you how many times I've read that one paragraph. It changed me. It made me feel like maybe I wasn't a complete freak show. (Okay, well, maybe I am and Stephen King is, too...that's also a possibility. But whatever, at least it's not just me!)

I have longed for the jackpot ever since then. Stephen King wrote that passage to instruct his readers about one of the many technicalities of writing. He had no idea that a misfit teenager in a tiny town in Pennsylvania would dog-ear that one page and would still be reading, writing, and thinking about it ten years later. For him, it was about writing. For me (perhaps because I'm a sappy girl), it was about love.

It all made such perfect sense. And since then, I've spent days' worth of hours dreaming about it.

I don't want to be a faded memory
I don't want to be the ghost that you can't shake
I want to be the real thing

More often than not, my daydreams are much better than reality - at least, they have been so far. Don't get me wrong, I've had a few of those movie-esque moments, those snippets in time where you wish you could bottle the feeling of pure glee and open it up whenever you liked, those moments (or hours) that you can still vividly remember and smile about years later. One was my 21st birthday. A couple were sprinkled throughout last year. And there were a few that happened even in the last several weeks. But, sadly, for me, they're often fleeting and far between. Also, I know that what I'm really dreaming about is more than just a moment (or even a few hours) anyway - it's about something secure, strong, and lasting - a deep friendship that blossoms into precious intimacy and God-led, unconditional love, just like Christ's love for us.

Several times in the last few years, I've thought about cutting myself off from daydreaming. Going cold turkey. Making myself climb out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off or trying to focus entirely on whatever task I have at hand, rather than drifting off into my own little fairyland as I normally do pretty much all the time. I've even tried it, forced myself to JUST STOP, because it's time for me to grow up and face reality...right?

Ultimately, as you've probably guessed, it didn't work. All I did was sporadically make myself utterly miserable until I realized there was no point in torturing myself that way. Unfortunately, they don't make patches for daydreams. And as hard as I try, I just keep losing myself in my imagination.

Because someday...oh, yes.

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Matthew 6:33

I try as best I can, every day, to do just that.

And I wait in glorious anticipation for God's perfect timing...and for the jackpot.

Tales from the Land of Boost

2010-04-01T20:28:00.004-04:00

As a general rule, I don't blog about my job (for fear of being dooced, really), but last month, Boost Mobile, the prepaid cell phone company for which I had been taking customer service calls, decided to end their home-based agent program and we were all laid off. As much as working from home was a pretty sweet gig, it did free me up to be able to finally write a post about one of the most, ah, unique experiences I've ever had in any of my many customer-service-focused places of employment.

I wrote the following little snippet in an email and sent it out to just a few close friends. In retrospect, I wish I would've documented more of my calls this way. As challenging as they could be at times, some of them were well and truly comedy gold.

Written on October 30th, 2009.

It's 7:15am this very morning. I'm about half conscious, sitting in my desk chair, wrapped up in a fleece blanket with Lottie asleep on my lap, my nearly-full mug of Awake tea whispering sweet nothings to me as I finish up the process of changing a woman's price plan. Excited that this might be a short call, I nearly tumble over my words as I say:

Me: So have I resolved all of your issues today?

Her: Yes -

From the background, a young male voice starts yelling "WAIT WAIT!! Don't hang up!" There's some rustling as he grabs the phone from her hands. Oh crap, I think. My tea and I share a longing glance at each other.

Him: Hey - are you there?

Me: I'm here!

Him: OK good! So, Imma' sing for a couplea minutes, and then you tell me what you think, ok?

Me: Ok...

He proceeds to warble out a few lines from some cheesy pop song with not very much talent but with immeasurable sincerity, then waits expectantly for my response.

Me: That was great!! (I mean, what would YOU say?)

Him: Aw, you're the most AWESOME Boost rep ever!

Moral of the story: if you need validation, call a customer service rep. Also, clearly, I would totally be the sympathetic, Paula Abdul-esque judge on American Idol.

I hope you enjoyed this Tale from the Land of Boost!

How do you like your eggs?

2010-02-06T14:44:00.009-05:00

As I've written about here before, I am, and have always been, pretty open and unguarded. I emotionally invest very deeply in the people I care about. And, as is probably predictable, it hasn't always gone well.

Maybe there is a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya

When I was a teenager and in my early 20's, I had some very disheartening experiences with people who were supposed to be my closest friends. I was lied to. I was betrayed. My love and affection were treated cheaply. My heart was snatched away from me, ripped to pieces, and hurled back in my face with a sneer - multiple times. One of my favorite quotes from Friends was Rachel's quip to Monica: "Oh, I'm sorry, did my back hurt your knife?"

It was a maddening, frustrating pattern which eventually led me into a season of hardness, bitterness, and angst. I got tough. You didn't mess with me. I was angry and volatile and if you broke my trust once, well, that was it - we were done. You only got one chance. I lived up to the "redheaded temper" stereotype and was proud to do it. Looking back, I can see how much grace God, and people like my best friend who knew me at the time and still love me now, gave me during that time.

Eventually, I let go of the bitterness as God mended my heart. I let Him break down the walls I put up within myself - not at all consciously, but it happened. Praise God.

Even so, I looked forward to the days when we'd all be older - grown up, even - and the people I trusted wouldn't do this to me anymore. I thought surely that by the ripe old age of, say, 25, I would no longer have to deal with this kind of selfishness and emotional immaturity from the people to whom I opened up my heart.

Well, I'm two years and two months past that Age of Enlightenment, and in those two months I've had the exact same thing happen to me again - and not once, but twice.

Unbelievable.

Don't feel nothing, just old scars

Toughening up around my heart

I can feel my old defenses coming back to the surface. I can feel myself getting proud, self-righteous, self-protective. I'm building those emotional walls right back up again. For weeks now, I've just given in and let myself be angry. I've walked around with anger and resentment and bitterness bubbling right beneath the surface, keeping me disappointed and disheartened and afraid of letting anyone in. I don't like it. I don't like myself this way. I feel outside of myself, like I'm wearing armor that I don't want to be wearing and that's bulky and uncomfortable but for some ridiculously stupid reason that I can't believe still exists, is necessary. For protection. From people who are supposed to be Christian adults and also, oh yeah, my friends.

Clearly, it's working out well for me so far.

My very supportive friends and family have been wonderful. They've assured me that it's not your issue, it's theirs and you did nothing wrong and many other encouraging words that logically, I recognize are absolutely true. That's helpful and reassuring, sure, but honestly, it doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't change the fact that the affection and openness and love that I freely gave was handed back to me as if it were all worthless. As if it - and therefore I - don't matter at all.

She said, 'I don't know if I've ever been good enough

I'm a little bit rusty and I think my head is caving in

And I don't know if I've ever been really loved by a hand that's touched me

And I feel like something's gonna give

And I'm a little bit angry'

It's a gray, dreary, cloudy, cold day in Raleigh today. As I was on my daily walk earlier this afternoon, I was in full-on emotional indulgence mode and thinking about how stupid and how much of a shame this all is for the hundred thousandth time. I noticed buzzards slowly circling overhead, first one, then two, then five of them all at once. Obviously they were focused on something dead in the woods beside me, but it felt like it was me they were eying up as they winged closer and closer to the ground. I thought with grim amusement how ironic it would be if one of them pooped and it landed on me. That would just top everything off quite nicely.

And then I started thinking about Jesus.

Jesus knew better than anyone what it felt like to be betrayed, to be lied to, to have His affection thrown back at Him and His trust broken. To have His heart broken by the people He cared about most.

I thought about Jesus and Thomas - after Jesus rose from the dead, Thomas didn't believe it was really Him and demanded proof. Did Jesus retort back, "Thomas! You lying sack of crap! You followed me around for three years and saw me do all those miracles and now you want proof? What's wrong with you?"? I mean, He would've been totally justified in saying that. But He didn't. He loved Thomas despite his distrust, and He forgave his unbelief. Like nothing ever happened.

Then there's Peter. Peter, who was supposed to be Jesus' best friend, who denied Him three times to save his own skin. Peter, who vehemently protested when Jesus told him he was going to do exactly that. When Peter ran up to Jesus on the beach and hugged Him, did Jesus push him away? Did He say, "Get away from me, you arrogant jerk! You had your chance, and you blew it. I can't trust you anymore! I never want to talk to you again! YOU RUINED OUR FRIENDSHIP!"? He would have been totally justified in saying that. But He didn't. Instead, He hugged him right back, and then He made him breakfast. Like nothing ever happened.

And then I thought about Judas. Now, there's a guy who's beyond any hope of forgiveness, right? He betrayed Jesus in the worst way. He's Judas. He's the guy who sold Jesus out and then felt so guilty about it that he hanged himself. Talk about a jerk, and a coward, and someone with some serious emotional issues. But then I thought - wait a minute. Judas hanged himself, yes, but suicide is not an unforgivable sin. He was obviously convicted if he felt that guilty. He obviously knew Jesus was at least innocent - if not the Son of God. That means that it's possible that Judas repented and recognized Jesus as the Son of God before he died. For all we know, Judas could be in Heaven.

That made me stop in my tracks.

For all we know, Judas could be in Heaven.

Holy crap. (In the interest of full disclosure, I feel compelled to tell you that that is exactly the phrase that echoed in my brain at that thought.)

If Judas is in Heaven, I have to imagine what Jesus would've said to him when He got back there and saw him. Would He say, "Wait...what? JUDAS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? Are you SERIOUS? Are you KIDDING ME WITH THIS? Who do you think you are? GET. OUT. NOW!"

He would be totally justified in saying that. But He wouldn't. He would probably hug Judas and cry with happiness that he had realized who He was in time to save his soul. Like nothing ever happened.

After thinking about all this, I suddenly started to feel very small and silly and like I've been wasting a whole lot of energy with my anger and resentment and emotional walls when I should be trying to be more like Jesus.

Cause maybe someday we'll figure all this out

Try to put an end to all our doubt

Try to find a way to just feel better now

And maybe someday we'll live our lives out loud

We'll be better off somehow

Someday

We all have choices. Friendship is a choice. Forgiveness is a choice. Love is a choice. The people who tried to push me out of their lives made the choice to do so. And now I have choices to make in response. It's not going to be easy or come naturally to me (obviously). It doesn't make what they did right or acceptable. It doesn't negate the heartbreak I feel. But now, it's my choice as to whether I let their actions turn me back into someone who's defensive and self-protective and that hard version of myself, or if I will, instead, let the Lord who lives in me teach me to act as He would in this situation.

I think about Jesus hugging Peter. I'm sure they both cried - Peter out of sorrow and apology, Jesus out of relief and happiness that He had his best friend back. It was Jesus' choice in that moment how to respond, and He forgave Peter. And then He made him breakfast, and they were best friends again.

That reminds me, I need to go to the grocery store. I'm nearly out of eggs. And I suddenly feel the need to keep plenty of them around. Just in case.

Holding Out for a Hero

2010-01-26T22:26:00.014-05:00

"You're supposed to be the heroine of your own life!" -Kate Winslet, "The Holiday"

A hero is a man who is afraid to run away. -English proverb

I read Jane Austen's Emma for the first time when I was 14 and promptly fell head-over-heels in love with Regency-era and Victorian literature. In fact, it was the genre I studied almost exclusively as a long-skirt-and-sweater-coat-wearing English major in college. I love the stories, and not just the romance part - because everyone knows, they only get together right at the very end! - but even more so, the story of growth and maturity and self-realization that the heroine ultimately has to go through in order to get to her happily-ever-after ending. (My I-Sound-Smart moment of the day: this type of story is called a bildungsroman in literary theory. Look at me making good use of that tuition money, Mom & Dad!)

There are many female characters in Jane Austen's books, but only one is the heroine (with the arguable exception of Sense & Sensibility). What is it that makes her different from the others? Is she the most beautiful? The most graceful? The richest? The most talented?

Nope. In fact, never.

What makes her different is that she changes. All the other female characters pretty much stay the same throughout the story. None of them are perfect, but for that matter, neither is the heroine - not by a long shot. But it's her story, and to get to the end of it, she has to grow up. Jane Austen spends hundreds of pages pounding on Elizabeth and Emma and Elinor (and Marianne) until they become women of substance - the women they need to be to step into their futures.

She humbles them. She smacks them around. She pulls the rug out from under them multiple times. She keeps on hurling things at the general vicinity of their heads until they learn to react in ways that they wouldn't have in the beginning of the book: with grace, and humility, and forgiveness, and gratefulness. Until they learn. Until they become heroines.

When I think about , oh, the last five years or so of my own life, I have to admit, that sounds pretty familiar. And I'm sure God's not done with me yet. Living like a heroine is often a minute-by-minute process at which it's so easy to fail in any one of those minutes...and in which I do fail, quite frequently. Praise God, with Him, it's the effort that counts, because otherwise, I'd be sunk.

Here's something I just recently realized, though - in Jane Austen's novels, it's not just the heroine's story - it's the hero's, too.

None of the heroes in Jane Austen's novels were perfect, either. They weren't knights in shining armor who galloped onto the scene and swept the heroine off of her feet once she was worthy of his attentions - heavens, no! In fact, all of them were downright non-heroic in the beginning. Edward Ferrars and Colonel Brandon were both passive and gutless. Mr. Knightley was a condescending lecturer. Darcy was perhaps the worst - pompous and emotionally unavailable. And these men were the heroes of their love stories.

There's always a moment in Jane Austen's novels when we're not quite sure who the hero is actually going to be. We think we know, but we keep reading because we're not positive. It's up in the air because the title of hero is not absolutely nailed down from the beginning of the story - it's up for grabs by the man who is willing to swallow his pride, to be vulnerable to the heroine, and to admit his faults and grow up. And there's a moment in each of the books when it could be either of the men in the heroine's life, because the hero is simply going to be the man who steps up when the other runs away.

Wickham could have easily been the hero of Pride and Prejudice. He had the wit and charisma that women love in men, but he was also selfish and immature and only out for what he could get - ultimately, validation. Now, honestly, those are not uncommon nor insurmountable flaws. The reason he's not the hero is because he stayed that way. Darcy could easily have been the villain, lost in his own pride and trapped behind his (also quite common, and, ahem, maddening) emotional walls. Frankly, he wasn't very likable throughout the whole book - who could forget his scathing line of, "She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me."? Ouch. That's practically unforgivable (and part of Elizabeth's lessons in becoming a heroine was to learn how to forgive him). But he did change. He made a choice - he chose to sacrifice that pride and be the hero.

Stepping into the role of hero can't be easy. Neither Elizabeth nor Emma nor Marianne were quiet, demure, shrinking wallflowers. They weren't Jane Bennets or Harriet Smiths. It would have certainly been a more peaceful existence for Darcy if he had married his boring cousin, or easier for Knightley if he'd just stayed a brother-like figure to Emma. They could have kept their distance and not gotten involved in the depth and the mess that is the heroine. But for them, that mess was worth it. Stepping up was worth it. Sacrificing their pride was worth it. All of it was worth it, in the end, because now they would get to spend the rest of their lives with the heroine, and because she's the heroine, she's worth the effort.

At the beginning of the books, it wouldn't have been worth it and they wouldn't have done it. She wasn't ready and neither was he. But then they were molded and shaped and pounded on by the author of their story, and by the end, they both had to make the choice. Without that choice, she wouldn't have been the heroine and he wouldn't have been the hero. But because they did, they are.

You're supposed to be the heroine of your own life. I won't scruple to say that I'm still learning, every day, what that really means. And because I believe in the Author of my own story, I have faith that He is teaching both me and the future hero of my life, too, how to fulfill the destiny that He has written for us together.

I can promise one thing - he'll never be bored!

It's been quite a decade.

2010-01-02T11:12:00.005-05:00

In the past ten years, I:

-got my first job, which, unbeknownst to me, would play a large hand in saving my life at the time, and also enable me to make wonderful, close friendships that I never would have otherwise
-got my first car, which I would later drive up and down the "strip" at college sorting out the many and complicated emotions of my early-20's-redheaded-girl-brain
-overcame deep, eroding depression with God's mercy and grace
-fell in love for the first time with an English musician - the first man I've ever felt could really understand me
-directed and produced a dinner theatre for my high school senior project, which got rave reviews and even a letter in the local newspaper
-graduated from high school
-left home and moved (gasp!) three hours away to college
-met a (then) rather abrasive, strong-willed girl from Long Island who would become my very best friend
-discovered in college that there are other people in the world who thought and saw the world in the same way I did - who knew?
-met a professor who opened my mind to the wonders of Victorian literature and who changed my whole outlook on life just by believing in me
-became the first person in my family to live in another country when I studied abroad in Lancaster, England
-heard the very voice of God during that year in England, and have continued to hear Him since then
-was forced to let go of my first love and had to trust God that He knew best, despite my broken heart
-returned to the States and spent a spiritually charged senior year of college, working harder than I ever have at anything to get into graduate school
-wrote a television pilot and performed a scene from it with my best friend for all the professors I looked up to at my university, as well as my family
-graduated from college with a BA in English and writing
-left the country again, this time to move to London to pursue a Master's degree
-spent the most incredibly difficult, yet faith-building and life-changing year in London that I could have possibly imagined
-cried at the beauty of it all as I walked from Piccadilly Circus to Trafalgar Square and back again
-worked with an Oscar winner as my own personal tutor and met many famous writers, directors, and producers in London
-spent a day on a film set with the producer of my favorite UK sitcom
-wrote several feature film scripts, a short film, and expanded my television series
-started this blog
-graduated with a MA in Screenwriting and Producing for Film and Television from the best media university in the UK
-moved to Raleigh, North Carolina at God's prompting
-deepened my friendship with my best friend and her husband to the point where they are now my family
-happened into a church that would change my heart, my life, and (any day now) my denomination
-found that what I really love doing is directing plays, and started a drama team in my church which has, to my own delight and amazement, affected the lives of the people there in ways I never could have even dreamed up myself
-became a mom to an adorable, affectionate, mischevious toy poodle whom I couldn't live without
-prayed specific verses from the Bible over someone for the first time in my life, and spent the following months in awe as every prayer was faithfully answered
-was dismissed from a job for which I was vastly overqualified and experienced the most humiliating 15 minutes of my life walking from my former office to my car with everything I'd had at my desk stuffed into about five plastic grocery bags because it was so unexpected
-learned how to first get the love I need from God, then how to sacrifice my pride and give love without expecting anything in return
-went through the most bitter crisis of faith I've ever had during five wretched months of unemployment and was ready to turn my back on God, but then He came through as He always does in the final countdown
-started a job in which the pay is less than I'd like and the job itself is challenging, but where I am actually appreciated by my supervisors, and that makes all the difference
-discovered that love is not a feeling, but a choice, and even though fighting for someone can be heart-wrenchingly difficult and requires the kind of strength only God can give, frankly, it's still incredibly stupid to not choose it

All in all, I grew up.

And if I spent the last decade being molded and shaped and, yes, pounded on quite a bit by God, here's hoping that this next one will progress with me taking all the lessons He shoved at me in the past ten years and moving forward, ready to do His will and further His kingdom in every area of my life.

Here I am, Lord. Send me.

Fill 'er Up!

2009-11-17T18:28:00.015-05:00

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24-25

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues, put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Colossians 3:12-14

The times during the week when I whine to God most, pretty much every week like clockwork, are Saturday night and Sunday morning before church. That's because I know I'm going to have to go to church and there are, like, people there. And while these people are all people I love, several of them are also people with whom I have very deep, emotionally intimate, and, yes, complicated relationships. Because that's what relationships are - well, real ones, anyway.

I live alone and work from home. As soul-crushingly lonely as my solitude can get sometimes (usually roundabout Friday night is when it really hits me), sometimes it would be easier to just hide away in my apartment with my poodle than put forth the effort of seeing people every Sunday morning. Because relationships take effort.

But God will just never, never, ever let me stay home. Or give up, for that matter.

One Sunday morning a few weeks ago, as I was begrudgingly getting into the shower, I was being particularly petulant:

"God, I don't want to go to church today! I don't want to see anyone! I am not feeling special! I am not feeling loved!"

"Well, that's not really the point, is it?" God shot back.

"What?"

"You want love? You've got it. Right here. I've got all the love to give you that you'll ever be able to stand. You come to Me to get your love, and then you give it to other people. That's the point." He let that sink in for a second. Then He said, "Now get moving."

I mean, He was Very Firm about this. I feared a lightning bolt from the sky if I didn't keep getting ready for church, and Heaven knows you don't want to be hit by lightning when you're in the shower.

And, truth be told, I knew that already.

If God has taught me anything this year, it's that pride is way overrated. Self-sacrifice will get you much further in relationships than being self-righteous. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. If God tells you to, don't even be afraid to look stupid. A second of teetering out on the ledge is nothing compared to the absolute joy that comes with the healing of a broken relationship and the crumbling of emotional walls.

And even if you do fall, so what? The God of the universe is there to catch you.

I can tell you, though, I can't do it by myself. I don't have enough love or patience or energy in me to give what is required to make all of my messy, complicated, deep, rich, wonderful relationships work. Often, if I had a choice, I'd stay curled up in bed with my poodle, whose only requirement for loyalty is that I pet her and don't let her starve. But then I'd miss out on oh, so very much.

The secret is just what God spoke to me that Sunday morning - and what He constantly reminds me when I'm feeling wrung out or worn out or at the end of my emotional tether - that He has all the love I'll ever need. He is love. He has to fill me up first, and only then can I give love to everyone else.

Without Him, I have nothing in me to give. With Him, I have all the love in the world to give - and there's always more where it came from.

And all the effort - the vulnerability, the self-sacrifice, the climbing out on a limb and shakily stretching out your hands - is so totally worth it.

Facing Our Giants

2009-11-15T14:03:00.011-05:00

David said to the Philistine, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will hand you over to me, and I'll strike you down and cut off your head. Today I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD's, and he will give all of you into our hands."

As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. 1 Samuel 17:45-49

We all have giants in our lives. They're mean, sniveling, mocking, huge, seemingly insurmountable obstacles. And the worst thing is, they're usually not great big, muscle-bound bullies threatening to kill us - instead, they're parasites within us, parasites of fear or doubt or insecurity, those parts about ourselves that we hate more than anything else that trap us in our own personal prisons and keep us from experiencing the fullness of life that God has for us.

Most of our giants are our very selves.

I can tell you, mine certainly is. The most insidious, loathsome, ever-present giant in my life is crippling, suffocating insecurity. Worthlessness. The feeling that I am never good enough. I feel as if I'm never going to be good enough - pretty enough, funny enough, graceful enough - for a man to really love me. I'm never going to be a good enough writer to merit anyone giving me a chance to write professionally. I'm never going to be a good enough friend to make people want to stick around when they inevitably find out that I'm not perfect in one way or another. What it all boils down to is that I feel like I am quite simply not worth the effort. And as hard as I try, I'm never going to be.

This giant spreads its venom into every area of my life, causing me to panic, to get defensive and self-protective, and, often, to ruin what could have been a really lovely experience by allowing my insecurity to take control. It's devastating for me every single time it happens, and yet I feel powerless to stop it. Probably because I am.

Oh, I've tried many times to conquer this, to just muster up some kind of self-esteem or confidence, but it never lasts, because it's all my own invention. I think I can solve it myself, can tackle this giant on my own, and set about trying to just fix it because it needs fixing and I'm ruining my own life, for crying out loud, this has to stop!

But it never works when I just try to fix it on my own, and I always end up right back in the same place, crying myself to sleep, crying out of self-inflicted loneliness, crying out to God for help.

All I have are tiny little pebbles and my giant laughs in my face, just like Goliath did to David.

Here's the thing, though: it wasn't really the rock that felled Goliath. It was God honoring David's faith.

David took that little stone in his hand and he believed that God could do it. He knew he couldn't do it by himself. He walked up to Goliath with full confidence not in himself, but in his Lord.

I think we can all learn from David's example, that the best way to face your giant is to take a deep breath, clutch your slingshot, march out there, stare that giant straight in the eye and just lob your pebble at him as hard as you can. The key is not your angle or your precision or the force of your strength or the size of your rock. It's simply that you took the first step.

God will do the rest.

In Spite of Ourselves

2009-11-12T22:36:00.003-05:00

I'm in Applebees tonight, enjoying a half-priced appetizer and some much-needed time with my very neglected writing tablet. Sitting across from me, at the next table, is a forty-something woman in a faux-fur, leopard print vest and a short jeans skirt, her hand on the arm of her cowboy-hat-and-boot-wearing companion. They've been deep in conversation since I sat down ten minutes ago.

As I was scribbling something in my tablet, they suddenly burst out into simultaneous laughter, causing me to start and look up from my (obviously) extremely deep thoughts. Shortly thereafter, the man got up and sort of tottered on his boot-heels to the bathroom. Ms. Wild Kingdom stayed at the table, staring out into nowhere, a giddy yet completely contented smile on her face. She glanced down at her hands, then back up absently at the window, her smile deepening as she thought about what had just happened. While he was gone, she played with her drink, ran her fingers through her hair, and straightened her vest, but her smile never faded.

I know exactly how she feels.

It's fascinating to watch two people do this dance. Sharing stories. Trying out witticisms. Leaning in to understand. Nodding appreciatively. Delighting in each other's laughter. I like you, do you like me?

And hoping against hope that the answer is yes.

With these two, at least, it seems obvious.

The funny thing is, these two people probably wouldn't fit this well with anyone else in the world. The woman obviously dressed up for this evening, but I wouldn't be caught dead in a furry, leopard-print vest. Maybe she's a little bit wild, a little bit challenging, and he's just the cowboy she needs to keep up with her and reign her in. Maybe he's stubborn, bucking stereotypes and challenging rules, and she has just the right amount of firecracker in her to match him and give him a run for his money. Maybe this is the first time in their lives that they've felt this way. Maybe neither of them ever imagined they'd find someone who fit with them this perfectly.

Maybe this woman's been waiting her whole life to wear her furry, leopard-print vest and stare into her drink grinning like an idiot while her date is in the bathroom at Applebees.

I know exactly how she feels.

I know this post isn't particularly funny, nor does it offer anything really profound about God, but it was right there in front of me tonight, so I felt like I had to write about it.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

Love is like hope. And we keep on hoping in spite of ourselves. -Steve Dublanica, Waiter Rant

The Song I Didn't Expect to Make Me Cry

2009-10-10T16:42:00.002-04:00

I went to a Rob Thomas concert last week (that's the concert I was talking about in my previous post), and my goodness, it was absolutely incredible. Rob is my favorite recording artist and hearing him peform his songs live that I know and love so much was a wonderful, moving, and emotional experience. I expected my response to be that way for the songs that I already loved, like "Cradlesong," "Someday," and "Her Diamonds."

And then there was this song, "Ever the Same," from his 2005 album "Something to Be." I've heard this song so many times before (on the album, it comes right after "Lonely No More" with its amazing bridge lyrics) and until that night I'd thought it was pretty good, yet not really one of my favorites or anything. I don't know why, I can't really explain it, but when he sang this song that night last week, something about the music and the lyrics and the hush that fell over the crowd and the way he sang and standing in that ampitheatre and where I am now in my life and everything that's happened in the last weeks and months and year came together, and quite unexpectedly, I just started crying.

Thank you, Rob Thomas, for that song, and thank you, God, for giving me the opportunity to hear it. It was just what I needed.

Surprising Symphonies

2009-10-01T01:56:00.006-04:00

In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9

Two years ago, I never could have imagined.

Two years ago, I drove down from my hometown in Pennsylvania to visit my best friends who'd just gotten married and made their new home in Raleigh. I went to a concert at the Koka Booth Amphitheatre in Cary. I drove there myself, white-knuckled but determined. I sat on the lawn, pressed up against the iron fence that separated us in the "general attendance" from the people with real seats. I spent most of the concert praying. And God spoke to me there, that night, through the humidity and the screaming fans and my paranoia that my straightened hair would be, like, totally ruined - He spoke. He said, "Move here. Now."

I thought I knew why. I thought I knew what I was getting into. More than that, I thought this was just going to be a stopping point along the way to my ultimate destination - Los Angeles and a career as a screenwriter, with my own sitcom. I'd be fulfilled, content, happy - at the pinnacle of my career. It was a plan! Raleigh was just a minor distraction - time to spend with my friends, time to write, time to prepare. It wasn't supposed to matter. It wasn't supposed to change my life.

I could never have imagined that God would use Raleigh, and, even more so, a little Southern Baptist church with no more than 60 people in it at any given time, to grow me up in ways I didn't even know I needed to grow.

But He did. It has. Unbelievably so. And oh, my goodness, did I need to grow.

When I was younger, I used to sit in church and look at the people around me and wonder how they could all bear to lead such mundane lives. My parents worked hard to provide for us, but all I could see was the structure and the schedules and the stress, the minivan and the complaints about their coworkers and the feeling that they'd given up on their dreams. I vowed that my life would never be like that, controlled by other people doing what I didn't want to do. I wouldn't be fenced in by a small town or a 9-5 job - not me! I couldn't look forward to a life where the highlight of the year would be a five-day vacation to Busch Gardens.

This is not to say my childhood or my family was perfect, but there was so much that I couldn't see.

I remember lying in bed at night listening to my parents whispering and laughing together from their bedroom through the wall. It didn't even dawn on me to notice how close they were, and how much that really mattered. I didn't realize how much my mother supported my father when he was working towards his Ph.D., or that he was, in turn, working that much to support her and me and my younger sister. I got tired of listening to them talk about their jobs - both in the same school district, my goodness, the discussions were endless - when really they were (mostly) building each other up in love. To me, their lives were dull and monotonous - I couldn't see how much of a difference they were both making in the schools, my father as a principal and my mother as a counselor. I didn't recognize that hundreds of kids' lives were changed - possibly even saved - by the work they did. I thought it was all just dreadfully boring.

I couldn't see it, but their life together was - and still is - a meaningful and exciting adventure.

When I moved to Raleigh two years ago, it was big and scary and exciting, but if I'm being honest, it wasn't for adventure. It was more of an escape from my parents’ house and from my tiny Pennsylvania town. As I said, I thought this was just a stopping point, a place to bide my time. I was in full-on waiting mode - waiting to get good enough, waiting to get to LA - waiting for my life to really start.

God led me to start a drama team in the church my friends and I happened to sort of fall into (heh, like one ever really “falls into” anything when God is involved) about a month after I moved - I thought, to simply get better at directing and writing for the stage, to prepare me for Hollywood. It was just a little church, after all - hardly anyone would even see the plays we performed. It wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

I was fully prepared to bide my time - that my time here would be doing just that, and nothing else. What else was going to happen to me in Raleigh, North Carolina?

But let me tell you, I have never had to fight for anything harder in my life.

Ever since I moved, it’s been an uphill battle. I’ve fought to continue living down here, through three jobs and three apartments. I’ve fought loneliness, depression, heartbreak, and spiritual ridicule. I’ve believed for something that it seemed ridiculous to believe for – many things, actually - including something as simple as mere survival on my own, and as complicated as relationships that God just won’t let me give up on no matter how much I may beg Him on a weekly basis to let me throw up my hands and throw in the towel.

It’s been a whole lot of fighting for just a stopping point…and that’s probably because I’ve come to realize that, duh, it’s not just a stopping point.

This is life. It’s happening now, and it’s been happening the last two years that I’ve been here in Raleigh. It’s partly been a time of preparation, yes, but for an adventure far more unexpected and yet more real than anything I ever dreamed up sitting in the pew at church as a little girl. It has also been a time of intense spiritual growth, close friendships, seeing the fruit of the Spirit, watching God work, and, more than anything else, learning how to trust in more powerful and necessary ways than ever before.

All of this has made me realize that the greatest scheme of all is simply doing God’s will in my life, every single day. It’s about letting God speak through me in whatever capacity He chooses to affect the people around me and bring them closer to Him. It’s about allowing Him to use me, use what He’s put in me, to show Himself. And it’s not about where I am or even really what I’m doing, but it’s about the people that I’m close to, the people that I’m with and the relationships I have, that make life an adventure even in the most seemingly mundane of circumstances.

Even just within a little Southern Baptist church with no more than 60 people in it at a time…God can and will work. He will work through me. He will work miracles. He will heal, change, restore, and love.

I may never get to LA, and honestly, it doesn’t really matter to me anymore. I trust God. I know He has my life in His hands and He has a perfect plan for it. If I’ve learned anything this year, I’ve learned to trust Him and that He knows exactly what He is doing every step of the way.

On Monday night, I went back to the Koka Booth Amphitheatre to another concert. I went to see a different musician, and I am a totally different person than I was two years ago. The lyrics to songs I’ve heard since 2005 had new meaning. The artist's new songs from this summer had a poignancy they wouldn’t have had when I was first there. I cried at things I’d never have noticed before, and before the concert, during the sudden downpour that soaked all of us at the outdoor amphitheatre, I clung to my jacket that I held over my head to try to protect my perfectly curled hair (why does my hair always get ruined there?) and prayed in Jesus’ name that the rain would stop and that the concert would be able to continue. It did. Praise God.

And God spoke to me there, again. This time, instead of “Move. Now.” He said, “Just wait and see what I am going to do.”

Two years ago, shortly after I moved (right around this time, actually), He spoke to me during the first Homecoming service I attended at my church. He interrupted the sermon and kept repeating, “You can’t do it. I have to do it. Let me do it.” I thought I knew what He meant at the time. Turns out, He had an even greater plan for me than I thought He did.

Like I said, I’ve learned to trust God when He speaks. So I am - waiting, that is, to see what He is going to do.

Lord…it’s all Yours. Do it!!

What About Now?

2009-06-29T17:17:00.018-04:00

In the morning, O LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. Psalm 5:3

Three weeks ago Tuesday, at approximately 6:15AM:

God: *poke*
Me: *sleeping*
God: Psst. Elisse!!
Me: Umpfh.
God: Elisse! Wake up!!
Me: God?? What is it??
God: Get up!!
Me: *yawns* *looks at the clock* *rolls back over*
God: ELISSE!! WAKE UP NOW!!
Me: Whyyy?
God: Because great things are about to happen! You can't keep sleeping when I have such wonderful things in store for you! I'm too excited to keep watching you sleep!!!
Me: But you've been telling me this for weeks!
God: I know!! Isn't it awesome?! So you have to get up!!
Me: When are these amazing things going to happen? Today?
God: Mayyyybe.
Me: Just tell me!
God: It's a surprise!
Me: I hate surprises!
God: I know - that's why I'm telling you that great things are going to happen!
Me: WHEN??
God: Soon!!
Me: Today?
God: Could be!
Me: Tomorrow?
God: You never know!
Me: This week?
God: If I told you, it would spoil the surprise!
Me: This isn't like that time last May when you told me something great was going to happen and I had to wait until January, is it?
God: And wasn't that totally worth it?
Me: That is SO not the point!
God: Didn't I time that perfectly and then do great and powerful things through it?
Me: Still not the point!
God: And didn't I remind you of that very thing JUST LAST MONTH so that you would believe me now when I keep saying that GREAT THINGS are going to happen?
Me: I don't see how that's relevant.
God: Didn't I know exactly what I was doing then?
Me: ...yes.
God: Don't I always know what I am doing?
Me: Well, you don't have to rub it in.
God: Well, obviously I do because you are NOT LISTENING TO ME. I'm telling you to GET UP and BE EXCITED because GREAT THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN!!
Me: WHEN??
God: Geesh, you are high maintenance!
Me: What?! I can't believe my own God just called me high maintenance!
God: Well, I'm allowed! I made you!
Me: Well, then, YOU made me this way!
God: Touché.
Me: Ha!
God: And by the way, NO, your hair does not look like a chia pet at that length when you style it curly.
Me: What?!
God: I got sick of listening to you wonder about it for 12 hours straight yesterday instead of being excited about the GREAT THINGS THAT ARE GOING TO HAPPEN!!
Me: I am excited! YAY!!
God: Good!! That's more like it!!
Me: Y'know, I'd be even MORE excited if I knew WHEN these great things were going to happen...
God: *facepalm*
God: Have I ever lied to you?? Just TRUST ME!!

No, He has never lied to me. Three weeks later, He's only just starting to show me some of these great things, and I can tell they're definitely going to be worth the wait, so I am waiting...expectantly!

From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. John 1:16

I'm Blue!

2009-06-25T23:19:00.002-04:00

I just took the Color Code personality test while watching "Will & Grace" reruns on Lifetime and cuddling with my poodle, which I'm pretty sure makes me a total cliche, but the results were remarkably accurate, I have to say:

Definitely Blue

Congratulations, Elisse, you are a BLUE personality. The Core Motivation that drives you through life is "Intimacy". It is important to note that this does not mean sexual intimacy. BLUES need connection - the sharing of rich, deep emotions that bind people together. As a BLUE, you will often sacrifice a great deal of time, effort, and/or personal convenience to develop and maintain meaningful relationships throughout your life.

BLUES seek opportunities to genuinely connect with others, and need to be understood and appreciated, especially by their partner. Everything you do as a BLUE has to be quality-based, or you won't do it at all. You are incredibly loyal to friends, employers, employees, and above all to your significant other. Whatever or whomever you commit to is your sole (and soul) focus. As a BLUE, you love to serve and will give freely of yourself in order to nurture the lives of others.

BLUES have distinct preferences and are the most controlling of the four personalities, although they may not acknowledge (or even realize) the fact. Your code of ethics is remarkably strong and you expect others (not only your partner and those closest to you, but everyone) to live honest, committed lives as well. You enjoy sharing meaningful moments in conversation with your partner as well as remembering special life events (e.g. birthdays and anniversaries).

It's kind of creeping me out how true that all is.

Wanna take it too? You can find it here - you have to be, like, reflective and stuff, but it's fun!

Stream of Consciousness Post at 2AM...don't say I didn't warn you.

2009-06-24T01:55:00.008-04:00

I am not myself right now...and if I'm being honest, I haven't really been, at least consistently, for weeks.

Oh, sure, I have an excuse - that whole unemployment thing. It's a "difficult time." I feel like people nearly wince when they approach me to ask about it because it's as if I'm walking around visibly bleeding all over the place.

But I don't want that to be an excuse. I have promises from God! I've been given so many encouraging words from Him, firsthand and through others! I don't want my circumstances to affect me - to change me - to make me someone I don't want to be.

God has been jumping around like a divine Mexican jumping bean for weeks, more excited than I've ever felt Him, about the wonderful things that He's going to do for me and in my life. He's given me words and then fulfilled them. He's given me countless signs and confirmations. He's even spoken audibly to me, saying, "I am going to do it!!"

And yet, still, I'm blocked. I'm frustrated. I can't write - I can barely speak! My mind is a vast wasteland, dry as the Old West with tumbleweeds rolling by (and, apparently, lame metaphors like that one). On the rare occasion I do think of something to say, it usually ends up being something bitingly sarcastic, and then I seem mean and horrible to everyone within earshot. Either that, or I'm just silent, and I sit like a jealous five-year-old, brooding and pouty as I watch others get to be witty and funny and light while I am the personification of epic failure. It turns me into the worst version of myself: insecure, panicky, and generally ~emo~...and not in the cool way, either, believe me.

I won't describe the several recent events that brought me to this conclusion, or the utter stupidity going on in my brain that caused me to nearly burst into tears as I was driving home from my friends' apartment tonight. But as it happened, and those old, familiar feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness came over me again, and as I finally came to the realization that this isn't me, I'm not myself, I'm beyond this, for crying out loud!...God spoke to me:

"You can either stay upset about this and dwell on it and make it that much worse, or you can ask Me to heal and restore your spirit and vivacity and humor...and make you you again."

I mean...which one would you choose?

I just hope He realizes the magnitude of what He offered to do, cause I am totally taking Him up on it, starting, like, right now.

The joy of the Lord is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10

Cosmically Cream-Pied, Best Friend Edition

2009-06-22T15:00:00.011-04:00

My best friend and I have known each other for nearly eight years now - since we were freshmen in college. Suffice it to say that we've been through a lot together and we know each other quite well. While there are many more where these came from, I thought I'd share a few of the interchanges we've had over the past year or so.

As she's mercilessly beating me at a video game:
Her: A girl being good at video games automatically adds, like, five points in a guy's opinion.
Me: So that's why you're married and I'm not?
Her: Exactly.

***

Me: I hate my life!
Her: I hate your life too!

***

Needing boy advice, I asked her about her husband:
Me: How did you first tell him you were interested in him??
Her: I walked up and Frenched him.
Me: ...*blink*
Her: Well, you asked!

***

A recent instant-message conversation:
Me: I took Lottie to walk at Lake Lynn tonight
Me: it's frickin' GORGEOUS
Me: it's amazing
Me: and there are like 10 different kinds of water fowl
Her: wow
Her: you could say ducks and stuff, but you said water fowl

***

I think we'd both be different people without each other...at least, I know I would.

From One Redhead to Another

2009-06-05T00:11:00.010-04:00

The king is enthralled by your beauty; honor him, for he is your lord. Psalm 45:11

An open letter to my dear friend, soul-sister, and fellow fiery redhead, Kayla:

You are lovely.

I truly don't know where I would be without you, and I don't even want to think about it. Your faith has been such an inspiration to me, and your energy and vivacity and tenacity have kept me both grounded and afloat more times than I can count. You are smart and passionate and spunky and you bring light and laughter and joy into the heart of our Daddy and Lord.

He loves you so very much. He delights in you. He is absolutely captivated by you. And He can't wait to show you how much He loves you and the amazing plans He has for your life. I am so excited for you in these future days and weeks - excited for you to spend such focused, intimate, intense time with Him. I know you will experience His love in a way that will leave your heart and your life changed forever.

And at the right time - in His perfect time - I pray that He brings the man that He has for you into your life - a man who will see you the way that our Daddy and Lord sees you, a man of morals and character and integrity who knows our God in the same powerful, personal, life-directing way that you do. I pray for God to bring you a man who will be able to meet you in faith and in passion, a man who will stand up and pray over you and your family in the name of Jesus because he knows how and he knows it will work. I pray for you a man who knows who he is in Christ and who is not only deep and mature in spirit, but, even more importantly, is a man of strength who is willing and eager to pursue you and fight for you every single day for the rest of your lives together. I am confident that our Daddy has created men like this for both of us - men after His own fierce, valiant, passionate heart, instilled with His dreams and called for His purpose, that He has created us to support and sow into and love with all the feistiness and pitbull faith that He has given both of us.

So, during this defining time in your life, let Him love you. Let Him prepare you for the wonderful future He has for you. Meet Him in this time, and cherish this solitude with Him. As He is preparing you, He will be preparing him too, and preparing your futures both separately and together. He will make it clear where you are to go and what you are to do next, in His will and with His blessing. The waiting may be hard, but it will be worth it.

I can't wait to hear all about what He speaks to you!

All my love,

Your big-soul-sister and friend,

Elisse

P.S. In light of our recent conversation - and speaking of heroes - I thought I'd show you why this one is right at the top of my Favorite Animated Movies list:

I KNOW, RIGHT? *grin*

Fascinating.

2009-06-04T15:00:00.032-04:00

Ever since my friends dragged me (and by "dragged," I mean "invited me to go along and offered to pay") to the Star Trek movie on Memorial Day, I've been entrenched in a state of what some people would call "fangirling," but because I am actually remarkably self-aware, I am choosing to call "channeling my affection," about the film itself and also about a specific character. (When this sort of, ahem, reaction happens to you roughly 116 times over a span of oh, say, a quarter of a century, you tend to get pretty good at, ahem, pinpointing the emotion.)

And which character has captured my attention, you ask? Is it the dashing, brazen hero Kirk? The gruff but ruggedly handsome "Bones" McCoy? The impish and appropriately-accented Scotty? Heh, no. Instead, I have become totally intrigued by the smart, serious, withdrawn, dutiful, emotionally repressed yet somehow still intensely mysterious...Spock. Spock, the victim and yet victor of his Vulcan heritage, softened by his human mother, passionate in his quest for excellence, with flashes of depth that most people only pretend to fake, and my gosh what I wouldn't give to see him to smile just once...Spock.

Anyone who knows me at all will be totally unsurprised by this.

The only problem I had with the film was Spock's relationship with Uhura. It just seemed competely improbable to me that it would happen that easily. I mean, how did they even meet? Spock walks up to Uhura and goes, "Hi, I'm Spock. I'm Vulcan. Vulcans repress their emotions, so I have no idea how to express anything I'm feeling, ever. WANNA MAKE OUT?"

Pft. Right. Why don't we all just hop on a spaceship and fly to...oh wait.

What are they going to do for the next movie - get married and have a bunch of Vulcan-human kids running around Kirk's chair playing lasertag with the phasers?

I know, I know, I'm poking holes in the otherwise airtight logic of the Star Trek universe, but I'm just saying.

Plus, honestly, it's just (lest I offend my die-hard Trek-loving friends)...not-quite-stellar storytelling. It's instant gratification. We never see Spock struggle with realizing his feelings for Uhura, or her struggle with his inability to return her feelings for him as soon as she'd like. We don't get the thrilling sensation of longing glances or barely-missed opportunities or gazes held a little too long but then dropped in pitiable shyness or a sudden surge of stupidly stubborn pride. We don't get to yell "WHY CAN'T YOU SEE IT?!" at the screen and wait with baited breath until the day when these two characters, after months or years of drawn-out expectation, finally have a life-changing experience either together or separately and realize they can't live without each other and go running into each other's arms - walls broken down and hearts - even Vulcan - exposed at long last.

Perhaps I should remind myself that Star Trek is science fiction and not, in fact, a romantic comedy. It was not written by Jane Austen, nor is it a sitcom set in late 1990's Manhattan where the characters all hang out at Central Perk. Also, apparently, the central theme of Star Trek does not totally revolve around Spock learning how to understand and express his emotions. I mean, it's there, but there's, like, other stuff too.

But I bet it would reach a whole new audience of 21st-century Elizabeth Bennets if it was.

Oh look, something shiny!

2009-06-04T13:36:00.005-04:00

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26

Last night, I got home from watching a movie at my friends' apartment and checked my email before I went to sleep. Sitting there in my inbox was an outright rejection from a local business where I had applied only hours before to be a grant and contract writer. I'd seen the ad late yesterday afternoon on Craigslist and promptly added it to my now more than 60 job applications, getting very excited because I seemed to fit all of the qualifications and maybe someone would pay me to write!! Apparently, they did not feel the same way, and didn't even need to mull it over for more than four hours before sending me an email in return that, to summarize, read "Um, no."

It was 1AM. It was late and I was tired and it hit harder than it probably would have at, say, 1PM, but I got very down when I read the email and immediately decided to break out the streamers and punch for an all-out pity party. I clicked compose and was preparing to type out a group email to, like, EVERYONE I KNOW saying "WOE IS ME, PLEASE PRAY BECAUSE I AM DROWNING IN JOBLESS QUICKSAND"...but then Lottie started barking shrilly that she had to pee and I got distracted.

EVERYONE I KNOW is now breathing a collective sigh of relief and thanking God for tiny poodle bladders.

Now there's a sentence I bet you never thought you'd read.