Crossroads.

I need direction. A myriad of paths are before me... but I can not fathom setting out on any of them in my own wisdom. I want His best. I need His leading. I desire His guidance.

Oh Father... where am I to go? What am I to do?

"my soul felt its worth..."

Downtown on the steps of the Millennium Center I stood, numb hands grasping a small, wax candle. As the pastor spoke and his words rippled through the crowd of my brothers and sisters, as well as the curious onlookers, I contemplated this past year. As I allowed my heart and mind to grow quiet my reflections took me even further back, back to when my heart, like the candle, was formed of cold, hard wax. Unbending. Unbreaking.
And as I reflected I noticed a glow spreading through those gathered together against the biting wind. From one to another it grew, until finally someone turned to me, extending a flame to light the wick I held. My candle ignited and the warm glow quickly spread from my hands to my face to my heart.
And then, just as quickly, a gust of wind extinguished my unprotected flame. My revere was snuffed out as well. There I stood in the midst of a crowd of lit faces, holding a candle the same as theirs but feeling like a fraud. Mine was not lit.
Someone reached out and re-lit my candle. The light once again illumined my face. And as I began to join in to "Silent Night" my soul, once again warmed, heard the precious voice of my Savior, "a wick can always be re-lit."

Merry Christmas. Remember this season His Love and His Grace.

The North Wind.

I'm feeling that North Wind start to tug again. I'm feeling at times a gentle nudge and at other times a strong pull to be on the move again. Will this gypsy blood of mine ever settle down?

I am content. Truly. For the first time I have really learned and been given the grace to live out that secret to being content. Is it 100% of the time? No. But 89.2%? Yes.

Even with this contentment with what I have and where I am at I find still that I am unsettled with who I am and what I am accomplishing. There has got to be more that He has called me to do than to "get by" when it comes to work.

I am odd. I recognize this fact. But I think it is partly that oddity that I have cause to wonder what specific tasks He has formed me to be able to accomplish.

Time is flying by. I have been given this season where I am relatively free of obligation. Nothing is really tying me down to any specific place or position. I want to make the most of this time. I want to be productive.

My desire is to be used by Him, for His glory. What am I doing now that could be classified as such?

I cry out, "here am I! Send me!" but I do not know where to go.

What has been going on since November 28??

Something is happening. Something is changing. I feel like I unknowingly stepped through or across or around something and now I am in a world that I don't understand. Playing a game of which the rules are new and foreign to me.

I can't tell you how many times in the past few weeks I have found myself uttering, "what in the world?"

Oh dear... this will be either really good or not so much.

One thing led to another...

Normally a title like that would be followed by an admittance of a mistake on my part. Not this time.

Tonight one thing led to another and in the end I was blessed by a wonderful time with my dad. I was reading back through some of my old blogs while he was working on his computer across the room from me. Occasionally I would chuckle at something and he would look up questioningly. I started to read them aloud and an hour passed of being able to share my depths that come through in my writings with my dad who is sometimes unable to process them.

What a blessing. What a treasure. Thank you, Father. You have given me a good example of who You are as Father with the father I have here. I am blessed.

According to Google...

So I've done this before a few years ago and it randomly came back to mind... and I was bored so, eh? Why not?

After typing "Stephanie needs" into Google search, these are the results:

- Stephanie needs some help! Look at those pants!
- Stephanie needs behavior modification.
- Stephanie needs a date for Valentine's Day.
- Stephanie needs you bad.
- Stephanie needs to get the women together in an alliance. (Ha!)
- Stephanie needs a new story line.
- Stephanie needs a sound proofed home to protect her.
- Stephanie needs a strong, manly shoulder to lean on (preferably an alpha one).
- Stephanie needs a family who can help her strive to participate in structured recreational and social activities.
- Stephanie needs to be less annoying and should not try to make story lines for herself be trying to steal Lauren's new guy. (Sorry Lauren, whoever you are.)

Ok, there were more but at the moment what Stephanie really needs is to be doing something productive.

More Quotes.

And while I have my notebook in front of me (Lindsey, you're influential) I thought I might as well jot down a few others that I have.

One night at my house...
Dad: (singing the wrong words, off key, to a song... loudly and with gusto.)
Me: Dad, how do you expect me to ever be able to bring someone home?
Dad: Exactly. Method, my dear. Method.

And an afternoon with Emily...

"Holding hands is me putting out." - Emily M.

"We locked fingers - does that make a baby?" - Emily

"I don't linger unless they've paid for a good dinner." - Ok, that one was me

"If everyone had a glass of wine before church the Spirit would have mroe room to move." - me again

"Church is not a sitcom. Everything is not supposed to be resolved in half an hour." - Emily (brilliant!)

Our afternoons are productive! I miss you.

From the Pulpit.

I have an amazing pastor. The depth, the insight, the discernment and wisdom - all of the intensity makes the funny things he says stand out all the more! Below are some of my favorites...

"You can pray for a space ship if you want but I think we are called to live in the middle of this - and to live strong."

"I perceived that this was a set up." -on an opportunity that came to witness to someone

"You really had to be a fly on a camel's hump to hear what was going on." -on conversations between Jesus and his disciples

"Intimacy with God doesn't mean ecstasy pills. Living for God is not some crescendo moment."

"You buy roses and all the petals fall off and you're left with sticks full of thorns. That's life."

"The honeymoon phase: you think the light at the end of the tunnel is the beaches of Bermuda. No! It's a 90 mph train headed for your face!"

"I hate the book of James. 'Count it all joy?!'"

"It is said, 'all things happen for a reason,' but it may be more biblical-y accurate to say, 'all things that happen will be redeemed.'"

There's more but I don't have them in front of me.

I love church.

Confirmation.

Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

Jeremiah 29:5-7

The Oddest Thing.

I went to church this morning - and God was there. How has this become an occurrence that would surprise me?

What the -?!

I have not cursed as vehemently as I did this morning in a long time. For the sake of my conscience I will edit my remarks here.

This is the most incredible bull- I have ever seen so blatantly upheld. Oh. My. Word. Can people really be blind to this!?!?!

http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/10/30/obama.effigy/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

(I just noticed how "CRIME" is in capital letters.)

"Two men have been arrested in connection with an effigy of Sen. Barack Obama that was hung outside a building at the University of Kentucky in Lexington, police said Thursday.

Joe Fischer, left, and Hunter Bush were arrested on disorderly conduct and other charges, police said.

Authorities found a life-size effigy of the Democratic presidential candidate hanging from a tree outside the school's Mines and Minerals building on Wednesday morning, police said.

Police said they arrested Joe Fischer, 22, a senior at the university, and Hunter Bush, 21, a former student at Bluegrass Community and Technical College.

'This was a serious incident. It caused a lot of wounds to be opened from racial tension,' Monroe said."

GRRAH! (That's me screaming through gritted teeth.)

Does no one remember this story????

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/california/la-me-palineffigy28-2008oct28,0,3849487.story

"Los Angeles sheriff's officials say the Halloween display isn't a hate crime. Authorities are keeping an eye on the house to make sure the situation doesn't get out of hand."

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/washington/2008/10/sarah-palin-e-1.html

"A California couple who hung a controversial effigy of Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin from a noose off the side of their house have removed the display under pressure from city officials."

There were no arrests in that case!! WHAT THE HECK PEOPLE! If those two men are to be arrested then the other two should as well. The "couple" in California took the effigy down, yes, after a stern talking to. Psh.

I think I'm going to be sick. Normally I can process through the load of manure that comes from the media and society as a whole with relative calm but this... it's too much.

******

After calling the University of Kentucky and speaking with several people, including some in the President's office, I have calmed down some. I recognize that different states have different laws. I'm all for that - more power to the states. But, gah, this is more than that.

Too bad those boys weren't a black California "couple." They'd be on their way to class today.

CDO Confessions.

C.D.O. (O.C.D. in alphabetical order) is no laughing matter... except when it comes to me. I have a confession to make :

Hi, my name is Stephanie. (Hi, Stephanie.) And I have C.D.O.

I readily and gratefully admit to you that it is not as bad as it once was. God's grace has broken many old patterns, habits and strongholds. But much like perfectionism and people-pleasing, anal-ness, to a degree, can never be completely healed - just brought under control. (I happen to be a recovering perfectionist and people-pleaser as well.)

When I was younger, 9-14 years old I'd say, I was a classic case. I counted steps constantly. (1,2,3. 1,2. 1,2,3. 1,2. - no, really.) And it was to a point where if the stairs didn't match the pattern or there weren't enough tiles I would skip steps or purposefully miscount. If I couldn't complete the pattern there was unrest. Likewise, if I was in a new place and the pattern worked perfectly I felt much more at ease.

So this morning as I was getting things together in the kitchen I came face to face with a "tick" that I didn't realize I still have.

As confession is good for the soul I confide to you that (in Stephanie's world) cookies should always be given in multiples of three. (If they are large and it is one serving, one cookie suffices.) Under no circumstance should someone be handed two cookies or a plate of cookies come to a number not divisible by three. (Ie. 4, 8, 11, 14, 20, etc.)

As some of you are rolling your eyes and shaking your heads, let me assure you that I realize most of this is more anal-ness rather than O.C.D. God has saved me from a lot more than I realize on a day to day basis.

So there you have it. *Whew* Glad I got that off my chest.

Political Thoughts.

Below is part of an email I sent to a friend regarding politics. I wrote it all out and once I reread it thought I may as well repost it here.

--------

As far as third party stuff goes - I think that, if God is merciful to our country and it continues to be a blessed, capitalistic republic (not a given with this upcoming election) that we will see the rise of a third party. Especially as our generation matures to the political age of 35. Neither party is representing a majority of Americans. Eventually, I pray, that people will open their eyes and take a stand. As the dear old saint in wal-mart told me yesterday, "people just have to get off their ass and get going." (I love her!!)

I am voting for McCain. I'll admit that, along with a large number of Americans, I was distraught with the choice until Palin's nomination. I don't think she is the be all and end all - but it does give me hope.

The American church needs to wake up. The acute stupor brought on by drinking the enemy's poison has silenced us. I try not to give in to fear, but as I wonder what it will take to wake this comatose giant, I look at what could possibly be on the horizon (and I shudder!) and wonder if that's not what it will take.

Oh God, have mercy on our Country.

My firm belief is in smaller government as well. Understanding that has actually helped in talking to people about politics. I don't necessarily know the details of every political position or issue but it can usually be boiled down to "does this limit or increase government?" If it increases it, I'm opposed to it. If it limits it, I'm all for it. Seems that I need to research the libertarian views more. As I said earlier, I believe that a third party is coming. What I'm not sure of is whether the change will come up within the currently defined parties (and change has taken place numerous times over the decades) or whether, like the Whiggs party, one or both will be voted out and a new party will come forward.

We are not to walk in fear. The early church was facing times of turmoil even greater than this. And those days are possibly ahead of us again. (Oh God, mercy we pray!) But no matter what happens, we have a secure fortress, a very present Help in times of trouble.

As Benjamin Franklin once said :
All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have observed frequent instances of superintending providence in our favor. To that kind providence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? Or do we imagine that we no longer need his assistance? I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth-that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the Ground without his Notice, is it probable that an Empire can rise without his Aid?" -Benjamin Franklin, To Colleagues at the Constitutional Convention

Speak and stand boldly where He has you. Mayn't it be for "such a time as this?"

Determined.

I realized something this morning...

I can do anything for a set period of time.

It is when there is no distinct end - no proverbial light at the end of the proverbial tunnel - that I find myself unmotivated to continue.

But there is an end in sight.

The White Stone

George MacDonald

Revelations 2:17

"The giving of the white stone with the new name is the communication of what God thinks about the man to the man. It is the divine judgment, the solemn holy doom of the righteous man, the "Come, thou blessed," spoken to the individual... The true name is one which expresses the character, the nature, the meaning of the person who bears it. It is the man's own symbol-his soul's picture, in a word-the sign which belongs to him and to no one else. Who can give a man this, his own name? God alone. For no one but God sees what the man is... It is only when the man has become his name that God gives him the stone with the name upon it, for then first can he understand what his name signifies. It is the blossom, the perfection, the completeness, that determines the name : and God foresees that from the first because He made it so : but the tree of the soul, before its blossom comes, cannot understand what blossom it is to bear and could not know what the word meant, which in representing its own unarrived completeness, named itself. Such a name cannot be given until the man is the name. God's name for a man must be the expression of His own idea of the man, that being whom He had in His thought when He began to make the child, and whom He kept in His thought through the long process of creation that went to realize the idea. To tell the name is to seal the success - to say, "In thee also I am well pleased."

I sobbed as I read this. He has whispered to me my name... and to be reminded that He knows that I will indeed live up to that name in the end is decadent encouragement that the race is worth running, the struggle worth the pain.

Read it again, and sit quiet. Do you know the name He calls you by?

"God's name for a man must be the expression of His own idea of the man, that being whom He had in His thought when He began to make the child, and whom He kept in His thought through the long process of creation that went to realize the idea. To tell the name is to seal the success - to say, "In thee also I am well pleased."

Just Thoughts.

I think I'm a lot more introverted than people realize. Than even I realize maybe.

When given the opportunity I will, like most, complain that there is nothing to do. But then when something comes up I usually would rather stay home.

I enjoy people. But being around people drains me. So I enjoy it, as long as I have time to recharge.

Just thoughts.

Some favorite Latin phrases.

ab imo pectore "from the bottom of my heart"

amor vincit omnia "love conquers all"

Ductus exemplo "Leadership by Example"

nunc scio quid sit amor "now I know what love is"

pax Dei "peace of God"

Pro deo et patria "For God and Country"

quando omni flunkus, mortati "When all else fails, play dead"

sapere aude "dare to be wise"

semper fidelis "always faithful"

semper paratus "always prepared"

si vis pacem para bellum "if you want peace, prepare for war"

sic vita est "thus is life"

sola gratia "by grace alone"

temet nosce "know thyself"

tuebor "I will protect"

verba volant, scripta manent "words fly away, writings remain"

veritas vos liberabit "the truth will set you free"

mundus vult decipi "the world wants to be deceived"

Magna res est vocis et silentii temperamentum "The great thing is to know when to speak and when to keep quiet"

Sermo datur cunctis; animi sapientia paucis "Speech is given to many; intelligence to few"

Terra firma "Solid ground"

Carpe Diem! "Seize the day"

Veni, vidi, vici. "I came, I saw, I conquered"

Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur. "It is a wise man who speaks little"

Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscript catapultas habebunt. "When catapults are outlawed, only outlaws will have catapults."

Errare humanum est "to err is human" (mistakes are human)

Stercus accidit "#### happens"

In Vino Veritas "In wine there is truth" (People say what they really mean when they're drunk)

Fronti nulla fides "No reliance can be placed on appearance"

Nemo nisi mors "No one but death shall part us"

Homines libenter quod volunt credunt "Men freely believe what they want to"

Trahimur omnes studio laudis "We are all attracted by the desire for praise"

Vademecum "go with me"

tabula rasa "a clean slate"

Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur "Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time"

Amat victoria curam "Victory favors those who take pains"

Ductus exemplo "Leadership by Example"

Dulcius ex asperis "through difficulty, sweetness"

Facta, non verba "actions, not words"

and last but not least...

Quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur "whatever has been said in Latin seems deep"

Why the Embarrassment?

I called a local bookstore today inquiring as to whether or not they carried a certain book.

They found that statement as vague as you did.

So I hemmed a little... and mentioned the author's name.

They asked me to narrow it down for them.

I hawed. Deep breath... ok, "It's called Get Married."

There. I'd said it. I'd admitted it.

"Getting married! Aw, are you getting married? Congratulations!"

Oh. My. Word. Could they have said anything worse?

"Um, er, uh no. It's Get Married. Not Getting. It's more of a directive statement rather than a description."

"Oh. Ok then. I, I'll check on that for you..."

"Thanks."

Ok, now why was this exchange so difficult for me? Why was I so uncomfortable asking a perfect stranger who works at a bookstore about the current stock of a particular volume? I'm sure it is not an unusual type of request for them...

Why is it so uncomfortable, as a female, to talk about my desire for marriage? Why does it feel like I am breaching some social code with any admittance to the preparation and anticipation of marriage?

Oh, it's easy to talk about it with my girlfriends. Often. And in detail. But why is it that outside of the safe zone of down comforters, mugs of steaming tea and whispered secrets is it so intimidating to discuss my joyful expectations?

Why does it make me think that I should feel weak? backwards? foolish?

I don't feel those things. But something somewhere tells me I should.

Being one who doesn't mind the occasional social blunder in the name of good humor, I changed my tone for the next call. (The first bookstore not having the desired read.)

"Hi, hope you can help me. I'm looking for a book called, Get Married." (There, I'd said it with no embarrassment. One point for me.)

"I'm not sure... let me check on that for you. Are you getting married?"

(No, but I'm going to re-evaluate my pronunciation abilities.)

"Not yet. That's why I'm looking for the book." (Ha. Take that unspoken secret hush-hush code!)

"What's it about?"

I then proceeded to have a fantastic ten minute conversation with this random bookstore clerk about marriage, preparing for marriage, anticipating marriage, friends who are feeling the same way, why isn't it discussed more?

What a connection! Shadows of depth flitting throughout the conversation. With a total stranger. Why? Because we shared something. As if each of us had this secret and just found out that we carried the same one.

I know I, at least, came away encouraged.

Speak. Boldly.

Days from Hades only last 24 hours...

Today was, by far, one of the worst days of this year. The enemy laid it on thick.

But guess what! I survived it.

By God's grace I survived the worst day in my recent history.

That's almost enough to make me smile - that and now Monday is officially over.

Sunday's Thoughts

"We are and remain such creeping Christians, because we look at ourselves and not at Christ; because we gaze at the marks of our own soiled feet, and the trail of our own defiled garments... Each, putting his foot in the footprint of the Master, and so defacing it, turns to examine how far his neighbor's footprint corresponds with that which he still calls the Master's, although it is but his own. Or, having committed a petty fault, I mean a fault such as only a petty creature could commit, we mourn over the defilement of ourselves, and the shame of it before our friends, children, or servants, instead of hastening to make the due confession and amends to our fellow, and then, forgetting our own paltry self with it's well-earned disgrace, lift our eyes to the glory which alone will quicken the true man in us, and kill the peddling creature we so wrongly call our self."
- George MacDonald

Read it two or three times to let it sink in. It sank in for me - and it hurt as it did so.

"Specialization is for insects."

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

-Robert A. Heinlein

Determination.

Hurricane or no hurricane - I'm going to the beach!

Typos can kill.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/09/04/duck.stamps.ap/index.html

The reason I will now edit everything I do all the more closely.

Silence.

I've figured something out : I crave silence.

I do. There is a certain percentage of each day that, I think, should be spent with silence. Even if you have to speak, speak without any background noise.

Do you realize how much constant noise permeates our daily lives?

Unfortunately, my family does not value silence as much as I do. When my mom gets up, she starts her music. Granted, it is wonderful worship music, but it is constant. Constant.

Stop the madness!

Every time I have a chance to be alone at the house or in my car I relish the opportunity to turn everything off! Shh.... hear it? No? Perfect.

This is actually a very helpful revelation of myself. I was growing frustrated and testy (not a good thing) and I found myself with nerves overwrought (also not a good thing). Something was bothering me, I just couldn't put my finger on it. Now I know!

It actually startled me, when everyone left the house this morning and I hopped up and enthusiastically shut off everything that was emitting sound, how the silence that descended was so freeing. I found myself breathing deeper... or maybe even breathing again. (I hadn't realized I was holding my breath.) My jaws hurt a little from now having unclenched teeth and... wouldn't you know it, the words that I've been trying so desperately to formulate and commit to paper are finally flowing freely from my brain to my tap-tapping fingers on the keyboard.

Silence.

Whew.

My Desperation.

What keeps me from God the most is my own perceived self sufficiency. I don't feel the desperate need for Him. Oh, there is a desperate need - but it is misappropriated and mislabeled. My desperation for Christ is divided into several desperations for things much less needed. These desires I fulfill, satiating the true desire for Him.

This, actually, fills me with some amount of relief - along with a heavy conviction. I was afraid. Afraid that I had no desire for Him.

I do. A desperate desire.

Now let me fulfill it only in Him.

My mother never did care for pie.

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie." --Tenneva Jordan

I nearly cried. That, my friends, is my mother in complete description.

Jenga!

I'm realizing that I am a lot like a Jenga game. Seemingly stable and put together, there are only so many pieces you can pull (or questions you can ask or topics you can touch on) before a piece is finally pulled and out comes me - loud, long-winded, verbal processing Italian me.

Funny thing is, the pulled piece that finally "does me in" is the same size as all the others. Nothing special about it. No great thing. Just the last thing. The last piece that can be pulled before "me" comes out.

*Sigh*

Consider yourself warned...

Conquering beautifully.

"...remind then that while we wait we may all work, so that these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women." -Letter from Father, Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

To do my duty faithfully, fight my bosom enemies bravely and to conquer myself beautifully... sounds like a good thing to aim for!

In but not of...

What does it look like? How does it work?

Was it all damn worth it?

Two in a day... I know.

But for good reason!

Following is an excerpt from an article whose link is posted below. Thought it might be of interest.

"For the truth is, once you have ceased being single, you suddenly discover that all that energy you spent propelling yourself toward an independent existence was only going to be useful if you were planning to spend the rest of your life as a nun or a philosopher on a mountaintop or maybe a Hollywood-style adventuress who winds up staring into her empty bourbon glass four years later wondering if it was all damn worth it. In preparation for a life spent with someone else, it wasn’t going to be helpful."


The Cost of Delaying Marriage : http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001135.cfm
Defending "The Cost of Delaying Marriage" : http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001145.cfm

Bleeding Love.

I often will get scraps of songs stuck in my head on repeat. If it is a song I don't know I've found that it helps to look up the lyrics and read through them. For some reason it stops the track from playing on repeat.

Today I had a few lines of a song stuck in my head. I recognized it as a popular refrain but I had never really heard the song. I googled the words that were replaying over and over and found that it was the song Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. Curious, I read the lyrics.

Wow.

Ok, as a love song from a girl to a guy it is decent but as I read the lyrics I found my heart repeating these words to the One who caused my dead heart to beat again and my unseeing eyes to look on Beauty.

I've been accused of reading into things too much. I smile quietly at such accusations. I don't think I read into things too much, I just read them with a different lens at times.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Closed off from love I didn't need the pain
Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain
Time starts to pass before you know it you're frozen

But something happened for the very first time with you
My heart melted into the ground - found something true
And everyone's looking 'round thinking I'm going crazy

But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Trying hard not to hear but they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that their goal is to keep me from falling

But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness I see your face
Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy
Maybe, maybe

But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it's draining all of me - oh they find it hard to believe
I'll be wearing these scars for everyone to see

I don't care what they say I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open and I Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

--Leona Lewis

Broken Heart and Clenched Fist.

I just got back from a high school football game. I love football games. I love the energy of the fans. The determination of the players. Pretending I know what is really going on and really just cheering when everyone else is cheering.

This game however wasn't so much fun. The team played well (from what I could tell in my limited knowledge). It was beautiful weather. I had my camera. All good things. But I found it hard to enjoy myself as my heart broke to pieces within me and my fists grew tight from clenching.

The culture.

The culture I was surrounded by was seeped, saturated, basted and marinated in sex. It was e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. In the clothes (or lack thereof), in the walks, in the cheerleaders (no surprise there - except for the fact that they were 12 and 14), in the body language, in the conversation, in the coarse joking. I was grappling with the same sensations I get whenever I go to a bar or club- unable to remain focused on the masks, the facades, I can't help but see past the painted smile to the dark despair and increasing confusion beneath. Intense sorrow coupled with Sicilian anger. Not at the kids - they're just kids! Even those who think they know what they're doing have very little clue as to what game they're playing. No, when I think about the kids, the girls especially, that is when my heart breaks. Physical pain.

It's when I think about the culture, the lies, the ones propagating this... this... *hard swallow* stuff that I find my throat constricting and my knuckles whitening. It is when I consider the enemy that is having free play with the blind and the deaf and the dumb that I get angry. Vengeful. Defensive.

I hope it is a righteous anger. Or at least more like it than not. I hope that I am able to keep the anger directed towards those who deserve it rather than take aim at the crippled captives the enemy hides behind.

Oh Lord, what would you have me do? My heart cries out to You that You would somehow use me, a broken vessel, to reach out to those who are in the dark, stumbling, falling. Why should Your Grace extend to me if I can't in turn extend it out to others?

The lump in my throat is unable to be formed into words. Know the cry of my heart, Father. Know the desire of my being. To know You. To make You known.

Help.

Solitude.

I haven't been alone for any amount of time since May. This is not good for a closet introvert like myself. Not good at all.

I'm numb. I have a stack of things to process that is taller than my stack of places I want to go and I don't foresee anytime in the near future for me to chip away at it.

I'm in definite need of "plunking." A week at a beach somewhere might do it.

Trail Blazing.

By Eileen Putman

WASHINGTON (AP) -- A shocking trend is gaining ground in teen dressing: modesty.

Teens model at the 2008 Pure Fashion Show.

Here's an example: Last summer, my 13-year-old daughter needed a dress to attend a friend's bat mitzvah.

What we found was a black concoction with a neckline so low that my condition for buying it was a fill-in-the-gap black undergarment. She wasn't happy about it, but complied.

This June, for her eighth-grade graduation, my daughter debated between a slinky blue dress with a plunging neckline -- more lounge singer than middle schooler -- and a flowery cotton print that was strapless but not low-cut.

After much consultation with her friends, she opted for the strapless and decided to top it with a sedate, white cardigan sweater.

What had happened to teen dressing in those intervening 10 months?

Layering. The economic downturn. Traction from an entrenched parents' backlash against highly sexualized looks for their daughters. Oh, and fashion's do-or-die need to throw something new at the gigantic but fickle teen/tween market as quickly as you can say "MySpace" or "Facebook."

I like the result: too-revealing camisoles and tank tops now paired with a covering hoodie or graphic T-shirt. Dresses topped by '50s-ish cardigans or shrugs. Vintage '70s-ish pieces picked up cheaply at thrift shops.

Also, layered items are interchangeable and can be put together in different ways, so I think (hope) we're saving money.

Money is the name of the game for retailers, too, especially in the current economic climate. Apparel sales for the 13-to-17-year-old set were nearly $30 billion for the 12 months ending May 2008, according to market researcher NPD Group's consumer tracking service. Add "tweens" and near-tweens -- 7-to-12-year olds -- and college-age kids -- 18-to-24 -- and that figure soars to nearly $70 billion.

Overall, sales are increasing only slightly. Department stores are struggling to compete with discounters like Wal-Mart and specialty merchants like Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, PacSun, Aeropostale and American Eagle Outfitters -- which typically feature darker lighting and throbbing music to welcome teens.

And with the economy in a downturn, many teens had trouble getting summer jobs and have less to spend.

"We're in a very challenging time period," said Allison Levy, merchandise manager for menswear and childrenswear at the Doneger Group, which advises major stores on what fashions to buy. "We have to work harder to get them in the door and satisfy them. ... It's about capturing their attention."

That's done not just with colorful clothes in stores in malls where teens congregate, but also on the Internet, where they gravitate for social networking -- and fashion chitchat -- at sites like MySpace and Facebook. Teens also pre-shop online. My daughter, for instance, will check out Delias.com before she drags me to the store, her favorite place to buy skinny jeans.

The Internet also means that new fashion trends -- whether driven by music or by TV shows like "Gossip Girl" and "Hannah Montana" -- spread with almost viral speed and intensity. That feeds into tweens and younger teens' desire for their favorite celebrities' clothing brands, says Michael Stone, CEO of The Beanstalk Group, an authority on celebrity licensing who developed the Olsen twins' fashion brand when they were young TV stars.

"It's all media-driven," Stone said. "It's about girls seeing celebrities on TV shows, movie and concert tours and now they get to communicate about clothing on social networking sites. More communicating tools are available ... to spread the word about fashion a celebrity is wearing. That drives tween fashion."

In the emphasis on layering, many parents see a welcome trend that is long overdue.

"A lot of the very fashionable looks right now are very modest," said Brenda Sharman, national director at Pure Fashion, a Catholic-based organization that has put on modesty teen fashion shows in nearly two dozen U.S. cities. "It's almost a flashback to looking very demure and proper."

The group has long deplored the low necklines and sexy looks that have marked teen fashion, and they aren't alone. Last year, an American Psychological Association task force reported that cognitive performance and health can suffer when teens and young women make themselves into sex objects by wearing sexy clothing or styling themselves after sexy celebrities. Eating disorders, depression and low self-confidence can result.

Happily, there's evidence that the covered-up styles for teens might continue into next season and beyond.

At the spring Paris fashion shows, Stephanie Meyerson -- trend director for youth culture at Stylesight, a retail forecasting firm -- saw a definite "moving away from overtly sexual" in teen fashion, especially through layering and comfortable baggy looks.

"Girls are dressing for themselves, as opposed to dressing for guys," she said. "The guys might not like it but the girls are not wearing really tight shirts. They're covered up."

Covered up can mean put-together (think "Gossip Girl") or disheveled (a bit of Mary-Kate-and-Ashley grunge meets Amy Winehouse). And even that look can have sexual connotations.

"It's the one-night-stand look," Meyerson said. As in the disheveled morning after, clothes with a slept-in feel.

OK, so parents won't rejoice over that notion. But I'm rejoicing over anything that keeps my girl from looking like a lounge singer.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know how long this "trend" will last - but I'm excited about the possibilities. There are girls out there that are tired of the current cultural pathways. My heart is full in wanting to encourage them to "..not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." (Ralph Waldo Emerson.)

Ah Blogging, I've missed you...

...and for the record, I've missed journaling too.

I don't know how people live without journaling or blogging. How do they remember everything they've experienced, thought, learned and grown from? I'd have lost half of me by now if it wasn't recorded for me to go back over. I have lost parts of me, my past that has helped form me, by my poor consistency in journaling but I have a large part summarized and preserved. (Not always a glamorous thing to be sure.)

At the moment I want to record the fact that I am content. And excited. And hopeful. And tired. And a little achy. And tired. And happy to have this time with family. And sad about the loss of Aunt Deb. And content. And excited.

Yes, and now that it is recorded I can relax and stop thinking about it. It's actually kind of scary how much of a verbal processor I am. I should have a minion who can follow me around and record everything I say. No wait. That's a bad idea. I prefer to have the ability to edit what I save.

At this point I am in fact rambling. But it feels good to be rambling again with the click-clack-click of the keyboard keys beneath my fingertips and the bright blueish light of the computer screen reflecting back on my face. It is a similar feeling to a clean sheet of paper and a nice pen when I'm journaling.

Sigh.

I am content. And excited. Ah - I won't start that up again.

God is gracious. He is surrounding this family with His grace and peace during a truly gut-wrenching time. I'm glad that I'm here with my grandma, uncle, cousins and their kids. Ah my cousin's kids are fantastic! All boys, ages 5, 6, 8 and 9. They think I'm cool! I'm loving it.

God is good - so life is as well.

Hobbies.

Some people collect misery. I'm realizing this and it astounds me. Theirs, others, true, imagined - there are a variety of miseries to collect. And people who gather misery love to display their collections. In fact, its hard to get them stopped once they get started. So-and-so's daughter... a neighbor's father-in-law's son... this country... that people group... their childhood... on and on and on.

And if you get two or more misery collectors together they can sit for hours and show off their own collections while trading miseries with each other.

"Did you hear about so-and-so? *dramatic sigh*"
"No! Tell me!"
"Well.... yada, yada, yada."
"Really! Oh my word. That sounds like so-and-so from such-and-such-place. Something similar happened to them."
"Really? Tell me!"
"Well..."

And on and on it goes until they each walk away with increased collections as they can now tell each other's woeful tales of misery simply by adding, "Well, so-and-so told me that so-and-so..."

Everyone needs a hobby I guess.

The Day After

Have you ever been in a home the day after the funeral of the one that caused the structure of wood, brick and drywall to be called a home in the first place?

The day after the body, the empty shell, has been buried beneath six feet of cool, damp earth.

The day after the sympathizers, empathizers, comforters, mourners and gawkers have dried their eyes, ate their food and gone home.

The day after the house has been filled with beautiful, overbearingly fragrant arrangements that cause you to tear up from renewed grief at the sight of them, although the nose blowing has more to do with the abundance of pollen.

The day after the light of a family's eyes, the joy of their hearts and the strength they depend on has been officially and finally "laid to rest."

I don't mean to sound cynical or bitter - I promise I am not. But I'm realizing... as I experience for the first time this "day after" that I have never really before understood what this separation called "death" does to people the day after.

It is like someone ripped off your right arm. Yes, you get medical attention and yes it will heal. But to wake up the next morning and realize that life has "returned to normal" for everyone else and for you... it is only a vague semblance of "normal." Normal now has to be redefined because everything you knew and loved and took joy or comfort in was tied to, influenced by the heart, life, love and touch of one that is now separated from you. Life can go on without an arm - people survive without certain appendages. And life "will go on" without the vibrant heart that once lit it up. Without the laughter that lifted sorrow. Without the touch that soothed hurt. Without the smile that smirked at depression. Without the quiet wisdom that led, taught, admonished and encouraged.

Life will go on... but on this "day after" I have to wonder how.

Aunt Debbie, your light penetrated every sphere you entered; your life, every heart it came in contact with. I miss you.

Fumbling, Falling, Fallen Self

There is something amiss. There must be some reason that I continue to struggle with the same things on a cyclical basis.

Walking strong... growing tired... tempted... sometimes pull back... still tired... tempted... fall... forgiven... walking strong... growing tired...

Ack. It got old the first time around and I've been through this several times. I have so many different lines of thought in my head, all speaking at the same time - it's enough to drive me mad.

And I am mad. I'm mad at myself, I'm mad at society, I'm, well, to be honest I'm mad at God too. I'm mad that it is so hard... mad that I find the need to wage war against my self... and then lose the battle time and again.

"For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.

So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin." -Paul, Romans 7:15-25

So what then? Where does this leave me? In the middle of a frustrating, infuriating, exasperating, exhausting tug-of-war with myself.

And I find God strangely silent... or is it that I've stopped listening?

Wretched one that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

Calvin & Hobbes Quotes

God put me on this Earth to accomplish certain things. Right now, I am so far behind, I will never die.

-Calvin, Calvin & Hobbes

I try to make everyones life a little more surreal.

-Calvin, Calvin & Hobbes

It's not denial... I'm just very selective about the reality I accept.

-Calvin, Calvin & Hobbes

Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.

-Calvin, Calvin & Hobbes

The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little pratice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!

-Calvin, Calvin & Hobbes

The only skills I have the patience to learn are those that have no real application in life.

-Calvin's Father, Calvin & Hobbes

.Misconceptions.

Too often I think people confuse two very different things... and to their detriment. There is a substantial difference between being friendly and flirting. Those who misconstrue or play ignorant to the difference set themselves up to either opening themselves up to something they don't want or closing themselves off to something that is good. (For the sake of this blog, and to avoid too many rabbit trails, I will restrict my remarks to the latter.)

The basic definitions of the words themselves provide a framework for the difference.

Friend
1 a: one attached to another by affection or esteem 2: one that is not hostile 3: one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)4: a favored companion

Flirt

1: to move erratically [note this does not say "erotically"] 2 a: to behave amorously without serious intent b: to show superficial or casual interest or liking ; also : experiment 3: to come close to reaching or experiencing something —used with with

Unfortunately for many, particularly in Christian circles, they have confused the terms. Not intentionally, I understand, but the result is still sadly the same.

In order to "flee" from behaving amorously without serious intent many become hostile.

Yes, I said hostile. And just so we're all on the same page, let me include the definition for hostile.

Hostile
1 a: of or relating to an enemy b: marked by malevolence hostile act> c: openly opposed or resisting d (1): not hospitable (2): having an intimidating, antagonistic, or offensive nature

The problem with adding definitions is that I feel the need to continue adding definitions for words that are used in the definitions. Such as hospitable, intimidating, and so on.

My point is, although I don't take offense, I do grieve somewhat when attempts at friendliness are construed as flirting.

**Author's Note: I am not denying that I, at times, act in a flirtatious manner. I do. I'm simply saying that it is not the same as being friendly. Believe me, when I'm flirting, I (and witnesses) know.**

Those who are afraid of appearing flirtatious often have the sad result of appearing unfriendly... even hostile. Why do we, particularly females in Christian circles, constrict, restrict and every other kind of "strict" ourselves into keeping quiet, pulled back, guarded, cold?

For heaven's sake, shake off the stupor, ignorance and woeful ignorance that rules too many of us. Fight it.

Life is meant to be lived. Smile. Breathe. Interact. Relate. Reach out. Give.

"Practice hospitality." Romans 12:13

Ok... one last definition.

Hospitable
1 a: given to generous and cordial reception of guests b: promising or suggesting generous and cordial welcome c: offering a pleasant or sustaining environment


And those are some of my thoughts on the matter.

.05.05.05.

Today is one of my favorite days of the year! It's right up there with Christmas and my birthday. Today is my Day of Grace. My day of liberation. My independence day.

I'm struggling to compose this post because I feel the "important-ness" of the day and want to write something of equal weight.

My fear though is that this desire to write something only after I have been able to formulate the words to express the emotions will cause the day to slip past and I'll have made no mention of it at all.

Consider this my making mention of it and I will probably find myself back on later trying to more fully define all that is in my head.

.Foolishness.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/05/02/coed.dorm.rooms.ap/index.html?iref=mpstoryview

Is anybody really believing this? Are people really foolish enough to think that coed dorm rooms will never be nothing more than a healthy, platonic environment?

What do you say in that card game where you think someone just lied about the cards they put down?

.Seasons.

Whilst winter was here it seemed
Spring would never come - and
now that Spring has bloomed
it is difficult to remember
the depths of Winter.

Such is life.

.Emotions.

So yesterday was a happy night... which made me sad. I laughed... which made me cry. I enjoy being here... so I grieve leaving. And yet, I'm excited about things to come... which makes me feel guilty for wanting to leave. But I don't want to leave... but I do. I hate feeling guilty... it makes me angry. But why am I angry? Now I'm angry at myself because I'm angry at seemingly nothing... which makes me cry. But my close friends understand and they listen and they comfort and they console... which makes me happy... which makes me sad.

Ah, I am most definitely female.

.Freedom.

There is a freedom from "what ifs" when you put your trust in a Sovereign God.

.Life, Love and the Pursuit of Liberty.

I crave freedom.

Whatever its form: whether it be an open road, an afternoon without plans, a blank canvas, a friend I trust completely, or that incomparable feeling of truly being who I am... I long for it.

My soul yearns for freedom. It aches for it. Some days I have the feeling of being locked in a small, windowless room and other days it can be as bad as the feeling of being underwater and not able to reach the surface. Suffocation unnerves me. The idea of being trapped or confined causes my shoulders to tense and my pulse to quicken.


There are days however when the lid is lifted off the box, when I take in deep gulps of air, when I spread my arms and feel nothing wrenching them back. Those are the days I'm alive.

It used to be that the days I felt trapped outnumbered the days I felt free... for every one day, hour, or moment of freedom there would be a seemingly eternal stretch of time where I was reaching, clawing, desperate to be released from whatever was holding me captive.

Life is different now. There are now long, timeless stretches of liberty, interrupted by moments of constriction.

I've searched for this freedom all my life... even as a child I remember feeling the ache, the need, for a life without boundaries. A child though, can explore their world in search for that freedom and still be kept safe within the care and protective fence of their parents and family. It is quite a different story when that child, now grown, opens the gate and moves out beyond the fence and still has the ache pressing in on her soul.

My insatiable drive to do more, go more, see more, know more... to experience firsts, to continually add to the list of experiences, to push at supposed boundaries until they either gave way or proved solid (most always giving way)... this drive, this desperation... this was my undoing.

As a Christian suffering from lack of grace (and those who have experienced it know the condition I was in), I tried to dutifully separate myself from this part of me. I tried to silence it, beating it out of my inner being with as much force as one can muster when the object of such brutal attacks is one's self. I tried to be what I thought I was supposed to be, do what I thought I was supposed to do. Go where I should go. Say what I should say. Suffer as I should suffer.

Ignore the ache, it will go away.
Better yourself, you're worth nothing this way.
Silence the cries, the sobs will fade.
Better yourself, you're worth nothing this way.
This is not you, because it is wrong to ache.
Better yourself, you're worth nothing this way.


Oh the smooth, silky, poisonous lies we swallow.

I beat myself until I could no longer stand the pain. I got up off my knees, turned around... and ran.

I ran until I could run no longer. And when I stopped running, hands on my knees, gasping for breath, my ravaged being heard a gentle whisper.

Dear heart.... I desire you to be free from the bondage to corruption and to obtain freedom . I know that all of creation, and even your heart, has been groaning under the weight of it (Romans 8:20-22). Where My Spirit is there is freedom (II Cor. 3:12). It is for freedom that I set you free! Don't let yourself become a slave again (Galatians 5:1). You were called to freedom, use it in the right way (Galatians 5:13). Live as one who is free (I Peter 2:16). That is the reason I came, to proclaim liberty and to set free those who are oppressed (Luke 4:18). Live as one under the perfect law - that is the Law of Liberty (James 1:25). So Stephanie, live, breathe, speak and act as one who lives under this law (James 2:12).

Called. I was called to freedom.

People, especially those fluent in Christianese, often ask and wonder about a person's calling.

I have mine.

Called to freedom. And by the very One who I turned and ran from in search of it. For almost 23 years now I have searched for freedom. For almost 23 years now I have heard of Jesus Christ. And yet it has only been in the past 2 years that I began to understand the correlation between the two.

I am now free, and yet I live in a culture where this freedom is frowned upon and slavery is fought for and struggled to attain at any cost. There is a law that our world operates under, the law of corruption, oppression, sin and death. And yet, just as there is the Law of Gravity but the Law of Lift supersedes it, the Law of Liberty, the perfect law, supersedes the Law of Death.

That desire for freedom, the ache I tried so desperately to scourge from the depths of my being, that longing is GOOD. It is right.

What freedom there is in realizing that.

.Another Poem.

The Winds of Fate

One ship drives East,

and another drives West,
With the self-same winds that blow;
Tis the set of the sails, and not the gales,
Which tells us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life;
Tis the set of the soul that decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox

.Batter My Heart.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

--John Donne

One of my favorite sonnets. It became even more dear, and convicting, when I looked up the definitions of the words I only knew the vague meanings of.

-----------------------------------------------------------
"I, like an usurp'd town, to another due"
u·surp (y-sûrp, -zûrp)

v. u·surped, u·surp·ing, u·surps

v.tr.

1. To seize and hold (the power or rights of another, for example) by force and without legal authority. See Synonyms at appropriate.

2. To take over or occupy without right: usurp a neighbor's land.

v.intr.

To seize another's place, authority, or possession wrongfully.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend"
vice·roy (vsroi)n.

1. A man who is the governor of a country, province, or colony, ruling as the representative of a sovereign.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain"
fain (fn)

adv.

1. Happily; gladly: "I would fain improve every opportunity to wonder and worship, as a sunflower welcomes the light" Henry David Thoreau.

2. Archaic Preferably; rather.

adj. Archaic

1. Ready; willing.

2. Pleased; happy.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Except you enthrall me, never shall be free"
en·thrall (n-thrôl)

tr.v. en·thralled, en·thrall·ing, en·thralls

1. To hold spellbound; captivate: The magic show enthralled the audience.

2. To enslave.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"Nor ever chaste,"
chaste (chst)

adj. chast·er, chast·est

1. Morally pure in thought or conduct; decent and modest.

2.

a. Not having experienced sexual intercourse; virginal.

b. Abstaining from unlawful sexual intercourse.

c. Abstaining from all sexual intercourse; celibate.

3. Pure or simple in design or style; austere.
-----------------------------------------------------------
"except you ravish me."
rav·ish (rvsh)

tr.v. rav·ished, rav·ish·ing, rav·ish·es

1. To seize and carry away by force.

2. To overwhelm with emotion; enrapture.
-----------------------------------------------------------

It becomes a lot more risqué (ris·qué (rs-k) adj. Suggestive of or bordering on indelicacy or impropriety.) when you realize the depth and meaning of some of the words Donne uses.

And yet, it almost became more of a favorite of mine for he having used them.

.Exhaustion.

I must admit, I am absolutely, without question, beyond a shadow of a doubt, exhausted. Just plain ol' worn out!

My gypsy blood had its fill these last few weeks and now I'm in dire need of some 'plunking'. ('Plunking' for those of you who have yet heard the definition for my new term is the art of doing absolutely nothing... with style.)

So I have scheduled this evening for plunking. I'm going to cook... because it soothes my nerves to do so. I'm going to put on my plunking clothes and I'm going to plunk myself down on the couch and do nothing. Ah... the sweet anticipation of an evening of plunking.

My plate has been full... and not with just making up new words. I'm rather on edge and don't know what to attribute it to, other than the exhaustion. (My apologies to those dear friends who are dealing with me in my pre-plunking state. It should improve over the weekend.)

Not only are my nerves raw, but my mind is swimming with all the thoughts in it. None of those thoughts are tagged, color coded or in any other fashion organized and this adds to the mayhem.

A glimpse into my mind (for those brave/foolish enough to peer in):
-Too many things to do
-Not enough time (or desire) to do them
-Papers, papers, papers everywhere!
-I think I'm allergic to fluorescent lighting (recognize that I understand I'm not, I just find that my tolerance for it has plummeted.)
-How can I think outside the box when I work in one!
-HOW IS IT THE END OF APRIL??
-Wait, it's not yet the end of April...
-I FEEL LIKE IT'S THE END OF APRIL!!
-Family
-Hopes
-I like her shoes
-Fears
-Plans for the future
-If I succeed in driving Route 66 with Molly out to CA, how am I going to get back?
-Friends are in relationships that make them happy, and bless me to see them happy.
-What am I going to do for my birthday?
-Any chance we can go camping at the Dunes before I leave?
-Hm, he's good looking
-How am I going to get everything done before I leave?
-Why am I leaving?
-I want to go home
-I'll miss here

Ok! Ok! I can't even take much more of that!! Ai ai ai. I hope, for your sake, you just scrolled past that and didn't take the time to read through it. Each of those bullet points are just the headline for the thesis-long thoughts that are stuck on repeat in my brain.

I must admit to being a little overwhelmed. I am hoping that an evening of plunking will fix this... however I am trying not to get too hopeful about it because I've tried to plunk numerous times before and something always comes up.

That's the thing to: usually they are excellent somethings. It's just that I'm tired... and I need to plunk...

...and I think I need a hug, a glass of water and a fluffy pillow. Yeah. That should help.

.Reminders.

Being home for the weekend is never restful - it is usually jammed full of productivity. Friday was just such a day. Mom and I pulled out of the driveway with a long list of stops to make. Surprising to some, I am not a shopper.

On our second stop (the bank) God made me smile. I was talking with our wonderful branch associate Shoba (everyone should have a Shoba, by the way) about trying to get some of my accounts online. She asked me for a temporary password. Something I could remember.

Mm, grace. (It was the first thing that came to mind.)

Shoba looked up at me. "And what reminds you of grace?"

I smiled.

Thanks God.

.Where I'm At.

So in the course of driving 2550+ miles over the last several days, Lindsey and I came across several truths. Some are truths we want to hold onto... others that we want to strive for.

In no particular order (and certainly an incomplete list):

1. Wherever you are, be there.

2. Appreciate anatomy.

3. God desires to bless us. (We both feel very spoiled at the moment.)

4. God is Sovereign.

5. Expensive hotels charge for internet but have magic beds.

6. Cheap hotels have free internet and less enchanting sleeping arrangements.

7. Going 95-100 mph is a very freeing experience.

8. 60 bunnies popping up like daisies next to the road within a relatively short distance constitutes as weird.

9. The fact that we didn't hit a single one should be considered miraculous.

10. It makes for a better sense of adventure driving west than it does driving east. You also gain hours rather than lose them.

11. Always take time to stop at odd places... especially if it's the Oz Museum in the middle of nowhere-Kansas.

12. Getting trucks to honk is fun. Having them honk without being asked is interesting.

13. Although a mini-van is a handicap, it is not debilitating.

14. Even a Days Inn looks warm and welcoming at 2am.

15. That same Days Inn does not look the same at 8am.

16. Pack a cooler full of food at the start of the trip and it will last you most of the way.

17. Always travel with someone who you are comfortable both talking to and being silent with.

18. Take pictures.

19. Accept the adventures that come along.

20. Know when it's time to go home.

What can I say? I am a road trip loving girl and God completely blessed this past week. We traveled a total of 2550 miles and drove through Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri and then Illinois and Indiana again. We saw things we hadn't seen before; did things we hadn't done before; met people we didn't know before and experienced God in a way we hadn't imagined before.

All in all, a good trip.

.Productivity.

It's funny how something as simple as rearranging blog formatting can give me a new appreciation for life.

What some may deem a waste of time and relatively pointless was the very thing that saved me from complete insanity this afternoon. Amongst a cubicle filled with half-finished projects, all waiting on some external factor before completion is possible, it was soothing to start a project, wrestle out the details and then, at last, have a completed product to show for my work.

I almost feel like I could call it a day... except for the pesky piles of unfinished tasks still domineering my small little plot, my borrowed bit of office property.

I wish.

I wish I had the words... or the thoughts... or the time to think the thoughts that would lead to the words...

...I wish I had time for a nap.

Metanoia

The following excerpts from Father Paul's Homilies explores the many subtleties of this Greek word. Metanoia, a Greek word meaning a change of mind. A radical revision and transformation of our whole mental process. That change of mind is something whereby God takes center place in our consciousness, in our awareness, and in our minds. Metanoia means a new mind. About what? About who we are. ...If tonight you're hearing with your heart, it's time for metanoia. It's time for a new mind about yourself and about life. Metanoia is the idea of the need for conversion. And this is then recognizing that we don't know, truthfully don't know, God and truthfully don't feel ourselves as God intends us to. We really need metanoia, which is allowing the grace of God to enter into our lives and teach us how to see ourselves and how to come to the true self. When the authors wrote in Greek about what Jesus really said, they all agree that he preached metanoia. ...one idea is conversion or transformation. Change of heart and, literally, change of mind. "The kingdom of God is at hand," he says, meaning it's at arm's length. But in order for you to grasp it, you have to be able to undergo something like this: a conversion and transformation and change of heart and mind Metanoia is a new-minded way of looking at life. And, in the broader sense, contrition involves a change of mind. And that is really what is meant by the Greek word, "metanoia," whereby we start thinking anew about everything. So to bring our thoughts into a godly, godlike form, that's part of contrition; that's part of metanoia. So I need to really find out what God really is and who God is and what God wants for me. He preached the need for conversion. Now conversion in Greek is "metanioa." And what is "metanoia"? Unfortunately, in English there's not one word that translates it very well. We could say repentance, but that doesn't catch the meaning of "metanoia." "Metanoia" literally means "beyond the mind." So it's an idea of stretching or pushing beyond the boundaries with which we normally think and feel. Now when we push beyond the boundaries what we are doing is we are allowing God really to take an active role in our formation. Repentance, metanoia in Greek, really refers to a complete change in perspective, a change in goal, a change in life itself, really! It means new mindedness, new change of mind and change of heart in the Hebrew sense of heart---how you think. And that means letting go of rigidities because God has to teach us all new about God. And what we have to learn basically is how trustworthy God is, and how in every single situation, no matter what it is, no matter how painful, God is to be trusted. God is always present. So God is always inviting us into more life, and so to be questioning our own ways and our own habits is a good thing--and letting go of rigidity. Thus his entire mission was begun by announcing the need for metanoia, sometimes translated "repentance." But repentance does not mean simply regretting some action or some word. Repentance means completely turning around one's life and one's being. A change, a profound change, of mind and even character. In the Bible, in the New Testament, this change is called "metanoia," often translated repentance. But it's not a backward-looking glance of regret; it's a forward-looking vision of hope. Metanoia is a new openness to what is truly objective, beyond ourselves, our view of life, how we put the data together. From: http://www.stjosephdg.org/parish/about/metanoia.html

.Shrouded.

I'm feeling the cocoon closing in around me...

...change is on the way.

I Surrender the Facade.

It's no wonder I haven't been able to blog faithfully or why I have tended to keep things shallow when I do take the time to write things out. There are issues I'm faced with that I haven't wanted to deal with. Sometimes I feel like I'd rather give in to the pull of the waves than to continue the fight to stay afloat. It just seems like it'd be easier, you know? Like there would be relief in it.

It's a lie.

What is temptation? It is a veiled promise of something desired without truly fulfilling that desire in the end. It finds us at our weakest point and whispers seductively of a solution, however short term it may be, to the problem. It is the poison mixed with sugar, designed to be easily swallowed. It is the fish hook, the arrow point, the instrument of torture that goes in smooth only to rip a savage wound as it finishes its course by being torn from its victim.

Desire is to be expected. It, in itself, is not sin. When it is not dealt with though properly and immediately it gives birth to sin.

"Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. Let no one say when he is tempted, "I am being tempted by God," for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death." James 1:12-15 ESV

I see it more clearly as weeds in a garden plot. The seed is planted. The shoot emerges. When full grown the weeds are death to the surrounding plants. Seeds often slip in without our noticing. (Lord, give me discernment.) When the shoots appear and the evidence of the seeds is seen it is sometimes not given our attention. What harm can a little green shoot do? (Lord, give me wisdom.) But when full grown, with roots that have grown stronger and more widespread over time, the removal of the weed is difficult, painful, and disruptive to the surrounding soil. (Lord, give me strength.)

"For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

I hate that it is the very thing that Christ has freed me from that I continue to find myself giving in to. I was bought with a price and yet I often treat my freedom as a curse and submit myself again to the oppression I know all too well.

Temptation offers to me (freedom) that which I already have been given! And time and again, I fall for what is extended to me.

I was humbled by a song I heard this morning by Jars of Clay.

I built another temple to a stranger
I gave away my heart to the rushing wind
I set my course to run right into danger
I sought the company of fools instead of friends

Chorus:
You know I've been unfaithful
with lovers in lines
while you're turning over tables
with the rage of a jealous kind
I chose the gallows to the aisle
thought that love would never find
hanging ropes will never keep you
and your love of a jealous kind
love of a jealous kind

Tryin' to jump away from rock that keeps on spreading
for solace in the shift of the sinking sand
I'd rather feel the pain all too familiar
than be broken by a lover i don't understand
'cause i don't understand

One hundred other lovers, more, one hundred other altars
If I should slow my pace and finally subject me to grace
and love that shames the wise
betrays the hearts deceit and lies
and breaks the back of foolish pride

love of a jealous kind
love of a jealous kind
love of a jealous kind



I've been a fool. Again. Will this tumultuous cycle never end? I long for heaven and the day that I don't have to wake up knowing that it will be a fight to pursue holiness. I desire it. I do. But I allow myself to grow weary in well doing.

Thank you for those who have encouraged me to continue the fight and for shielding me often times when I was too exhausted to put up a defense much less an offense. I am spiritually out of shape - and no wonder, considering my diet and exercise regimen of the last several months. I covet your prayers as I allow God to help me pick myself up out of the dust once again, brush off my butt and keep on with this journey. It is worth it. I know.

Where's my sword? It's time to get back in this battle.

I'm a dingbat.

As I was getting ready for work this morning my ipod was playing through some songs I hadn't heard in a while. When the old, churchy favorite "Everthing that Has Breath" came on I cracked up laughing at how appropriate it was at the moment for me.

Let me explain.

One of my brothers, who for his ego's sake will remain nameless, was as much of a character when he was younger as he is now. And I remember a day, quite vividly, as we were driving home from church, that he displayed this character in the form of an honest and earnest question.

"Stephanie, what is a dingbat?"

What? For the life of me I couldn't figure out where this question had come from. Now being that it was my brother, and this type of situation was not unusual, I didn't dwell on the source of the inquiry to heavily.

But how to answer it. Well, to my then eleven-year-old mind, a dingbat was quite simply a social misfit. (Not that I used terminology like "social misfit" at that age. Otherwise I would have known how to categorize myself. Hehe. Synonyms like dork, pest, idiot, etc did come to mind.)

After explaining this to him, as best I could, he nodded thoughtfully, obviously processing this new information in his young brain.

"Well," he finally said with a shrug, "I guess we should praise the Lord that they have breath."

It took me a minute, but when I finally understood my brother's pondering I couldn't stop laughing and agreeing with him. When we sang "Everything that has Breath" in church that morning my brother's lyrics went more like this:

"Every dingbat, every dingbat, every dingbat has breath. Praise the Lord!"

Although tempted to let him continue on with this train of thought I gently explained to him the true words. He and I both agreed that his made for a better song.

And in a way, he's right. This morning, in hearing that song again, I found myself praising God that, although I am often a dingbat, He is gracious to me in giving me life and allowing me to have it abundantly.

I have breath. Praise the Lord!

Frustration.

Do you remember the old comic strip way of designating anger? That furious, scribbled wad of ink. It looks like a hair ball... or a ball of yarn after ten cats are through with it. I always thought it was a little ridiculous. I never fully understood it.

Until now.

I was going to sit and jot down the thoughts that are clanging around in my head - figure out some way to pin them down, organize them and categorize them and then dispose of them.

No dice.

I held my pen poised over the notepad, breathed deeply, lowered the tip of the pen until it made contact with the paper and then... nothing. It just sat there as the ink began to absorb and create a blot on the fresh clean sheet of paper. The next thing I know I have scribbled a gnarled knotted mess onto the page and have put the pen down. Looking at my attempts to tame the tumbling inner turmoils I realized I had indeed accomplished something.

I finally understand the knotted gnarl's use in expression.

Good to know I can check one thing off the list.

.Contradictions.

Who am I?

Am I what I say?
What I do?
What I think?
Or what I know to be true inside myself?

I know who I am - but is it who I present to the world?

.Do you know who I am?.

Pasta. Meatballs. Garlic. Wine. Loud. Hands. The Godfather.

I am very proud of my Italian heritage. Anyone who knows me for any length of time probably could attest to it. I enjoy the culture, the history (for the most part), the traditions, the food... I love it all.

I found myself thinking about this again today, not for the first time and certainly not for the last.
How many people know that I'm Italian? How many people know that I'm a Christian?

Which one is of greater importance to me? Which one do I take more pride in? Which one do I identify myself by?

Most people who I come in contact with will know, before too much time has passed, of my Italian heritage.

How many will know of my Christian heritage?

Thoughts I'm thinking.

.Radio.

Last night I slipped back into the office after everyone else had gone and played the piano a little while. Working where I do it is awkward to play when others are around. I plop down and tap out a little melody. They sit down and gracefully play through a Beethoven movement.
As I sat playing, poorly but contentedly, I sang along to the song.

"El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.

Through your love and through the ram,
You saved the son of abraham;
Through the power of your hand,
Turned the sea into dry land.
To the outcast on her knees,
You were the God who really sees,
And by your might,
You set your children free.

El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai."

Next I played and sang along to "All in All"

"You are my strength when I am weak
You are the treasure that I seek
You are my All in All.

Seeking You as a precious jewel
Lord to give up I'd be a fool
You are my All in All.

Jesus, Lamb of God
Worthy is Your Name
Jesus, Lamb of God
Worthy is Your Name."

As I left, I continued singing the two songs to myself, back and forth, off and on. Walking to my car, I laughed to myself at the soundtrack I usually have playing in my head. Turning the car on the radio came on to the Christian station. A new song was starting to play and I thought to myself how funny it would be if "El Shaddai" would be the song they would play. Wouldn't that be odd how God shows Himself so intricately involved, so tangibly present, in my day-to-day doings. I chuckled at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought that my life, for some reason, would be so intricately planned. My thoughts were so loud as to the impossibility of this that I almost missed the first words being sung of "All in All."

Through the laughter and tears that now came pouring from me I sang along, rejoicing in the small example of God showing me, once again, how intricately involved He really is.