Category Archives: Living The Dream

Posted on

Velocity, Attitude, Inclination

Happychristmassmnh
Where did the month go? I can’t believe it’s seven days (less than that, really) till Christmas. It seems time goes by faster and faster the older I get.

Sorry for the silence here.  I know some of you check almost daily and I really appreciate your faithfulness. I have so much to say, but I’ve been so busy with school and shopping and Christmas stuff that I haven’t had any time to write. But I thought I’d take a quick moment to just give an update.

First off, I’m still singing the Mind Algebraic —well, really it’s the Mind Mathematics/Quantitative Literacy. I’ve worked on basic mathematics concepts, algebra, trigonometry, critical thinking… right now I’m working on geometry, and in the next week or so I’ll start statistics. My frustration with it waxes and wanes with the level of complexity and difficulty — which is usually toward the end of the chapters. I am just not a naturally left-brained person. Though I am learning to adjust and think that way, ever so sllooooowly. The most exciting part has been realizing I really can do it. Trig is my favorite so far. I really like all the triangle puzzle stuff. I don’t know why you would want to know or care about all that, but it can be fun stuff to chew on…… ohmigosh, I didn’t just say that, did I?? I didn’t just say I’m actually enjoying a part of math! What is happening to me. It must be the Christmas season infecting me.

Speaking of, I stated in an earlier post that this is the first time in many years that I’veChristmasbaubles
actually been excited to celebrate Christmas and I realized recently I didn’t fully explain. I won’t go into great detail here, most of you know the hell I went through a few years back anyway. The holidays have been painful ever since. And, truthfully, my first (and only for a while) Christmas overseas was also difficult, but not as much so as the four years that followed. Those four years I didn’t decorate my home, didn’t get a Tree, even listening to Christmas music was painful — to say nothing of seeing the decorations, shopping for gifts in decked-out malls or unwittingly catching a holiday movie on television. I avoided them like the plague; "It’s a Wonderful Life" was the worst. Can you imagine trying to avoid seeing that during the Christmas season? Yeah, impossible. But it was just too painful to see people living out a happily-ever-after ending when I felt so completely that I would never have that.

I think the holidays are harder to survive for single people after the deaths of parents than it is for those who are married and have a family of their own. You really do feel like an orphan with no parents and no home to "go home" to; as well as feeling like a fifth-wheel at the family celebrations of siblings. Fortunately I have an amazing sister who welcomed me with open arms and made me feel not only welcome but truly wanted. I rarely feel like a fifth wheel there.

I think the break-through I had at Easter had ripple effects far wider than I thought. Because as the holidays approached this year I began to feel excitement instead of depression. And that has just grown and even exploded at times. I’m truly enjoying and savoring every moment of this Christmas season. It’s just been amazing. And I realized recently that I have emerged from this time of pain and sadness with a totally different perspective, and a new paradigm.

From Childhood on, Christmas for me was about the lights and the decorations, the Christmas programs (school and church) and caroling, the music, the family gatherings, the parties and the blustery chill of a Southern California December. I have a storehouse full of wonderful memories of this time of year. But it was mostly about the season; about the American version of Christmas rather than the deeper reality of what it is we are celebrating. Oh, I knew about Bethlehem and baby Jesus and all that. And it wasn’t that I didn’t acknowledge that or spend time meditating and thanking God for His gift. I did, but never on such a profound level.

This year I connected with that Truth, that reality of who Jesus is and the sacrifice He Nativitystarsmmade for me, on a profoundly deep and intimate level and it has radically changed who I am and how I see life. Christmas for me now is about celebrating the birth of the most
amazing Gift God ever gave me; the gift of Abundant Life in Jesus. The rest of it — lights, music, movies, smells, etc — is just delicious icing. I am humbled beyond words that He, the Almighty, Most Holy, One True Living God would love me so much that He would willingly lay aside all His glory and majesty and become a little helpless human baby, and subject Himself to all the pain and crap we humans put upon each other. He didn’t have to do that. He is the Creator of the universe; He could have created a different way of salvation. But He didn’t. He chose the hard way. And we get to give each other gifts, race with other mall patrons for parking spaces, and fight with other shoppers for that last Nintendo Wii all because of His all-consuming love for us. I am in awe at the unfailing, unending generosity and grace of God.

I am so blessed. I have so much in the way of physical and monetary provision that many around the world do not have. But even if God allows all of that to be taken from me, I will still be incredibly blessed. I know Love and Abundant Life — I dwell within them! I wake every morning to my Redeemer, my Beloved singing to me and I fall asleep every night to His whispers of His love, protection and grace. I have been forgiven for things I never thought were forgivable and I have found my meaning and purpose in simply living everyBlessedsmnh moment intimately connected to God.

This is what I celebrate this Christmas. This is what compels me to gift a gift, to decorate
my home and my cube at work, to sing Christmas songs, drive around the mall till a parking spot opens up, and watch endless rounds of "It’s a Wonderful Life" and cry with sympathetic pain, and abiding joy every single time. God is good. God. Is. Good. And I am blessed beyond measure!

Happy Christmas everyone. May your Christmas be filled with the most profound Joy and abiding Peace you have every known. And may you see Jesus in a new, more intimate way.

Posted on

Remembrance

Paramount_gate
I read a post this morning that took me back a "few" years. To 1991, when I was working at Paramount Pictures.

It’s odd, really, because I was thinking longingly of the Paramount lot just this morning. Working on a studio lot is much like being on a college campus, complete with the annoyingly stupid students employees and people in crazy outfits (Candy the hat-lady anyone? Or her friend the cat-lady?). There are beautiful little parks and quad areas, old, unique historic buildings, small convenience stores for sundries, the commissary, and all the huge warehouse size studios, not to mention actors in crazy costumes and stars just popping up out of nowhere.

This morning I was specifically thinking about the commissary, and how it stayed open all morning and through the early afternoon—shut up. I was hungry and running late and knew the building cafeteria would close shortly after I got to work. Anyway, I started really missing studio life and especially Paramount. I spent nearly 13 years on that lot. Thirteen very impressionable years. I loved working there — even when I didn’t love it. I loved working on the lot, loved working in Hollywood and in the entertainment industry, loved working in television, even though I was just a lowly "assistant"; I loved it. And there are days when I really miss it. It’s like being in a family, I think. There’s a camaraderie and sense of pride for your studio home, and you can complain and moan about it endlessly but no outsider better say anything bad about it or you’ll snatch ’em bald-headed. And now matter how long you’ve been gone, you still get homesick once in a while. Once it’s in your blood, there’s no getting it out.

So this morning I’m already missing my "home" and my peeps, when I read this post by Ron Moore, the executive producer of Battlestar Galactica (one of my favorite shows; if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend renting the DVDs and getting hooked. It is one of the best pieces of television out there) and I started missing Paramount all over again.

At the risk of writing an overly long post, I want to tell the story of my encounter with Ron Moore. I’d love to send him an email about it but I cannot find an addy — and he’d probably be bored silly with it anyway — so for now this will be my "open letter" to Ron. If you’re not up for a trip down someone else’s Memory Lane, now would be the time to get some popcorn.

Back in 1991 I was a young dreamer with big plans to be a television/feature film writer-producer. I’d been working in television development for two years, and was very ready to move on. I wanted to work on a television show, so I interviewed with every show on the lot that would give me 30 seconds, including Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG). In fact, that was one of my earliest interviews. I met with Ron and Brannon Braga one beautiful late spring morning to interview for a job as their assistant; a job Ron described as "Den Mother" to a bunch of crazy and wonderful writers who needed nurture and a lot of cleaning up after. I did my best to impress them with my knowledge of Trek history, scripts (I’d read every single one for the two years prior), characters, and storylines, as well as my enthusiasm for the franchise itself, without sounding too much like the drooling fan I was.

I have admitted before that I am a Trek fan. A Trekkie (not Trekker; I’m old school, not a snob about my fannishness) who once collected tons of memorabilia. I’ve since divested myself of most of it, but the fan within refuses to die. I watched TOS (The Original Series) as a child — though I must admit that at first I hated the show because it supplanted my beloved "Lost in Space" in the prime 3pm viewing time. But I soon forgave and embraced TOS as my new beloved favorite. As a pre-teen/teen I read every Trek fiction book there was (passed between my two sisters and me), went to all the Trek films within the first week, if not on opening day; and, as part of my 21st birthday celebration, went to my first Trek Convention during Star Trek’s 20th anniversary celebration year, where William Shatner and others regaled us with stories of their adventures during filming. When TNG began airing, I never missed an episode (though I did miss episodes of subsequent iterations of Trek). I don’t know if my pure-fan heart was obvious to Ron and Brannon — I tried not to look like a complete dork — but I was in heaven just being in the Hart building among such history. And I wanted that job soooo bad.

The interview was in the same office I had met with Hans Beimler and Rich Manning a year or two before (can’t remember now). Ron mentions Hans and Rich in his post, and as I read I remembered realizing that his office was their old one during our interview, but I’d forgotten that fact till today. Anyway, if memory serves (sometimes it doesn’t), Ron told me as our time ended that I was their pick of the people they’d interviewed, but that they had already offered the job to someone outside — a friend or friend of a friend, something like that — but had to go through the union-required three lot-employee interviews. They were very apologetic for making me "waste" my time and seemed sincere in both their apologies and their desire to offer me a job. I was bummed but I understood. It happens. I was just excited and happy that I’d made a good impression and a good contact for the future (btw, that policy of having to interview three lot employees was eliminated from our next union contract because so many of us had gone on wasted interviews and complained very loudly about it).

Flash forward a couple of months. I’d finally managed to land, at the very end of the "staffing season," a job on the show "Dear John." Two weeks later I get a call from Ron Moore (himself!!) stating that the woman they’d given the job to had quit to take a better job on another show and I was their first choice to replace her. Oh. My. Gosh! Star Trek! Ron Moore! Wants me!! How cool is that!!

I had the most bizarre mixture of excitement, pride, and sorrow I’d ever had in my life. While I was elated and humbled that they would remember me and, even more, want to hire me, I knew I could not in good conscience leave the show I’d just started to go work for someone else. I was later told repeatedly that I’d been foolish to think that way; that many people left shows during production to take better offers. But that’s just not who I am; I didn’t want to leave my bosses and co-workers in a lurch the way that other assistant had just left Ron and Brannon and the TNG staff. I had to, with much respect, honor, humility and sorrow, turn down the offer. And explained all this to Ron (at least I think I did).

It. Killed. Me. Can I tell you? It utterly killed me to turn that opportunity down. But I just had to for the sake of my own integrity and conscience. Not to mention that I felt Ron and Brannon would always wonder if I would leave them should a "better offer" come along (is there such a thing??). I don’t ever want my bosses to think I’d leave them hanging.

I look back on it now and sometimes wonder where I’d be, what I’d be doing now, if I had taken that job. I think I would have stayed till the end of Ron’s run on the various Treks, and perhaps followed him to his next few shows, if he was willing — or I was interested. Ron went on to work on two of my favorite sci-fi shows, Roswell and the aforementioned BSG, so that would have been very fun. But I also wonder what it would have done to my conscience and my heart. I’m a pretty sensitive girl, and when I violate my own code of ethics, even in a minor way, it weighs very heavy on my soul. I usually don’t survive long before I have to correct the error and make things right. And I don’t know how I would have made that situation right.

I also don’t know if I would have ended up leaving Hollywood behind and living in India in 2001 and Cyprus in 2002-03, and eventually moving to Nashville three years ago. As sad as I am that missed the opportunity to work with Ron, I think the former would have been the greater tragedy. My life is so much richer because of these experiences. I realize each time I look back with longing and a pinch of regret at that summer day in 1991, that as painful as that decision was, it put me on a path that I would not change for all the precious gems in the universe.

I have deep respect for Ron as a writer-producer and as a person. Our one meeting meant the world to me both as a Trek fan and as a prospective assistant, and his phone call and job offer did more for my ego and self-confidence than I can truthfully measure. To him it was probably just a quick call to solve a frustrating problem; to me, it was a solid affirmation that I was in the right business, on the right track and had what it takes to succeed.

Ultimately I think my life took the direction it was meant to take. I’m convinced that was summer day was a defining moment in my life, and a gift of a new direction — even though that new direction wasn’t reavealed for another nine years. Isn’t God amazing? And isn’t Life good! Man, I am blessed.

Posted on

Mixing, Draft Posts, & General Randomness

Random thoughts swimming in my head, in no particular order.

I miss mixing sound for worship services. But I also don’t miss it.

I miss the team camaraderie and the tight bonds of friendship formed between worship team members, including the sound team. I miss the feeling I get every time the worship team start really grooving, when the sound all comes together and you can hear everything perfectly. When I listen to the tunes that first compelled me to become a sound engineer — like I’ve been doing a lot recently — or to other songs from more recent years (aka not from the 80s) that are astoundingly well-mixed, I remember why I wanted to be a recording engineer so bad. There is nothing in this world, nothing, like listening to really great music perfectly mixed really loud on really big speakers. That is just THE Bomb! Man. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it till I die, recording engineers and front-of-house (FOH) mixers have THE best jobs in the world. —–I also miss the freedom I feel to really cut loose and worship when I’m behind the sound board. For some reason I just don’t feel that freedom when I’m just sitting in the congregation… weird.

But I don’t miss the early, early mornings for setting up or the long hours from set up to tear down. And I don’t miss the stress of trying to figure out what’s buzzing or where the white noise (that’s loud static, for all you non-sound peeps) that just suddenly appeared came from (as happened last night at our church’s worship & prayer event; however, I did quickly figure out it was coming from the "house" system and not our church’s one — you can take the girl out from behind the board… ). And I don’t miss the feeling of stupidity that slaps me in the face every time I’m faced with a question about technical stuff or expectations of fixing equipment. It’s the technical aspect that kills me every time. I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around it. —– Some times I think I’ll join the sound team at my "new" church  (been here nearly a year… how long is a church "new" anyway?). But then I think of the down sides and my technically-challenged self chickens out.

—Thought break—

I have a ton of posts in draft form and in various stages of unwritten-ness. The problem? So much to say, and so little ability to say it succinctly. So I tinker and edit and add and delete — and rinse and repeat. I’m hopeful most will eventually find their way to the "Publish" section of my post list. But right now they are, in all their draftiness, really bothering me. I don’t like things half-done….

PS — Marti, Alycelee — that 10-20-30 post is coming, I promise!

—A few other random thoughts—

There are times when I really love being single. This is one of them — though I can’t fully express why. I just am really enjoying the freedom and the privileges that come with not being married. It’s a nice feeling.

"Acceptance with Joy" — the flower’s name in "Hinds’ Feet On High Places" has been on my mind a lot lately. I heard a statement last week about acceptance that said, "If you are disturbed by something, it means you find some person, action, place or thing unacceptable." And that made me think of that little flower, and Much Afraid’s declaration, after considering all the twists and turns in her path to the High Places, and the desert she now found herself in: "behold, I am Thy handmaiden Acceptance with Joy!"

This really, really disturbs me (yes, it is something I find unacceptable), but I have yet been able to finish my post regarding my thoughts on it. I was at first so angry I felt sick. Now I’m just very sad. And concerned for the future of the IMB.

I start my Quantitative Literacy classes tomorrow (Algebra, Geometry, Stats, and general mathematics literacy). Pray for me! Math makes my brain go all fuzzy, and my normal intelligent self tends to disappear in favor of a glassy-eye, drooling zombie (not unlike Ben Stein’s students in Ferris Bueller).Pray for me (and my poor instructor)!

Final random thought for the night: This verse really smacked me in the face yesterday morning. I realized my gratitude to and love for God isn’t translating into generosity, and that stung rather a lot.

"But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as
generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you
only what comes from your hand." — King David, I Chronicles 29:14

Posted on

Living The Real Thing

Sometimes I miss Southern California. The last 24 hours I’ve had several bad bouts of SoCal homesickness.

Some friends from Mosaic called me last night. One friend is visiting from Oklahoma and three others gathered at the home of a fourth, where the first was staying (got all that?), to hang out and visit with the long-lost friend. My name came up and someone got the cool idea to call me and let me in on some of the fun. I loved it!! I got to talk to each one for a bit, even though some of them were distracted by children and cooking "issues," (clean that oven yet, Deb?) and it was so, so good to hear their voices. I miss their fellowship.

Then today, after some good fellowship with new friends from church, I wandered into the Disney Store and got huge pangs of SoCal-homesickness again. I miss Disneyland! Most of all I miss the ability to just go down there whenever I want (I used to have the premium annual pass; the one with no black-out days) and just soak up the atmosphere. While historic Franklin has some of that Main Street feel, it just isn’t the same as the Disney version. Sad, isn’t it; how often we prefer fantasy to reality?

That’s something I’m realizing more and more these days: how often in my life I traded in reality for a fantasy of my own making, choosing to live inside my head instead of in the moment. My grammar school teachers called it "daydreaming," but fantasizing is a much truer definition. I wasn’t just idly passing the time, I was escaping reality, which was either too boring or too painful to stay connected to. So I created a different life for myself in my head, complete with a different family, home and even city. I started this habit so young I can’t even remember a time in my life when it wasn’t a part of my day. It got to the point that I didn’t know how to live completely and always "in the moment." I still don’t.

But I’m learning.

And what I’m discovering on a daily basis is that Life is so much sweeter than I ever fantasized it to be! Not easier — because everything in my fantasies was that easy-hard where the sweat is just as fake as the "reality" it comes from — No, not easier. Just sweeter. There is a richness, a deep richness to Life that only comes when you are truly present in every moment intimately connected with Jesus that cannot be adequately described, or understood, apart from reality.You cannot create this amazing—how do I call it??? — this amazing depth and fullness of life in your head; you cannot imagine it even if you have the creative genius of a thousand Lucases and Spielbergs. I’ve at times been accused of dwelling too much on the pain I experienced four years ago when my parents died and my team fell apart and my dreams disintegrated before my eyes. But the thing is, it’s not the pain I dwell on, it’s how God met me in the midst of that pain and made life so incredibly sweet. Oh so sweet!! Even though I was in agony, Life was so full and rich and sweet. And still is. Still! You cannot create that. Only God can do that. He started me down a new path and into a new life during that time, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for all the world. It showed me just how good Life really is when you spend it staring into the Eyes of Jesus. Oh, God I am blessed!

Last night after I said my goodbyes to my friends, I didn’t hang up. I stayed on the line and just listened to the fellowship of old friends as the receiver was carried (apparently across the room) to its cradle. What an amazing experience! It was like I was there in person, just listening to the various conversations and watching these wonderful friends enjoy each other’s company. Once the connection was severed and the line went dead I felt deep pangs in my heart. I miss the fellowship of these friends. They are amazing, beautiful, dynamic God-dreamers who so often inspire me and fill my heart with warmth and goodness.

It would be so easy for me to romanticize our time together, re-framing it in my head as perfect and holding it up as a comparison to which all my current and future communities of faith must measure up. It’s what I’ve all too often done throughout my life, compared the present to a romanticized past and found the former severely lacking. But that’s just as much living in a fantasy as my "daydreams" were. While the times these amazing friends and I had together were God-ordained, they were far from perfect. We argued and fought and hurt each other, we stumbled over our own brokenness, and struggled with our own issues and insecurities. We made each other cry and shout, and not necessarily in good ways, and we didn’t always forgive or admit wrong-doing. And if we were to spend more than 24 hours cooped up together, even after so long apart, I’m sure we’d all walk away frustrated by silly little annoyances that totally grated on our nerves to the point of distraction.

Sitting in the silence after that wonderful phone call I had to remind myself of these things; I had to go back in my mind and remember some of the bad times and hard times to bring myself back into a balanced perspective. No matter how much I miss them or how dear they are to my heart, their’s is not the only sweet fellowship I have ever had or will ever have in my life. God has other friends in waiting for me, some of whom He "conveniently" arranged to have invite me to lunch today so that I could experience the truth that my quota of friends isn’t filled yet. There will be more "e’spose your toes" groups, more amazing song-writing sessions with talented musician friends, more four-friends-singing-groups, more New Year’s Eve drop-in parties, more middle of the night conversations that last till dawn, more sweet fellowship with amazing God-dreamers. Isn’t He amazing?Lu_at_the_rippys_with_a_sharp_objec

And Disneyland? Well, Main Street is just an airplane ride away. And anyway, Fantasyland is fun to visit, but I don’t want to live there anymore.

PS — this is me not long after coming back from overseas in 2003. Not sure why the Rippys let me play with a sharp object… From the look on my face, that wasn’t exactly the wisest decision they’ve ever made. 😉

PPS — I stole this picture from Ron’s MySpace page. Sshhh!! Don’t tell him.

Posted on

Taking time to Breathe

Warrior2 The weekend was insane. I pulled an all-night-er — my first as a full-time college student — to get two papers completed that were both due Saturday at midnight. One of them was late (obviously). I finished the paper just in time to watch the sun rise Sunday morning. Beautiful!

I’ve been desperate to catch up on my sleep ever since. I know. It doesn’t work that way. But still, I’m trying. I’m going to bed much earlier than is normal for me and still feeling quite tired throughout the day. I’m obviously not as young as I think I am.

Work is not helping me here. It suddenly exploded for me. It’s good. I much prefer being busy — even insanely busy — than idle. I hate being idle at work. Hate. It. So this is good. Just quite tiring. I’m glad I’ve got a bit of a break with school — but also wondering how I’m going to balance everything when we get into September, our busiest month at work, and at the same time start a new class.

Both my classes ended Saturday and now I’m just waiting to hear if I passed. With my next class not until  Sep 5th, I’ve had my evenings free for the first time in almost a year (when I started back to school). I gotta tell ya, it’s really odd to not have to spend my entire evening studying. Very nice, don’t get me wrong! I’m loving it. But it is odd. I feel like I ought to be studying something.

I’ve spent my weeknights staying off the Internet and away from the TV (for the most part). Instead I’m reading books I’ve been trying to get through for months: Abba’s Child, TrueFaced and No Stones. All powerful, challenging books that make you think, evaluate, wrestle and dig deep. So to balance them out and give me a little fun reading, I’ve started to re-read the Harry Potter series from the beginning. It’s been probably been since 2002 since I read them all. Goodness I’d forgotten a lot of details!

I’m also spending time just breathing. I’ve gotten into yoga lately and a large part of it is breathing deep and focusing on your breathing as you stretch and strengthen. And emailing a friend the meditation exercises I’ve learned to do — deep breathing, relaxing and meditating on the names and attributes of God — reminded me that I need to do that more. So I have.

It’s amazing how quickly I forget how to breathe. I really do. Oh, I inhale and exhale. But I don’t really breathe; those deep inhalations and exhalations that cleanse and relax and calm the soul. Today during yoga I was amazed to discover that even during the course of the class my body forgot how to breathe deep. I got distracted and forgot to keep my deep rhythmic breathing, which I’d managed to get up to a 5-count inhale and exhale on each. When I realized I wasn’t breathing deeply, I went back to it only to discover I had to start over at a 3-count and work my way back  up to 5.

I wonder if that happens in spiritual things too; if perhaps it takes our spirits a while to work back up to our 5-counts when we lose our focus.

But when you get it back, when your body says, "oh yeah. Now I remember this!" And suddenly takes a big gulp of air and then moves easily into a 5-count, it is A-mazing! The whole body starts to relax and shift into its proper place. Your back straightens, your shoulders go back, your arms and hands (and jaw!) relax; all your muscles let go of the tension they’ve been holding so the body can put all the energy into whatever movement you are doing at that moment. Simply amazing to experience. I didn’t know my body could do that on its own.

I wonder if that happens in spiritual things too.

I gotta go. I want to read and just breathe.

Posted on

The Stalker In Me

Mac_kitty1 I could so easily become a stalker. I’ve figured out many of the in-and-outs of "Googling" someone and checking those background report sites without actually having to pay the $50 to get a report. I don’t have great success with really common names like John Smith. But I don’t do too bad, if I do say so myself.

Yesterday a friend I haven’t seen or heard from in several years came to my mind and just stayed there. The desire to hear from her and know what’s up in her life became so strong I not only sent an email to her last known email addy, but I Googled her as well. Let me just say, she has a very common Asian name. I didn’t realize how common till I googled it. And got about as many pages as I might for "John Smith". Whoa. And yet…

Within the first few pages I was able to find a blog of someone who had my friend’s name all over it. The guy recently moved to Asia and my friend (and former roommate), true to her amazingly generous spirit and major gift of hospitality, greeted him with open arms and showed him all around the city. There were even pictures of my friend! Not only that, but the reason I found the blog to begin with is because another friend of ours from Los Angeles was also named: as my old friend’s (now) roommate. It was a dead give-away. Otherwise, I would have been searching through hundreds of pages of search results. Not the way I wanted to spend my evening.

The coolest thing is that my friend is back in Asia. She had come home from the same city a few years ago because her job had ended. There was a guy she’d dated off and on before leaving LA and now he wanted to try again. They were going to spend the holidays with his family in 2005 and that’s the last I heard. But that’s not unusual for my friend; neither she nor I are the greatest at keeping in touch with people (why do you think I have a blog???), so I never thought too much about not hearing from her regularly. I figured eventually we’d catch up. Although, I do have to admit shock when I realized just how long it has been (since early 2006). I usually try to check in with people once a year, at least.

Anyway, my friend and another friend of ours, who was longing very much to move to the city in which they now live, are apparently sharing an apartment. It’s obvious by reading the blog posts of the author — who is not someone I know, but looks very familiar; I’ll bet anything I knew him back at Mosaic LA — that my two girlfriends are doing great things for Jesus, building wonderful relationships with people and having a wonderful time. I know my friend well enough to know when her smile is forced and when its genuine. It’s all real. And the smile on our other friend’s face is, well, priceless. She looks like a little kid at Disneyland for the first time.

I cannot tell you how excited all this made me feel! My friend back overseas in the thick of living life for Jesus; doing exactly what she loves and has wanted to do for years, and in a city and culture that desperately needs Him. I’m so proud of her for doing it and for what she’s accomplishing. Not only that, I’m so excited to see pictures of her that are only two months old. She looks amazing! I think that’s what happens to you when you live the life God dreams for you. Your whole countenance changes.

Anyway, back to me (because it is all about me, you know). Now I have a sticky dilemma. I don’t want to email my friend (again), even though I’m dying to tell her how proud and happy I am that she’s back in Asia and that she looks absolutely terrific. I’m too embarrassed!  I don’t want to admit I was "stalking" her on the Internet with the help of Google.

So, like, how far gone am I, anyway? Is it time to call the cops on myself yet…?

Posted on

Nashville N’Stuff

Goodness. Take a little time off blogging to study/focus on schoolwork and the world goes wonky.

NashvilleisTalking‘s future is uncertain. In fact, by the time I get this written it may have disappeared altogether, or morphed into something completely different. About the time I learned NiT was changing, I heard about Metroblogging Nashville. Not sure about this one yet. I’ll let you know as I read more of the posts. Then this morning, Kat Coble opened the doors to Music City Bloggers. At least Volunteer Voters is still going (thank GOD!), though Kleinheider must be suffering from a summer cold. He’s not as snarky as usual.

On the SBC front, SBC Outpost is up and running in its new form, and already stirring up the pot; Art Rogers, as always, has posted some good stuff (especially here and here), Marty Duren’s new ie:missional blog is off to a great start and Ben Cole is, well, you figure it out. Yes, all is getting back to sort-of-normal in the SBC world.

I do have to say SBC Outpost is sorely lacking in women contributors (as in, there are none). That is, in my opinion, to their grave detriment. There are some amazing women bloggers out there who also happen to be Southern Baptists and SBCOutpost would greatly benefit from adding their voices to the cacophony of men’s. Ah, well. We are talking about Southern Baptists, after all. Sometimes the SBC acts like we’re still in the Middle Ages 1950s.

On another subject involving Nashville, I hurried downtown Wednesday evening to see the awesome fireworks Music City puts on for its residents (for free, how awesome is that!). I was not disappointed — until they ended. What the—?! Twenty-five minutes?? Hello! Last year and the year before were a lot longer. Forty minutes at least. I remember sitting in the parking lot of LP Field in 2005 looking through the fence at the river, fireworks going off above me and marveling that they weren’t over yet. I’m sure the show went on for over forty-five minutes that year.

I feel cheated. Twenty five minutes and it was done. I remember seeing the big finale and thinking, "man, they are good, faking us out like this!" In fact, after it was over I refused to get up for about five minutes so sure was I that they’d start firing off more any minute. Nope. And then I was just mad. I want more, dangit! Nashville puts on the best fireworks show I have seen since Disneyland’s 45th celebration called "Believe, There’s Magic in the Stars!" and I want more!

It was not to be. Instead, I had to settle for downtown gridlock. In our rush to make it to Bicentennial Park on time (okay, who in the heck authorized a time change for the fireworks without bothering to advertise said change, hmmm??? Do you know what chaos you caused us all??), we inadvertently parked smack in the middle of gridlock hell, which we promptly discovered in our vain attempt to exit said structure in a timely fashion. It was the only time in the last two years I’ve wished I was still working for the SBC and so could have used their parking garage rather than parking on Church. By the time we got to the lovely Billy Graham statue, a half a block from said parking garage, traffic was clear and the road was open. However, getting to that lovely spot took an hour.

Note to self, new Nashvillians and old-timers who are prone to forgetfulness: never, ever park in the structure on Church and Printer’s Alley during a big downtown event like July 4th. It took us a half an hour just to get out of the stinkin’ parking structure. And then the real fun began. Downtown was seriously gridlocked. It took us another half hour just to get the six blocks down Church, 4th and Commerce streets to 8th Avenue (after that the road was clear all the way to 10th where Commerce dead ends into LifeWay). Oh. My. God. I will never make that mistake again.

Thankfully, Nashville is full of cool people (stupid drivers, but cool people). I never saw any fights or bad behavior before, during or after the fireworks. And despite a few idiots who refuse to believe that pulling forward and blocking the intersection when the light turns red is illegal not to mention unkind to your fellow drivers, no one lost their cool, got horn-happy or yelled at other drivers. I think we all realized we were in this thing together and there was no point in yelling at someone who was just as stuck as the rest of us. Either that or everyone was exhausted from the heat and just happy to be in an air-conditioned vehicle with padded seats. At any rate, I was never happier to cross the 65 and head down the "open road" of Broadway/21st toward home.

Even with all that mess, Nashville’s still the best place to live on the planet. But next year I’m parking up by the courthouse on James Robertson Parkway so I can beat a quick exit via the bridge (and catch I-24 South) out of the downtown suck-zone. Here’s to learning from our mistakes.

Posted on

Family Photos

MoviestarIn honor of the Hallmark holiday, I thought I’d post a couple of pictures of my dad, and his dad.

My dad was the son of a farmer, and always called himself a farm-boy. One of his favorite movies became "A Princess Bride" because  he loved the story of a farm-boy turned pirate who was still just a farm-boy at heart in love with a princess. Mom was his Princess, and he used to say, "As you wish," ever time she asked him to do something — because, as the movie’s narrator said, "every time farm-boy said, ‘As you wish’ what he was really saying was, ‘I love you.’"

But he sure good lookin’ for a farm-boy! He could have given old Archie Leach (aka Cary Grant) a run for his money.
Grandpaeverettandnina_2
Here’s his dad, Jim (the farmer), with my sister when she was little.
I’m told he got to meet me, the namesake of his beloved wife, but I don’t remember him. He died when I was not even three. But grandpa, I’m told, was a man of quiet strength and quick wit. Things my dad obviously inherited.

Dad had a wonderful charm about him that endeared him to everyone who saw it. Of course, he also had his military side, and all us kids saw that side every time we misbehaved, which I did often (I can’t help it; I like to push the envelope!).

Ninaanddad
He wasn’t any kind of perfect. He stuffed his emotions more than he showed them; he struggled to balance his desire to preach the Word of God boldly with his complete distaste for the "fire and brimstone" sermons he grew up on, and lamented to me more than once that he felt he failed his men more often than not in giving them the truth straight up because he didn’t want to sound like the preachers of his past. And he was a perfectionist that was never satisified with himself or his children unless we’d done something near perfect.

But he was also a loving, generous, kind man who wept, well he’d say his "eyes watered"Loverskiss
when His children — especially this little one — returned to God. He was fiercely proud of all his kids, especially my sister Nina because of her huge heart and willingness to help anyone in need. He just didn’t know how to show it. He came from the generation where real men don’t show emotion and don’t give out a whole lot of compliments. He did his best to raise four very different, stubborn, energetic, dynamic children and give them all what he thought they needed for living a life of deep connection with God. Sometimes he failed and sometimes he succeeded.

For better or worse, I am my father’s daughter. I’m often told I look like him. I know I sometimes think like him (sometimes that good and sometimes not so much). I have some of his speech patterns too. I also seemed to have picked up his fierce love for the Southern Baptist Dadandmeandida
Convention, his strong aversion to politics and his desire to serve God in ministry. He and I used to talk for hours about missions, cultures and reaching the lost for Christ within the context of their own cultures. He and mom wanted to be missionaries with the FMB (now the IMB) and my sister Paula sometimes says that I was fulfilling their legacy by going overseas. I don’t know about that. But I do know I loved having a father that was just as passionate about the most important thing in my life as I was.

Oh, and I loved his hugs! He would let me just hang on forever. I think hugs are my love language and I could get allDadandmeonmysweet16 filled up by just standing in the kitchen holding onto my dad while he talked to mom about his day and she cooked dinner. I cherish those memories! I miss those hugs.

I miss my dad. But I know he doesn’t miss this earth. Sometimes, like holidays like today, I get very homesick for heaven.

Happy Father’s Day to every father out there. May God bless you this year as you struggle to live out your destiny and purposes the best way you know how. Yeah, you’re gonna leave some scars on your kid(s), there’s no way to avoid it. But don’t worry. It’s nothing that God can’t fix. May He grant you all wisdom, grace, and a wicked sense of humor.

Posted on

Family

Family2001I just spent four fun joy-filled days with Family. Despite the stress of getting through a blended-family outdoor wedding on a cold and rainy night, we had an awesome time together. I saw a niece I hadn’t seen in nearly ten years along with her two sons, my brother whom I hadn’t seen in four years, and got a surprise visit from a nephew I hadn’t seen in three years.

We laughed till our sides hurt, got loud and playfully obnoxious as we played our favorite family game of Nerts, had some serious talks, and just enjoyed being in each other’s presence. I had a fabulous time, even though my sister’s home was overflowing with family, and a little drama.

It wouldn’t feel right, would it, to not have a little drama at a family gathering; someone upset/hurt/angry at someone else for God-only-knows-what-reason. Sadly, I’m usually in the middle of the mess. If I’m not the offended one or the offender, then I’m trying to help "resolve" the issue by taking offense for the one and taking action against the other. I never helped matters any, just got myself all tied up in knots emotionally.

Thankfully, I stayed out of the drama this weekend. I did start to try to "fix" a particular injustice before I realized that it was not my job and backed off quickly. It was hard to do at first — our family is very good at meddling in each others lives (boundaries again)! It’s a hard habit to break but I did it. I kept out of the middle and just let the dramas play out. It’s amazing how quickly stress dissipates when you realize you aren’t responsible for fixing the world and keeping it happy.

I don’t think my mom ever learned that. She was the one at every family gathering who constantly focused on the comfort and happiness of everyone else. If you didn’t have food or drink or a smile on your face, she felt she’d failed in her duty as hostess and mom, as if she was responsible for the happiness of the world. Or at least the world around her.

I’m a lot like that. I want to make sure everyone has whatever it is they need to be happy, relaxed and content. Trouble is, I can only provide so much. I can get them something to drink, bring extra cookies when I get myself one or give up my seat so another doesn’t have to sit on the floor. But I cannot change the heart of a petty, lonely bio-mom jealous of her daughter’s step-mom and make her follow proper wedding protocol, even if the slighted step-mom is my sister. Nor can I make a 19-year-old husband grow up or a pregnant 20-year-old’s life less of a hormonal roller-coaster. And I cannot save my niece’s marriage any more than I could save my mom from dementia.

My mom never learned that, so she spent her life – until dementia claimed her mind – desperately trying to make everyone happy. If even one person wasn’t happy, she wasn’t happy. The thing is, she didn’t have to do anything. Her personality and spirit brought joy and sunlight to people the moment she walked in a room. Her husband of 61 years, family and all her friends would readily attest to that. Yet till the day she could no longer remember, she was desperate to make everyone around her happy.

I’m like my mom in many ways, so perhaps it was only natural that I would pick up on her desire to please everyone, keep everyone happy and at peace with each other. As a young adult I used to get so frustrated with her. "Mom, just sit down and enjoy your dinner! We’re all fine! And if we need something we can get it ourselves." I swore to myself I would never be like that with my own family. But this weekend I realized she left a gap in our family. So many people coming and going with so many things on their minds, no one was really watching out for the rest. Don’t get me wrong. We aren’t a bunch of self-absorbed jerks (well, not always), but we don’t always think about everyone else either. So before I could even think about what I was doing, I stepped in and filled mom’s old role. I constantly heard my mother’s voice coming out of my mouth: "Do you need something to drink?" "Can I get you something to eat?" "You want to sit down?" It was really weird when I realized what I was doing, like standing outside myself and watching it all happen. But I think I was able to take the good stuff of my mom’s servant heart, and leave behind the need to please everyone and keep the peace. At least I hope so.

word count: 816 – 316 over my goal….

Posted on

Like a Stupid Bug

I came across this post the other day while surfing the NiT aggregator and laughed because I know the bugs the author was talking about. I’d never seen them before moving to the South, but they are indeed the stupidest bugs on the planet. Or at least in the South. They come out with Spring and spend most nights throughout spring and summer banging themselves silly on whatever around them shines the brightest, desperate to “go into the light”. Maybe they’ve watched Ghost Whisperer a few too many times.

The night after reading that post I saw heard one of these bugs desperately slamming itself against my rain-drainpipe. Poor thing must have gone blind looking at the motion light right next to it and mistook the shiny-ness of the drain for his into-the-light opportunity. I walked into my house laughing, still hearing the incessant bzzz-clunk!-bzzz-clunk! Stupid Bug indeed.

Today a thought smacked me in the face as hard as that Stupid Bug hit the drainpipe. Maybe I’m just like that bug.

Go with me here for a moment. I’m thinking as I type, always a dangerous thing I know, and we could very well end up way off in the tall grass instead of the playground. But I can’t help wonder if perhaps I really am more like those Stupid Bugs than I want to admit. I keep banging into something shiny thinking it’s my moment to finally step into the light, only to be thwarted by some stinkin’ metallic thing, or worse, by hot glass that not only forever separates me from my goal but burns me badly in the process.

Kat recently reminded me I am not alone. She took offense at me saying that God is all I have. It wasn’t meant as an offense, nor had I forgotten her friendship, or that of many others in my life. Rather, it is a true admission that everything else in my life will one day leave me. Kat, you will one day die, my friend, as painful and ugly a thought that is to both of us – and if I am still alive, you will leave me behind. Everything and everyone else in my life is the same. They will all one day die and leave me. God is the only thing in my life that will never leave, never die, never walk away. When all else is gone, He will still remain. When all else fails me, He will not. For a girl with serious abandonment issues, this is a truth too good to believe.

So instead of basking in that truth, reveling in it and celebrating it, I spend my days banging away at false lights, determined to go into them, no matter the cost. When they elude me, as they always will, I get frustrated and kick my legs in the air like some petulant two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum. Its only when I’ve exhausted myself and lie there on my back, panting, too tired to move anymore, that I am able to hear God’s whispers of Truth. “I am the One True Light.” “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” “You are mine and I love you.”

I didn’t go to church today. I was exhausted from another round of banging away at the light. This time it wasn’t Purpose I madly flew toward, but something else entirely that would take a whole ‘nother post to explain, so I won’t go there. But the effect was the same. Exhausted, on my back, legs flailing like a Stupid Bug. I could have pushed through the exhaustion and gone to church anyway, as I’ve done for other things important to me. But I just… didn’t. Instead, I slept.

When I finally came enough awake to recognize hunger and went in search of food, I fully expected to hear the stern Voice of God berating me for “forsaking the assembly”. I certainly felt like a sinner for staying in bed, so why shouldn’t He see me as one? Surely He would have harsh words for me, a supposedly “mature” follower, stubbornly staying in bed with the covers over my head instead of facing the world head-on.

He didn’t. His voice was sweet, His touch gentle, His words soothing. He wrapped me in love and spoke of never leaving me, never condemning me, always loving me, always being “for” me, even when I run from the very life He’s giving me.  He asked me questions, nudging me to go deeper into the dark things in my heart and life that scare me into hiding or into frantic slamming against false light. And even when I was too scared to go any further, He stayed, still enveloping me and whispering His love.

I don’t know what Stupid Bugs do during the daylight. I don’t recall ever seeing them except at night. But I have to wonder if they try to fly into the sun the same way they try to fly into my porch lights or if they just bask in its warmth and ever-present light. Perhaps its the loss of the the sunlight that makes them crazy and brings on the frantic desperation to get into whatever available light they find.

Maybe that’s my problem. Even though God is ever-present, there are dark things that can block out His light like an eclipse and make life go as dark as darkest midnight. When I lose sight of Him I go a little crazy and frantically look for another source of light, any light. When I find it, I slam the hell out of it in desperation, until I exhaust myself, or daylight returns.

I know there is way out of this cycle. And someday I will trust God enough to live through the dark nights without getting frantic or desperate for false light. But in the meantime, His grace covers me, even when I choose to sleep instead of “do church”.

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness. — God