GGG Unplugged: "Welcome To Our World"

Brought to you live via GGG Kitchen Cam, it's my first attempt at recording music to broadcast via the internet. You guys had better enjoy this while it's still free! I mean, seriously, when I'm packing out stadiums and stuff, you all will be able to remember back to when I was putting music out there for free... Oh, wait... it's not my song... Crap! Can't charge for it! haha... Oh well. Wishful thinking I suppose.

Yes, I know part of my head is cut off and the audio lacks much to be desired, but if any of you would like to contribute to the "Launch GGG's In-Home Musical Studio" fund, you just let me know and I'll tell you to whom to make out your check! Until I at least get a tripod, this is the best I got.

I'd like to do these a lot more often; I don't know why it never occurred to me before to do a musical post. So many writers, such as the featured Chris Rice, pinpoint exactly the thoughts going through my head and the prayers whispered in my heart. So hopefully, when I don't have the time to knock out some "amazing" verbage, I will remember to do one of these.

Why this song? Well, for many reasons. Advent is a time of preparation. We prepare our homes to offer hospitality to friends and family. We prepare gifts as gestures of our love toward others. Spiritually, we prepare our hearts by considering the Christmas story and its significance. We intentionally mull over the connection between the manger and the cross. We prepare the world for Christ's return by feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and giving more generously than we have given over the past year, expecting nothing in return.

This song reminds us why we need Messiah to fill that manger. Our souls hunger, our world reels and aches with toil and strife. We wade through life, wondering when we may welcome Jesus back into our world once again. Really, we welcome Him back into our world every day as we wake up to face the day and all that will transpire. He is truly with us, watching over in times of peril and rejoicing in times of mirth. May our lives be lived as songs of praise, welcoming Jesus to our world anew every day.

Holiday Hope

"There is a past which is gone forever, but there is a future which is still our own." -- F.W. Robertson

I just have to take a moment to gloat a little. Today is my rockin'-est day of December yet. Got kids off to school this morning, had my hot coffee in hand. We woke up to a day that was already 30 degrees colder than predicted. Seriously, I think our high temperature yesterday was 79 or 80 degrees! Who needs Hawai'i for Christmas when you could take a gamble on Texas?!? At any rate, I got home, put on all my uber-cold weather gear, wrapped my pipes, pulled all of the old, mostly dead plants out of my garden and built a fire in the fireplace. Even as I sit here with my steaming cup of homemade apple cider, I can hear the crackle of the dry pecan wood over the Amy Grant Christmas CD playing. The high temperature for the day was 39 degrees, around 0730 this morning. Temperatures have been dropping slightly all morning, and you can just tell that the thick, grey clouds overhead are pregnant with moisture. What I wouldn't give for some snow!

Speaking of which, this winter storm charging across the midwest reminds me of our first Christmas at FT Riley, Kansas. This Texas felt as if surely Christ were hovering above the horizon, threatening to return -- it was just ungodly cold and snowy for what seemed like years (really just four solid months -- but still!).

I digress. Christmas cards got sent last week. Three out of four PLMA papers have been typed, proofread, and submitted as of today, the original deadline. I've got chili simmering in the crockpot, and I just finished making cookie dough so that the kids can help me bake and decorate our cheap economical Christmas gifts for teachers. I've got all but one last Christmas gift bought and paid for, but I still have wrapping left to do.

Either way, I'm unusually chipper for this time of year. What's up, GGG? Did you put a little Captain Morgan's in that "apple" cider? This just isn't like you! No duh -- I've even surprised myself! Hahaha...

I've actually been mulling over this post now since 10 DEC. I was in the kitchen over at the sink, and looked up long enough to read the quote on my "Home Sweet Home In Family, In Nation, In God" calendar. The quote I fell upon, posted up above, really struck a chord with me, and I wanted to pay that forward to you, The Readership.

We won't even get into all of the problems in the world. I started a short list in my last post that couldn't even cover the tip of the iceberg. When I read this quote, however, I didn't think about anyone else's problems. I selfishly thought of my own. Of course, my thoughts naturally jumped right to losing T. As anyone who specifically loses a spouse, you grieve not just the loss of your mate, and hopefully best friend as was my case, but you also grieve the loss of your future together -- you grieve raising your children together, rediscovering your romance once the nest is empty, seeing each other through health scares and taking care of each other as you prepare to look Homeward. You grieve the loss of children you will never give birth to. For me, I also grieved the loss of the military lifestyle and watching my husband work diligently to earn rank and change jobs and grow as a father. You grieve the loss of being grandparents together. Am I making my point? There are just so many things you can't even think of until you're a little down the road and they smack like big juicy bugs on the windshield of your life. Then you just look at it, crestfallen, and think, "Crap." I'm sure that people who lose children grieve the loss of seeing them grow up, find careers, fall in love and marry, and watching them blossom into the adults you always prayed they would be. I cannot know for sure since that has not been a part of my life. Either way, memories are bittersweet and can cause as much anguish as they do laughter and nostalgic smiles. All you have is the past -- you no longer have a future with this person.

Then my thoughts jumped to my extended family situation. Maybe many of you have been in this position. My grandparents are having issues associated with growing older and reaching a different, difficult stage in life that affects everyone who knows and loves them. There is a lot of musing about how quickly things have changed, how things used to be, and what on earth the future will look like. The grief process has likely begun for some in my family who live far away and see the changes more starkly because they cannot be around to see the gradual progression of life. For them, I think an entire chapter is over and another begun, not necessarily one that is pleasant but rather is part of the natural course of human life. For those of us who live locally, we see the pages turning one or two at a time, but to others who live further away it might seem like reading the first few pages of the chapter and then skipping fifty pages to the next chapter. For all of us, it makes us realize how blessed our past has been with these two precious people and how we long to return to those days when we were all younger, vital, and thriving. But the fact remains that we can't regress to the past.

No matter if you grieve the loss of a loved one, if you have lost your job, if you have fallen out of love with your spouse or you are awaiting news from the doctor regarding your health, there is a past which we all might look back on and realize that it slipped right by us. This can be oppressive at the holidays. No wonder suicide statistics are higher at this time of year. We all need to allow ourselves to take time -- time for rest, time to eat well, time to reflect and pray, time to cry or be angry. These are things that are necessary, not only to keep us sane, but even to keep our bodies healthy. However, it's easy to get stuck there and bog down. We've got to allow ourselves that time of addressing our burdens, a time of healing, and a time of moving forward.

C'mon, GGG, what about Jeremiah 29:11? Don't you know that's the perfect verse here?? Yeah, whatever. That verse used to give me fits. "Oh, really? God has a future and a hope for me? Mmm, yeah, he's got a jacked up way of showing that." As terrible as that sounds, I needed to get to that dark place, the bottom of the pit of despair before I could not look any lower -- I could only look Upward. Only then could I really appreciate how God could act in my life and come to treasure Jeremiah 29:11.

As I wallowed in my muck for a little while, I recalled something I had heard Thelma Wells of Women of Faith fame talk about at an old conference. She gave a personal testimony about a long string of hardships she and her family had endured through the years, and she turned it around with Lamentations 3:22-23:

"22Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 23 They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (NKJV)

Or better yet, read how The Message paraphrases vv. 22-24:

"God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left."

After I claimed that as a promise, then Jeremiah 29:11 was less of a bitter pill to swallow. There was, indeed, a future ahead of me, a future I could pursue and take hold of, own for myself. If I already knew God to be consistent and faithful, why would he not uphold this promise, too? I had to come to terms with the fact that the future and hope I had originally envisioned was gone, but that didn't mean that there was not another, completely different, completely wonderful future ahead of me.

The past is just that, and we can't live there. We can dust it off and revisit it, but there is a future ahead of us. It may not look like we planned, but there is a tomorrow. That future waits for us to get up, get moving, and claim it with God's help. That is my Christmas gift to you -- to encourage you to move forward, one small step at a time.

Quick Reflection

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -- II Corinthians 4:18

This is the Bible verse on my desk calendar for November 30. This is a date that is etched on my heart forever. For me, it is my 9/11. That is T.'s birthdate into heaven. Really, I struggle with that day and the day before, which is when he had the accident on the motorcycle, but that's a completely different blog. This verse really captures my view of what happened that day in the surgical ICU in LSU Medical Center in Shreveport, Louisiana, and it's something I need to remind myself of more often.

I didn't blog anything on November 30, not because I was avoiding it or dreading it or planning some uber-emotional tribute. We were out at the cemetery laying a wreath that day, with the cold, damp late fall wind whipping our hair around, musing about how long it had been, how fast the time has gone and yet how it has seemed to go so slowly at the same time. I'm learning that, as Heath Ledger's widow has lamented, the longer T. is gone, the more I miss him. Strangely enough, it hasn't kept me from embarking on a deep, sweet love with R., which is God's working in and of itself. In fact, when R. showed up for the holidays, I could just feel every muscle in my body relax and my blood pressure go down. It was so comforting to see the continuity in my life that he brings and how he allows me to both go on loving T. but yet move forward with my life with him. As stressed out and emotional as I get, I know that all my complexities can be exhausting, but he loves me through it and comes back for more.

But back to Shreveport, 2005. I didn't have the extensive mental Scripture file that some of my friends have, but I knew this verse. I couldn't have told you the book, chapter, or verse, but I understood this truth in my heart. When I realized that T. was gone, not breathing, not going to open his eyes any more, not going to sit up and complain about having to eat spaghetti one more time, or fight back to good health, my thinking had to shift immediately from temporal to eternal. To consider the temporal without T. was to want to reach into his chest and pump his heart with my own bare hands to make it work again. I could not dwell on this because I would have begged for death myself. Instead, I know that God had already planted the seed of eternity in my heart -- I instantly had to look beyond where I was, standing over the body that no longer contained the soul and let him go. I actually had to tell him this, that he needed to go. In looking back, he was already gone and I would realize this when piecing together details after my brain was functioning somewhat normally later on. But for me, I had to put him into that eternal context to keep from caving in on myself.

Flashing forward to Advent 2008, I reconnected with a college buddy last night on FaceBook who had not heard of T.'s passing, and it obviously came as a real shock to him. I remember telling my friend Marily about this last year, and she was completely speechless as well. And even just last week, HisGirl was watching Super Nanny and was just floored by the episode involving a widow with a two year-old and a five month-old, which is almost exactly the ages Li'l G and Bud were when T. died. It was a real eye opener for her on what our reality is like, especially with such little ones in the picture. What's amazing to me is that I have come through any of this, and now this feels normal, if such a bland, descriptionless word could ever be used in this context. I have no idea how I have made it this long, and still have no idea how any single day in the future will transpire. All I know is this: having an eternal perspective has everything to do with it.

Consider this: Our economy is as fragile as a glass Christmas ornament. Terrorism is a constant threat. People die every day in tragic ways, and more still are diagnosed with terminal illnesses. Millions of people in our own country sleep under blankets of cardboard in sub-freezing temperatures. Children starve and are abused. In my own life, I have certain ideas on how I'd like things to play out, but there are no guarantees. To live with our focus on the temporal is overwhelming, at least to me. Even the wonderful glimpses we get of beauty and love are not enough to get me by. To live with an eye on the eternal is where I draw my strength and my hope. It helps me to get past all of the pain and hurt in the world, in my own life, and to keep walking toward the One I know to be faithful, the One constant in a world filled with variables. "How do I know this?" I have been asked countless times. To be honest, you can read your Bible or not; I don't really care about that. All I can say is that God has been there for me, revealed to me in real and tangible ways that honestly speaks louder to me than Scripture. Hang me up to dry if you want. I read my Bible as often as I can and revel in its words, but there is absolutely nothing like experiencing, really experiencing, the peace which passeth all understanding in real life. There is nothing like knowing that the same God which brought his people out of Egypt and cared for them in the wilderness for 40 years is caring for me in the midst of my wilderness. There is nothing like knowing that the same God who bodily resurrected my Jesus has my sweet T. in his care right now and has made him whole, healed his broken heart and body, and is guiding the kids and me all at the same time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've not read any passage of Scripture that says he will take away our pain if we just pray or come to him. What God does promise is that he will never leave or forsake us. He is there if we keep our eyes on the eternal and don't let the temporal distract us.

As I prepare in my home and in my heart for the birth of Jesus, I think of Him in a tempral perspective, and it brings a lump to my throat. This precious, soft, sweet child is our sacrificial Lamb. Those tiny little fingers and toes will end up bearing Jesus' physical weight and the spiritual weight of our sins on the cross someday. How sad! How tragic! But in an eternal perspective, it inspires awe. This baby boy, through the love and nurture of his earthly parents, grows up and maintains His obedience to the Father. The story begins with the stirrings in the womb, continues through the labor pains, infancy, toddlerhood, life as the son of a carpenter, radical ministry that ends with His death on the cross, and is still continuing at the right hand of the Father. Why wouldn't we want to focus on the eternal in this picture?

This may sound crazy and hair-brained, and I'll give you that, but it has everything to do with how I understand my world, how my perspective has changed and continues to do so. I have got my eyes fixed like a laser past the end of my temporal existence to one that is eternal. It gives me hope and strength to march on with purpose in situations where I cannot comprehend uncertainty, grief, suffering, or even evil in the world. And even as I try my hardest to speak light and life and live what I believe, I still pray constantly, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"

May that also be our prayer as we journey toward Christmas and, ultimately, Resurrection Day!

Christmas Thoughts

I've got so many things on my plate right now this minute that I shouldn't even be posting, but this song has really touched my heart this season.

I promise to be up and posting soon... Enjoy this song -- it really speaks my heart...

The Week(s) In Review

"A cheerful heart is a good medicine." -- Proverbs 17:22

I just realized today, as I was catching up on all of my Bloglines feeds, that I have been relatively "offline" for almost two weeks now. It seems like a lot longer than that! Not only have I not posted in that long, I also have read very few posts of others. My apologies for being such a slacker!

If your house is anything like mine right now, it's a real mixture of excitement and exhaustion, long grocery lists, recitals, exponential amounts of laundry and cleaning to do, and a potentially sick child as of bedtime tonight. In the midst of this, I'm trying to keep my chin up and soldier on, but my knees are already starting to feel a little weak. Between PMSing this week and celebrating T's third birthday in heaven, I know that God is going to have his hands full listening to my prayers for the next week or so!

In light of all that has gone on in the last two weeks, and all that will undoubtedly transpire over the next one, I thought I'd take this point by point and try to find God's fingerprint in all this mess...

Recitals: Li'l G has had two of these in the last ten days, one of which went for about two hours and ended around 8:30 P.M. on a school night. Ugh!! The one today was so, well, weird. Let me just say that the recital itself went well and was thankfully only 20 minutes long. But when we were warming up and rehearsing her "piece," her debut of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," she just mentally shut down. Couldn't even remember the song. Partly she was distracted by Bud watching "Pinky Dinky Doo" in the background, but I suspect now that she wasn't feeling very well. It really made me panic -- she was about to perform this song by herself and she couldn't remember even half of the song that she's practiced almost flawlessly since August! Somehow she pulled it off and did a really good job, but you could tell by looking at her face during the recital something just wasn't right. Then she tossed her cookies tonight after dinner. GREAT! TMI, I know, but I'm a mom so I have no qualms discussing childhood ailments. Now I feel like a total dragon mom for hounding my kid to get out there and do her best when all she probably wanted to do was lay down and croak because she had a low grade fever and wanted to sleep. Where is God in this? In the sweet little face of my beautiful baby girl. She is such a fighter and wants desperately for me to be proud of her. One more recital after Thanksgiving and then we get a month-long break, thank God!

Parish Lay Ministry Academy: I attended my last class session last weekend, and literally wanted to throw a tantrum and refuse to leave when the day was over! This two-year program has been such an amazing experience; it has literally changed my life. I can honestly say that, while I'm so incredibly grateful for this experience, it's made my life extremely difficult in many ways. First of all, there is the time when you have to complete reading assignments, papers, and projects. The kids have certainly watched their fair share of movies or played unsupervised in the backyard (gated and locked, though -- I promise!), and many family members have come through to hang out with them as I spend full-length days in class. Even though these have been serious sacrifices for me, the real difficulties have been internal. While I have had to read some borderline-heretical material, God gave me a clear understanding of what was false teaching and what wasn't and why that was so. I have had to excavate some serious familial demons, assess my own spiritual understandings, and measure that up against society's yardstick. The real problem I'm having is that I have come to some stark, clear understandings about myself and how I believe based on things I have learned. In and of itself, this is not the problem; rather, the problem is how to interact in the world, quite honestly. There are certain perspectives out there, popular and seemingly Biblically based, that I just cannot endorse anymore. Combine my strong conviction with my personality and that should pretty much explain my conundrum in a nutshell. I've also come to the conclusion that I need to pursue seminary. Every possible avenue I've looked into has turned into a dead-end so far, so I'm taking at least the first half of next year to digest what I've learned, get back into shape, volunteer at Li'l G's school, and see what unfolds. I want to savor this time of my children being young and still wanting to be around me. I just have this nagging feeling that my days are numbered the way they stand right now, and I want to enjoy each of those days and cherish them. Where is God in all this? Oh man, he's ALL up in my grill. I feel like Martin Luther walking through that field dodging lightning bolts. The problem is, I'm still unclear on where any of this is leading. So I'm putting the ball back in God's court. And waiting. Again...

Church stuff: Good.grief. You can't even BEGIN to know how much stress this has brought to my life over the last couple of months, much less the last two weeks. Some days I don't know whether to thank God that he put me in the position where I am or to curse the day I decided I needed to be involved. I can say this: I'm learning a LOT about people, both in general and specific ones. In my church in particular, I'm having such a weird experience. To my knowledge, I think I'm the first charter member child who has ended up serving on our church council, which is kinda cool, but is also very eye-opening. I have even asked my praise band cohorts, "Have things always been this way?!? If so, was I just blind to it because I was a kid and didn't notice?!?" Where is God in this big, hairy tangle? Good question! No, seriously, I know he's there. This whole season at my church is like a fire that was raging hot and engulfed with flames at one point and has now been reduced to a pile of ashes. If you poke around in the thick mound of ashes, you will still find a handful of red, glowing embers, and given the right conditions, that fire can be ignited again. Because I'm an emotional person to whom it comes more naturally to react and take things personally, I get all wound around the axle about the drama going on and even want to wash my hands of the whole thing sometimes, but I'm really learning that a handful of people respect my opinions, so I try to be clear and deliberate about what I say. I'm also learning the power of saying nothing. (I know, I know, stop the presses! haha!!) But as I have learned from Exodus 14:14, the battle does not belong to me; however, I am really trying hard to discern what role God would have me take in the next steps we take as a congregation. It's definitely a labor of love for me.

Thanksgiving/Gathering With Family: Who else's Thanksgiving gathering this week will put the "fun" back in "dysfunctional"?!? There is so much strife floating around in my family that at one point today I was actually having chest pains. Once again I was asking, "Have things always been this way?!? Or was I just too young to have noticed that the adults aren't playing nicely together?!?" R. is coming this year and will help us with some of the food prep. I always love schlepping him around with me at these kinds of things. His perspective is unbiased and fresh when it comes to assessing the social atmosphere at these gatherings, and I really appreciate his insights. To be honest with you, I'm desperate for this to be a relaxed, joyous occasion. I want the food to be scrumptious, the weather to be chilly, the home in which we're gathering to be cozy, and the laughter to be contagious. What I absolutely, down-to-my-core cannot handle is eyes rolling, back-biting conversations in hallways and corners, or just crankiness in general. With the third anniversary of T's accident and death just two days later, I am striving with all my might to reclaim Thanksgiving as the happy, comforting gathering that it was when I was a kid, both for my children and for my own sanity. Family drama needs to take a vacation, for crying out loud. Where, oh where is God in this picture? Going straight up my spine and into my heart, keeping me upright with a smile on my face to get me through this holiday. I'm counting on it 200%.

Advent/Christmas: It's been hard for me to have the emotional energy left for this holiday over the last couple of years, and for longer than that I've been so righteously pissed at what our society has made of this holiday. However, this year I have decided to take this holiday captive, too. I'm going as overboard as I can possibly go and still have a dollar left to my name. I'm trying to participate in as many opportunities to provide gifts or support as I can. I am trying to make the house festive and exciting for the kids. I'm trying to wrap my heart around the miracle of Jesus' birth, who He truly is, and how to apply this in my life. I want the kids to have a magical, memorable holiday, while also seeing that not everyone has warm, soft PJs and toys. I want them to be able to connect the soft, sweet baby in the manger to the grown man on the cross at some point. Advent is a season of preparation, sometimes somber anticipation, but always a time of remembrance that God is faithful and fulfills his promises, including his promise to send the Messiah because of his love for us, even when we don't always love him back.

To be honest with you, I haven't been very cheerful lately, which is why I chose the opening verse. And in catching up on some of my blogs, I can tell I'm not the only one. It's a hard time of year for more people than we realize. Case in point, my cousin's sister was just taken off life support recently and died. She had sustained a Christopher Reeve-type injury earlier in the year. It caught us all by surprise. Then a woman in the local community died from a stroke quite suddenly. She had taught music and been involved in a jillion things for over 60 years, and even played piano at my church when I was growing up. Last but not least, Li'l G reported to me on Friday that one of her friends' father was sent to jail last week. This little boy is just adorable but can be a behavior problem. I've written about him before; for some reason, he just touches my heart. Now he gets to go through the holidays with this burden. At the age of five. My heart just aches for all of these families for whom Thanksgiving will feel like a hollow experience -- been there, done that. Yet I know that "there are still good times to be had," just as Shelby told Miss Clairie in "Steel Magnolias." If we really look, get down on our hands and knees sometimes and scrutinize, we can see God at work in all these situations. When I can identify that, it makes it easier for me to find hope, to see even one positive thing, and that uplifts my heart more than kind words or inspiring songs. That, indeed, is good medicine.

My Heroes

"Blessed by the LORD my Rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle -- my lovingkindness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and the One in whom I take refuge..." -- Psalm 144:1-2a

This is by no means a complete grouping of the men and women serving our country who have touched my life. Two in particular I can think of but couldn't find pictures of are CPT Julie and CPT M. Stubenhofer. CPT Julie is a sweet friend of mine who is a nurse in the Army, and CPT Stubenhofer was the first person I knew personally who died in action. His wife is an amazing woman that I am proud to call my friend. One more is my father-in-law, R.T., who served twice during Vietnam.

To all of you serving now or who have served in the past, you will never know just how much what you're doing means to not just your own country, but to the rest of the world. Your selfless service and sacrifices are truly humbling. To your families, we stand with you, the ones who serve on the homefront.

My Heroes

Thank you all for being my heroes. Happy Veteran's Day.

Samplings From My Mental Smorgasbord

I have had six or seven different blogs percolating in my mind over the last week or two and have yet to blog about any of them. In fact, I should be loading my sleeping toddler into the car right now this minute to go pick up my daughter from school, but if I don't jot down a couple of ideas before I leave, I'm afraid I may never find them again! Rather than taking the time to blog about each item in full length, I'll give you all the Bottom Line Up Front (BLUF) about each topic over which I've been mulling:

Politics: Christine over at Red Lipstick Diaries has been waiting anxiously for me to post something meaty post-election. And while I have strong opinions and could do just that, I have kept true to my word and not blogged about something for which I had no edifying language to publish. Now that the dust has settled and the Obamas have had their first meeting with the Bushes, here's what I have to say:

Just as Christine herself said on Facebook, it's time to be the united states and time to cease being either the red or blue states. An administration can only be successful if every single person is doing their part. So we deal with the next four years shoulder to shoulder with every other American, regardless of their voting preference. If we want to be perceived as a strong, vital nation, we have to actually be one. That will be harder for some (read: me) than others, but I truly believe that's what has to happen.

Religion: See posted picture above. Really, my religion and politics opinions could all go in one big section. In both areas, it's impractical to be a purist in whichever school of thought you fall under. Contrary to popular belief, extremism is a frightening concept to me. I think there are ways in both these areas to focus on the things that we have in common and emphasize on those, rather than spend our time having conversations where no one is truly being heard. There are certain areas where people are going to disagree, and it doesn't necessarily mean that either side is not truly Christian. Just means they're different. For example, what I'm reading right now for Lay Ministry about leading worship really brings this into light for planning worship services. I'd love to explain all of the amazing things I'm learning, but I'm afraid there would be an explosion of grey matter all over the computer screen. Just too much to boil it all down.

Role of Women in the Church: I'm writing a paper about this and must admit I approached this topic with an anti-Paul sway based on what I, at the time, believed to be godly teaching. I think, if I could boil this one down to a statement, is that Jesus personally commanded each one of us to love one another. I believe that where we started having "issues" or "problems" is where our sinful human element took over and started trying to figure things out or get things organized. Do we as humans need structure and organization? Basically, yes. Do groups get priority in the pecking order? Eventually. Did God intend this? Well, dear Readers, I believe my answer to that is now no. (Ducks for cover before the tomatoes pop me upside the head...) Honestly, I really don't know that we can say for sure. I can already hear arguments on both sides and see validity to them both. I don't see this question ever being answered to anyone's satisfaction this side of Paradise, guys.

Obama's Pre-Presidential Activities: Barack and Michelle met with George and Laura this morning at Quarters 1 to kinda "get the inside scoop." Apparently the women went off to do things like talk about how irritating it is when the guys drink beer, scratch themselves, fart, and watch football or something, whilst the menfolk had a history-making hoedown in the Oval Office. Seriously, folks, do you KNOW how many eggs I would've sold to have been a fly on THAT wall! No media were allowed to follow into the OO, and no aides were on hand, either. The words that were exchanged in that room are known only to them and to God. I can't even know whether to faint from terror or to faint from excitement.

One last point before I leave the topic of politics but under the "Obama" tag. I read an AP story and heard repeated on the news that the "Obama team" is reviewing the record of Bush's executive orders. According to the AP, one of the first things our President-Elect wants to do is reverse every one of Bush's EOs to try and undo all of the legislative marks GW has left on America. All I can say is: America, hold onto yer butts. It's gonna be an interesting ride...

Parenting: Having some significant issues these days with Bud. Not end-of-the-world, kicking-him-out-of-school issues, but ones that I just don't know how to handle. I feel completely inept to handle this, and I realize that parenting is mainly learn as you go kind of stuff and trusting God to give you guidance along the way. The BLUF here is that I see in Bud many of my characteristics. Many of my not-s0-good characteristics. I know which road they led me down at one point, and it grieves my spirit to think of that being in his future. I'm fervently praying that God will help his teachers and me to flip a switch in that little round head of his before he grows up to be an out of control teenager in a mean, viscious world. Or at least let me be dead before he ruins his life. (Just a joke, guys.) :)

Grief/Loss/That Whole Drama: Things have really been piling up here. I think, in particular, needing T. around to help me parent a son has been weighing heavily on me. To make it worse, I have had dreams so vivid I can still feel the softness of his lips or hear his mellow voice as I wake in the morning, and my reality comes crashing back down on me like an Acme anvil. With R. being there for me emotionally but not around physically to spend time with me or just take care of me, let me curl up in the crook of his strong shoulder and just weep, I have felt as though I would burst. 11/30 is just under three weeks away, and I'm already dreading it. Funny, it affects me differently every year. While the happiness and love in my relationship with R. is proof-positive that things in my life are moving on in a promising direction, the struggles of being a single parent, and how I became a single parent, really rain on that parade. I've read and re-read scripture about this, and it's not that I don't take comfort in that. It's just that scripture and God don't replace my loss. Plain and simple. Some days I just need to be sad without religion and salvation getting mixed in. While memories bring joy somedays, they feel like Chinese water torture on other days. November's just a hard month.

Looking for something positive? Well, that depends on your description of that. I've been accused of being a chronically negative person. OK. What's yer point?!? No really, I just have a very different way of seeing things. I see beauty in suffering, growth in change and painful times, and realize I must give my children up each day to God. I can't swing from the rafters with a smile on my face like some people. My way of being positive is to continue walking in the soupy fog, knowing that God will always provide a path for me to go down. And that's really enough for me.

R.I.P. U.S.A.

I could just spontaneously combust. Can't even know where we'll go from here. But hey! We made history didn't we...

I promise: no political blogging until I have something nice to say about Osama, I mean, Obama. So it may be a while...

Tim Russert, Where Have You Gone???

American politics and elections just aren't the same anymore without Tim Russert and his famous dry erase board. Rarely ever have I seen someone so excited about democracy in action. Regardless of who won or lost, Tim always had a way of electrifying the watching, waiting nation.

On this election eve, as I channel surf between the various networks awaiting word for preliminary results, I can hardly pay attention to the evening routine around the house. Even though I know that this election is almost at an end, I'm terribly apprehensive. Who will lead us for the next four years? Will our Democratic Congress actually get anything of real value done in this country, or will it act like a group of unruly toddlers, making us all wish they'd find a sippy cup to shut them up? How will this next president handle the lives of our soldiers? Will they be put at risk as a result of this election? Will Osama Bin Laden be rejoicing that America made a foolish decision and is lifting her proverbial skirt and flashing her immaturity to the world? Or will he feel like he's hitting a wall of resolute, unyielding steel because we have chosen a strong, aggressive president who will restore honor to the Colors once again?

I hate this feeling of malaise and flippance in my heart tonight. I voted early, so I know I took part of the process. But when I see so many people, good people, intelligent people, people I love and respect, feeling so strongly about someone that I do not support, it makes me wonder either what am I missing or what are they missing. I think about how Gore would've handled 9/11 had he won the electoral vote, and I have to force myself not to vomit and wretch at the thought. Anyone who even jokes about having invented the Internet ought to be on medication to keep the arterial flow going, not running for political office, but hey -- that's just me.

No matter who wins, I'm for one glad that this four year-long ordeal is over. I'm tired of hearing the names, watching debates, hearing people warp the truth and bend it to meet their agendas. I'm even tired of hearing people do that to Scripture, and even more so when it comes to politics. I would love to give a hard slap to people in the media who no longer report news but personal opinion. And I'm sorry if lots of you like to watch, "The View," but I'm ready to not have to hear about those nagging harpies pouncing like greasy vultures on the carcass of some unsuspecting guest who has been invited to be interviewed, not dissected. And Oprah can take a hike while we're at it, too! I've simply grown weary of being told what to think and why to think it by people whose income tax return is larger than the amount of money I take in all year. And when they violate the trust of the public they claim to serve, well, in my opinion they've reached an all-time low. Was state-run media in Communist Russia any different? Not really -- just on the other end of the spectrum.

OK. Am I negative tonight? Yes. Am I tired of things being the way they are in America? Yes. Am I hoping for a miracle in this election? Yes. Am I praying that the Holy Spirit will work on the hearts of all people in our country? Yes. Am I praying that God will soften my heart to have a shred of respect for whomever will lead this country next? HECK yes. Am I praying that God will be the One at the helm of this nation, to guide and protect all its leaders and citizens? Absolutely. At least if Tim Russert were here, maybe some of his enthusiasm would rub off on me.

"UBI LIBERTAS IBI PATRIA" ("Where liberty dwells, there is my country.") -- Benjamin Franklin

Get Out There And...

Doesn't matter how you vote -- just get out there and DO IT! As the saying goes, if you don't participate, you lose the right to bloviate. Translated: if you don't vote, you lose the right to complain!

All kidding aside, I think, despite what some Lib friends of mine say, that this race will be the closest one yet. I think I have a good idea of who will win, and it honestly makes me highly concerned for the future of our soldiers and our economy. I don't trust this individual or the running mate chosen, and I can only imagine what our country will look like a year from now if this person wins. On the other hand, I'm not particularly convinced that the team running on the other side of the ticket are the individuals for the job either. Until we, the Voters, take back our country and demand real leadership, as I've said time and again, we get the candidates we deserve. I just pray that God will have a hand in all this today and in the outcome of our democratic exercise. We shall see...

"May the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you rule the peoples justly and guide the nations of the earth." --Psalm 67:4

Even so, LORD, guide our nation.

I Heart Joe(y) McIntyre

Please, ladies, we're all grown ups here. Please refrain from getting out your old BOP posters and throwing your panties at the computer screen. Really. So juvenile.

My friend recently went to this concert and I'm SOOOOO insanely jealous! I will say, however, that she redeemed herself:

I nearly peed in Cracker Barrell this morning at breakfast upon receiving this birthday gift!

I swear, this whole day has been full of flash backs. Birthdays are among some of the logical days in one's life to look back and reflect on days and years gone by. Ten years ago today I was more than likely celebrating my 22nd birthday with T. down at Texas A&M where we went to college together. Less than a month later Aggie Bonfire would collapse upon 12 fellow students and change our lives and the traditions of our dear school forever. Twenty years ago today I was turning 12 and trying to figure out who I was, being in the 6th grade at Travis Middle School. I looked up to those big 8th grade girls and their tidal wave bangs, thinking there was no way I would ever look that cool. The bathrooms constantly smelled of Aquanet hairspray, and we begged our parents to let us carry Esprit purses filled with fruity lip gloss, a myriad of pens and pencils, and sacred feminine supplies that most of us wouldn't need for another three or four years. Our lives were filled with cute, scrawny boys in ill-fitting football uniforms, side pony tails, longing to be popular and have a boyfriend, passing notes, and pouring over copies of BOP magazine to gaze adoringly into the eyes of our future husbands, for me, it was baby-faced Joey McIntyre of the New Kids On The Block. Oh, heavenly days! Would it be possible to find a boy that could ever pour out his heart to me to the words of this song? How I pined to slow dance forever in the arms of my Boston boy!

At any rate, just wanted you all to flash back with me. And hey, if the next time I see you all and one of you is wearing your jeans rolled up to proudly display your colored slouch socks and your t-shirt tied off to one side, I totally won't judge you. :)

Poems, Prayers, And Promises

There are so many thoughts floating around in my head today. I have been showered with love and blessings from my children, R., friends old and new, and family alike. My heart overflows with gratitude to my gracious heavenly Father and to all of you who have wished me well. You are all the example of grace to me -- a gift that I cannot deserve.

I've had a good time flashing back today. Between the silly photographs, the New Kids On The Block CD that my friend, "Marily Considine-McIntyre", gave me, and the wishes from people I haven't talked to in a good twenty years, I cannot help but thank God that he allowed me the chance to be here, in his kingdom on earth. The journey has been beautiful, excruciating, confusing, exhilarating. I think year 32 will be the best one yet.

If I died tomorrow and you all wondered what I would have to say reflecting back on my life, I can think of no better way than to sum it than John Denver did in one of my most favorite of his songs, which I leave you with now, "Poems, Prayers, and Promises." Enjoy that as you flip through the album below...





"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." --Joshua 1:9

A Conscience Captive to the Word Of God

"There is not enough darkness in all the world to put out the light of one small candle..." --Arthur Gordon

When is the last time you felt convicted about something? Not just convinced of something, or feeling one way or the other about something like who you will vote for on Election Day, but convicted? Have you ever felt so strongly about something that, the more you thought about it, you almost felt haunted or consumed by it, possibly to the point where you could not keep your opinions or ideas to yourself?

In a world consumed with not hurting people's feelings and political correctness, many people chose to keep their most deep feelings tucked away. In my parents' and grandparents' generations, speaking your mind was dangerous, and you most certainly did not discuss things like who you voted for at an election. Many bloggers won't discuss politics or religion because they don't want to offend those who don't share the same viewpoints. I can definitely respect those who believe that their language should be edifying and uplifting as a response to living out the Gospel, but I hardly see how it is un-Christian to have an opinion and confess it. Had Jesus been terribly worked up about being politically correct, we'd all probably be wearing prayer shawls and phylacteries and living under Torah Law. Since when did it become a sin to confess one's faith, opinions, and beliefs?

As many of you know, I'm one of these outspoken types. It can be a blessing and a curse to be sure. Once I research a topic and decide where I stand on an issue, I am happy to engage people in discussions about things that most shy away from or frown upon. As I have been working through lay minister training and the various topics of study presented therein, I have been a mass of information to chew on and digest. It has done nothing less than completely change the way I view my world. I have fumbled through this life, picking up pieces of different denominations and expressions of faith here and there, adapting my thoughts or beliefs as I learned what I thought was truth as presented by people I trusted, "standing on the Word of God." When I had reason to return to my hometown area and the Lutheran church after having sampled so many other expressiosn of Christianity, I was hesitant at first to come back. I saw my fellow Lutherans as closed off to modern concepts and ideas and expressions, and I wanted to not be stared at if I wanted to raise my hand during worship, for example. But the more I looked into Lutheran ideas to see if this was how I needed to be the weekly venue for my expression of faith and how I understand God, I realized I was theologically in the right place. At the same time, that has presented problems for me that have been emotionally crippling. I see our little church struggling through hard times, and it pains me to see this happening to the body of Christ. Outside our doors, I see a culture of people wanting to be entertained at church, scorning communion, scaring people into praying the sinner's prayer to take Jesus into their hearts so they don't go to hell, and it makes me want to vomit. Every.single.time.

I, like Luther, apparently have a flair for offending people. If only they knew how many times I do the "copy/paste/cut/edit" thing in my mind before I start talking about certain topics! As Luther confessed at the Diet of Worms, I, too, am guilty of speaking harshly at times. This is hardly a very Christian thing of me to do, and I have to pray for God's help in taming my tongue. But I tell you, my friends, there have been times when I am so worked up about the garbage someone else has just passed off as gospel truth that I am trembling from the need to stop them in their tracks!

Why on earth am I rambling about all this? Reformation Sunday was celebrated yesterday by Lutherans around the world. I would hope that anyone who is Christian of any denomination would have at least acknowledged it, but I highly doubt that they did. Luther never intended, and I'm quite sure would be abhorrently appalled today, to split up the Roman Catholic church and create the Protestant movement, much less an entire denomination that aligned with his ideas so much as to take his name. He was so intensely repulsed by Rome, the papacy, and human corruption in the church that he wanted to clean house. Even when the peasants revolted in his name, he implored the princes to put down the rioting crowds. People took a good idea and went too far; however, it is what it is, and those of us who read Bibles not written in Latin can thank Martin Luther for that freedom.

Independence. We value that above all else in this country. Not just in the political realm, but in our choices of religiousity as well. Our pastor preached yesterday about how, every 500 years, it appears that the church undergoes major reformation. We are in an age of that right now. Five hundred years ago (circa A.D. 1541), Martin Luther was the first small candle railing against the corrupt darkess, along with Calvin, Zwingli, and many more. Five hundred years before that (circa A.D. 1054), the Catholic church split into two groups -- Roman Catholic and Orthodox. Five hundred years prior to that (circa A.D. 550), the Roman Empire fell. And folks, five hundred years prior to that (circa A.D. 30), a Jewish rabbi claiming to be the Anointed One was healing and preaching, only to be crucified, dead, and resurrected. What began with one man and his disciples has spread over thousands of years and hundreds of thousands of miles to what we have today. All because people were willing to be used by the Spirit. To draw that line in the sand, at the risk of losing lives or offending people, to say, "My conscience is captive to the Word of God... Here I stand; I can do no other."

I agree with my pastor, and Luther, in that you don't scare people into seeking Christ as a way to avoid the damnation of the Fiery Pit for all of eternity. God created us because God wanted to love us, to have a relationship with us. And we don't take the name of Christ and then condemn others who don't agree with us and pine for the days when we're taken Home. When Jesus truly resides in our hearts, we are activated to serving in the kingdom, the kingdom of God here on earth. We are called to love one another and serve one another, expecting nothing in return. Not increased memberships at our churches. Not more coins in the coffer. Not more souls for the fold. I truly hope my opinions don't offend anyone; it is simply how I believe. I cannot be a purist to one man's theology or another. What I do know is that Jesus calls us to love. If we turn the Gospel into the law, we have defeated the whole point of Christ's sacrifice on the cross. I cannot take part in that anymore. If that has to cost me readers on this blog, friends in this world, or other potential benefits, then I take that on willingly. I don't expect high-fives here, and I'm sure someone could take things I've said here personally. I pray that, as you all find your places in this world and sort out your heart before God, that you will find a firm foundation of what you believe and hold fast to that. Seek out wise counsel, talk to others about what they believe, but keep your eyes squarely on the cross and judge everything you hear by how it holds up to what you know Jesus has done for you. Don't be afraid to say, "I personally don't believe that." Where would we all be if others had not the courage to do just that?

"Hear counsel, and receive instruction, that thou mayest be wise in thy latter end." -- Proverbs 19:20

For Cryin' Out Loud

What is it about the power of the tear? Crying is the outward expression of such a huge range of emotions. Newborns cry as a means of survival. Many people cry when in either physical or emotional pain or distress. A toddler who has wandered away from his mother cries tears of panic, frightened at being alone. Bud cries big crocodile tears in protest of going to time out. Li'l G cries from embarassment and shamefulness when she is called on doing something that she knew was wrong. I cried tears of joy when these two crazies popped out of my ginormous belly. T. cried tears of disbelief that he had become a father. I cried tears of frustration yesterday because my lack of time spent at the gym is starting to show when I go to Pilates. And the kids and I cry tears of anguish, weeping bitterly for the daddy that they can't see but are told loves them even now as he stays in heaven with Jesus.

Tears are so powerful.

It's been an odd week for me emotionally. I personally have not spent much time crying, unless you want to count the huge lump in my throat at Pilates yesterday, but that was just me being frustrated with my lack of gym time and knowing that I should and could be handling my stress better. At any rate, I understand very well the blessed release of allowing yourself to cry. When I observe others crying, it doesn't necessarily make me uncomfortable. I generally think that, rather than attempt to console someone and end up saying something completely insensitive to their situation, they should be allowed to cry it out. Better to cry than to bottle it up.

I was touched today watching a little girl cry at Li'l G's school. I met Li'l G up at school with a special lunch and sat with her and her classmates at the big tables. A table full of Kindergarteners talking and eating simultaneously is NOT for the weak-stomached! S4J would've had a stroke envisioning all levels of unsanitariness (???) of this lunchtime experience, but I was rolling with it, enjoying watching these kids in their element. I felt like I was watching an episode of, "Kids Say The Darndest Things," with Bill Cosby. It was great.

I visited with Li'l G and the kids sitting around us, as they all dug into their ice cream first and talked with their mouths full. As I looked up and down the table, trying to remember all their names, I noticed one little girl sitting at the far end, reserved for kids who need "help focusing on eating their lunch." I know this little girl has issues with behavior but seems to be a good kid. She cried, at times hysterically, throughout the entire 30-minute lunch period. What was she crying about? What set her off? She sat curled up in her chair for a good amount of time, looking back over her shoulder towards the window with a thousand-meter stare on her face, eyes shiny, nose swollen and red. Then, at one point, she turned around and put her hands up to her ears, almost as if she was trying to drown out the noise in the room. I just had to wonder: what is it in a five year-old's life that would prompt an emotional reaction of this intensity that lasts for this long? Having been a teacher, I immediately had a long list of possible factors, and my heart just broke for her.

It was odd. As I watched her sit there crying, it was as if I could envision her at 12, 15, 23. The look on her face spoke of years of intense emotion of some sort. At the tender age of five, she chooses to express herself in a fit of tears and acting out during centers. How will she choose to "get it out" at 12? 15? 23? I'd love to think that she will be raised in a God-fearing, Christ-proclaiming home, or at least have family members who will pray for her throughout her lifetime. I just wish I had had the words, and the legal ability, to tell this troubled little girl that, no matter how bad it gets and how mad or frustrated or lonely she feels, there is a real God who loves her no matter what choices she makes in life and no matter what terrible things people may have to say to her. Her life is no accident, and she is not alone in this world. Or to quit crying about not getting to sit by her best friend and eat her dang PBJ already! (just kidding...)

Our schools, offices, hospitals, Wal-Marts, churches, and grocery stores are full of people who are still that small, hurting child inside. Who will dry their tears? Who will care when they've reached their breaking point? Who will encourage them to ask God to help them forgive? Who will live out the Gospel for them in a way that doesn't turn it right back into law, setting them up for expectations that no one but Jesus can meet? My friends, we are all called to do this. This is a huge responsibility, right?!? Absolutely. Are we capable of doing this? Absolutely not. This is just where we've got to let the Comforter do his thing through us. For me, if I can just remember to pray for this little girl every time I drive past the school, I feel like I've at least done something. I try to speak to each of the kids in the class, remember their names, smile, joke around with them, and encourage them whenever I help out up at the school. I may not be kicking in the door of her home and rescuing her from some dramatic situation, but I can be the one happy face she sees in a day. Even that counts.

"Stadium Pal" and Sedaris

Most of you know a couple of things about me by now if you've ever read one of my rants-n-raves or have read more than one post here on the blog: a) my political leanings, and b) I heart David Sedaris. I've been plotting to go with my friend, JO, to go hear him on 20 April next year, and I've read and listened to several of his books.

Much to my glee and delight, upon pulling up my Bloglines today, when I should've been writing a history paper, I saw were I had some blogs to catch up on over at Dooce's place. She was sharing about a performance Sedaris gave recently in Salt Lake City. He was commenting on the election, and I think this just about hits the nail on the head, no matter which side you end up voting for:

"I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention?

To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked."

I'll admit, he does use a foul word here or there, but, in the eyes of someone who aspires to write, he seems to use them judiciously and with a reason, not just to be a cussing dope.

Here is a recent clip of him on David Letterman. I might need one of these items he's talking about since I seem to live in the car these days! You might want to put down your hot coffee so you don't burn yourself as you laugh!

"Stepping Into The Ring" With Nicole Johnson

Oh.my.word.

Speechless. Awestruck. You must watch this.



My beautiful friend, Jenster, writes and speaks for the cause of breast cancer and those who have had to parent children through the ordeal. You can find her postings here and here. Also, for more support and insights, click on the "Mothers With Cancer" icon on my right sidebar to take you straight to that amazing blog.

The Amish Challenge

Let me preface today's post with a disclaimer. "Great!" you're thinking. "What did GGG do or say now that's gonna cause great gnashing of teeth and wrenching of hands?!?" Well, nothing. Yet. Here it is: I did, in fact, have a great time on this trip and had some wonderful, amazing experiences. I think I had an expectation of what I thought being amongst the Amish would be like prior to embarking on this trip. So, please read the rest of this blog keeping that fact alone in mind. I don't think I necessarily have to point this out; however, religion is a touchy subject for some people, and I do not want my thoughts to be misinterpreted here.

When I think back to the religious aspect of this trip, there are several thoughts that come to mind. While not all people agree with me here, I am the kind of person that is fascinated with learning about other people's countries, cultures, and religions. I believe that God created us so that we are all unique and have something to offer others that they can take away and be blessed by it. For example, in a religion where leadership is reserved for males only and their houses of worship even remain segregated, Jewish women, the female head of the household, is the one who lights the candles 18 minutes before the sun sets on Friday night to mark the beginning of Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath. Mosques, in the religion of Islam, are also segregated and only used for prayer services -- things like instruction or marriages do not take place in these grandiose structures. I would not know about any of this had I not gone to a mosque in Istanbul last November and taken a Jewish heritage tour of the city with an amazing young father, Josef Ben David, who took our group past three two-foot-thick bomb-proof sets of doors just to reach the actual synagogue where he would talk to us about various traditions in the Jewish faith. I love learning about the traditions and practices of people who are completely foreign to me -- it is truly amazing to witness the diversity of Elohim's creation.

Specifically, though, I really felt that I fell short in this department on my recent trip to Pennsylvania, however. Lancaster County, PA, is considered the heart of Amish country for our nation, yet I felt as though things were very hidden or clandestine. One thing I have learned from being in Muslim countries is that you don't go around outright taking pictures of people, unless they come up to you. I really wanted to respect the privacy of these beautifully simple, quiet, humble people, but I was just aching to hear their voices, have a conversation with them, to hear what their daily lives were like, to hear about the tenets of the Amish faith to see what, if anything, we shared in common. But I still felt as though we were kept at arm's length.

We were invited by a Mennonite pastor to attend his congregation's Sunday services, and I was disappointed that we weren't able to attend. Had I known we wouldn't be able to attend, I think I would've skipped out on the movie at the Mennonite Information Center and just had a good conversation with him.

As we progressed through the trip, we did pick up tidbits of information about the Amish here and there. We absolutely fell in love with the adorable Amish children we saw everywhere, peering warily at us from underneath tousled braids and neat straw hats. I love the fact that they focus on how pride can infect our lives and how they are constantly humbling themselves, almost to the point of subduing who they are (which I think maybe could be a little extreme). I learned that you would never hear them tell you that you were going straight to hell for not believing as they do. I think that's a lesson every human being, especially modern day Western Christians could take to heart. HisGirl was interested about how their views impact evangelism, but I think that there is a way you could marry the two concepts of wordless witness with the call to expose others to the good news of the Gospel in a way that is meaningful and effective.

Even as much as I did learn about the Amish, they still remain a complete mystery to me. I wanted to respect their privacy, but oh, how I wanted to really get in there and hear more! I found this document at the Mennonite Information Center that really blew me away, and I think this is the true challenge to believers everywhere:

THE AMISH CHALLENGE

"We realize that not everyone is cut out to be one of the plain people. Many have not the opportunity, but here is the challenge:


If you admire our faith, strengthen yours.

If you admire our sense of commitment, deepen yours.

If you admire our community spirit, build your own.

If you admire our simple life, cut back.

If you admire deep character and enduring values, live them yourself."

--an Amish man writing in Small Farm Journal, Summer 1993

Happy Birthday, Dizzy Gillespie

When I think of jazz and what the good Lord intended it to be, I immediately think of a short list of musicians. Partly that is because I am a relatively new fan of this genre of music, but also partly due to the fact that the greats in this area are just so incredibly talented that they seem untouchable by so many other very skilled musicians. In the category with Dizzy I definitely put Miles Davis, my personal favorite, Charlie Parker, and John Coltrane. But there is just something about those cheeks, right?!?

To a musician who is so tied to the notes on the page, as S4J can attest, it is unfathomable to me how jazz musicians can simply pick up a line and run with it in the middle of a song. That fact alone truly blows my mind. I also love the fact that jazz is probably one of the only genres of music that you could say truly began in America.

Upon doing a little reading about Dizzy today on what would've been his 91st birthday, I learned that he moved to Philadelphia as a young man in 1939, and eventually played in Cab Calloway's band, another guy I really enjoy, but more in the big band category. I also learned that he grew up in a musical household and that he has been immersed in a home culture of music since birth, being the youngest of nine (!) children. You never see a picture of him where he isn't smiling the most laid back, relaxed and groovy smile you've ever seen, and as you watch him perform you can see how he really transcends the present and puts his whole mind and body into each note coming out of his famous trumpet.

One of the things I love most about any type of purely instrumental music is that you don't need words to convey a message. Whether it's Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A, Opus 92, Allegretto (one of the most intense, emotional classical pieces you will ever hear in your life), to Dizzy playing "A Night In Tunisia (which will make you want to get up and salsa dance), to the carillion in a church's belfry playing "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee," there is raw emotion and energy in each note. No words are necessary to take the listener to places of quiet meditation, release of emotion, or the need to get up and move their feet. Each time I pick up one of my instruments I marvel at how God gave humans the knowledge of music in the world. Composers write music as intricate in design and instrumentation as the design of the cells in our bodies. How did we ever discover that, by pulling a string tight and pushing our fingers down on it at different places, or by forcing air through constricted places using metal and wood, we could make such elaborate expressions? I'm in as much awe over the miracle of music as I am an eyelash on a newborn baby or the lacy pattern of a snowflake. God is soooo good.

So on this day, to celebrate the life and musical gift given by God to our brother Dizzy Gillespie, I give you one of my most favorite jazz pieces, "A Night In Tunisia."

Meet The Chicas

I, like S4J, am having trouble knowing where to start and what all to say. What makes it worse is that, the longer it is since I've gotten home, I'm losing the freshness of all the memories and the high of being in Pennsylvania this time of year. It's taken me several days of working a paragraph at a time to even get this much out! I'd better crank out a couple of these while my brain is still functioning...

I thought I'd take some time to introduce you to the Chicas. Not all are bloggers, although some are. And let me state right off the bat, as to avoid any unforeseen "issues," that I'm not trying to be clique-ish here. I just want you all to find out what I enjoy about each of the '08 girls. With no further adieu, I give you the Chicas of 2008!

As many of you know, this is HisGirl, mommy and blogger extraordinare. She is the fearless leader in the group, our virtual cruise director. I may be the first one to charge into a burning building, for example, because someone said there is a child trapped inside, but His Girl will stop everything and discern a proper and efficient plan of action that is usually a hundred times more effective than bursting through the door. To say she is zany and hilarious is to really not do her justice, and to say that she thirsts for more knowledge of the Lord is the understatement of the year. I'm the cranky Martha trying to make everything just-so and be a good hostess, while she is the focused Mary, sitting at the feet of the King, soaking up wisdom and love that she doles out in generous measures to everyone in her path. And just when you think she's going to tell you to settle down, she does something completely hysterical like get verklempt over homemade fried chicken at an Amish restaurant. She is the Devoted Disciple of the group.

Next comes S4J, my musical partner in crime. I have known her the longest out of all the girls, and is actually the person who introduced me into the group. S4J is also the co-cruise director. She accuses me of being multi-talented just because I have musical ability. This heffer can take photographs that make Annie Leibowitz look like she's using a Dora the Explorer disposable camera, not to mention sing like a profession and even learned how to play guitar on a 12-string! Her sense of humor is just skewed enough for us to be lots of trouble together yet somehow keep her out of hot water. If you were to be stranded on a desert island with the two of us, I'd be the one trying to make a fire. She would be figuring out how to clean the water and sterilize things, after washing her hands, of course. I'd be kvechting about mosquito bites while she'd be singing some silly song about mosquitos being minions of the devil in the most pleasant voice you've ever heard. She would also let you cry tears of frustration until you were completely exhausted. She is our Loving, Looney Listener.

Our next chica is not a blogger, so she doesn't have an online handle. Let's call her... Rebecca Yoder. Or the Weaverton Schoolmarm. Your choice. Mrs. Yoder here is apparently the one we've got to keep our eyes on. She is quiet, gentle, funny, but has started coming out of her shell. She's like a geode: she may appear like your average, everyday stone you might find on a naturewalk, but once you have cracked this stone in half, there are brilliant, spectacular crystalline formations that you would never know was there if you only looked at the outside of the stone. What an unexpected surprise! When I first met RY she was quiet and reserved but always sweet as shoo-fly pie. Then last year in Seattle she surprised me by playing percussion (read: homemade shaker) during praise and worship. This year she pulled the rug out from under us! Not only was it her idea to put a certain someone's chonies on the line for "Jacob Yoder" next door to see, she hornswoggled us into a one room schoolhouse for an encounter with the living dead! (Think the Amish version of "Children of the Corn" and you'd be on the right track...) That sneaky Rebecca Yoder. It's always those quiet ones that you never suspect. That's why she's our Blossoming Blessing.

Here is one of our newest chicas, fresh off the farm. I really think this picture speaks more volumes that you could ever know. Also not a blogger, this new chikkie -- let's call her Bambi Stoltzenfus -- is my SOUL MATE! (OK, like, in a friend-to-friend way, you dirty birds!) It's a rare thing when I meet someone who shares so many qualities of mine. There is another chica who falls into this category, but she was not able to be here for this year's excursion. At any rate, I worried that we I would run her off and make her think we were complete weirdos. Yeah, right! Not only did she fit right in, she helped us take our ridiculous silliness to unheard-of levels. I don't think I've laughed so hard in my life about teaching kids why they need to use handsoap! If you were at a New Kids On The Block concert with her and asked her, in a moment of adolescent stupidity temporary weakness, if you should throw your panties on stage, she'd be two steps ahead of you: she'd unsnap the sides and give hers a toss and look at you like, "Hurry up!" However, I think my favorite thing about Mrs. Stoltzenfus is, in addition to her hijinks and hilarity, she is incredibly grounded and unwavering in her faith. She is the High-Octane, High-Quality Chica.

Meet yet another new chica, Jenster. (She's the one on the left.) Jenster graciously opened her home and hospitality to S4J and myself the night before the other chicas arrived on the scene, and I wonder if she had any way of knowing just what she was getting herself into! Mwaa ahh ahhh!! At any rate, she's funny, sneaky, and can crack the funniest joke you've ever heard while keeping a completely straight face. Two seconds after she's said the most hilarious, snarky thing you've heard in your life, she's overflowing with a wisdom and perception of how real life intersects with scripture and holy relationship that just blows your mind. On top of being a wife, a mother, a breast cancer survivor, and new chica, she is also gifted at speaking and integrating how faith should look in our lives, not how we should talk about what we believe. She is definitely the Deep Waters Chica.


This is our Chikkie. She makes each and every trip with us, in full garb depending on where the Chicas are headed that year. This year she is sporting her plain clothes, reminding us to focus on simplicity and keeping it simple. She may be the quietest member of the group, but her presence is always required in group pictures and ridiculous antics. Part of the fun of going on this trip each year, besides the big "reveal" of where we're headed to next, is to find out what Chikkie will be wearing to coordinate with the new location or theme. Not seen here in this picture is her evil twin, the Dirty Birdie. DB hasn't actually made an official appearance yet on these trips, but her presence is well-known and represented! We try to keep this under wraps, but once you get a gaggle of women together, well, you can imagine how it goes from there!

Lastly, here I am, giving you my best Jacob Yoder impression, trying desperately not to wet my pants with stifled laughter. If you could only know how hard we laughed on this trip, you'd think we would all have ripped abs by now! As for what I bring to the group, that depends on who you ask. Despite what actually ends up transpiring, I attempt to bring music and laughter to the group. I can usually be counted on to say something off-color to get someone to laugh or purposefully get the group charged up and their energy flowing. Which chica would I be, then? I'm just good ol' GGG.

Another Anniversary

A year ago today I welcomed my hero home from war. It was 3:00 A.M. and I was running on pure adrenaline, but it was so worth the trip! Hard to believe a whole year has gone by!

Love you, babe!

"The Mermaid Chair": Yet Another Book Review

OK, I really don't have time to devote to books other than my academic stuff right now, but I finished this literally standing up in the kitchen, as S4J was waiting on me to get into the car so we could leave for Chicas last week. This book doesn't tend to get good press, and I think it definitely deserves a shout-out.

First of all, I've noticed that, at least for this reader, SMK books start off slowly and I tend to not care about the characters or the groundwork she's laying until a little way into the book. For some of you that may sound harsh. What I'm trying to convey is that, if you're looking for something that starts off as a cliffhanger and makes you strap on your parachute so you can BASE jump into a plot already in progress, then SMK novels are not for you. While I like that to some extent, I can also appreciate the way some writers painstakingly lay groundwork before they really kick off the conflict of the story. Just don't take all day doing it!

At any rate, I felt like the plot was going to be predictable, which it was to a large extent. It was like one of the characters from "Waiting to Exhale" walked into "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Being in my early 30s and widowed, I did not have a personal way to relate to a woman 20 years my senior going through a mid-life crisis and careening toward self-destruction. I was elated, however, to find that one of the male characters fit closer with me, which I find oddly pleasing. This guy was a monk who thrust himself into the realm of godliness after losing his wife and unborn child in a tragic car accident. Really, to watch how he relates to others, the internal struggle he has, the aching in his heart that consumes every mitochondrion of every cell of his being struck a chord with me, and the terrifying reality of wanting, needing to love again and the risks that come along with that. Also, the main character's father died tragically when she was nine years old, and the broken journey she ends up taking in her life and the harsh reality of secrets kept are really key to this story.

I feel like I've almost gone and said too much about this book. I hope I haven't given any key information away! The ending of this book is so emotionally gripping that I was affected for days after having read it. In fact, when I first read it, I was waiting on Bud at the dentist's office and was crying so hard I was dripping tears on the pages! I had to lean my head back so I could even see the words! (For those of you who need warning, the bomb drops in Chapter 33.) As I was reading and following along all throughout the book, I was curious as to how SMK was going to tie all this up with a bow and come to a logical ending. The ending she came up with surprised me, as there were few obvious clues sprinkled about. You feel as clueless about what is going on as the main character, and the reality of it hit me so hard I had to read the chapter three times for it to really sink in. It reminds me of how, when you receive some kind of bad news, your brain goes into some sort of slow motion or shock. People have to repeat even simple things for you because your mind is just so blown by what you have heard. It was REALLY that good!

SMK doesn't give this book a Disney ending, which I love. I mean, I'd love to see all the problems resolved and have that feeling of, "Everyone's gonna be OK after all," but that is simply not true to life. Her ending was realistic and therefore satisfying.

One of the things SMK does better than anyone except Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (Stephen King goes overboard in this department and "stirs me to wrath," haha...) is her unheard-of-amazing use of imagery. I felt like I could smell the primordial ooze of the tidal estuaries and streams she describes, partly because I have experienced that in some fashion, but also because she captures all five senses in words so well. The feeling of humidity at the beach, the way fog sets into your bones in the middle of the night, the electrifying sensation of a lover's kiss on bare, expectant skin all comes through with intensity in this book, just as she did in "The Secret Life of Bees."

Bottom line: Give this book a chance -- it will devastate you by the raw emotion you will feel, and it will surprise you, too, as to which character(s) you relate the most. It's honest, realistic, and well worth the time you will invest in it. BTW, it's been made into a movie. I have mixed feelings about watching it, however. I have an outrageously overactive imagination; I just cannot imagine Hollywood replicating what was going on in my mind. The same goes with SLoB, which is coming out this week. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ THE BOOK FIRST!!! You won't be sorry you did, I promise.

OK, now back to the books...

Where Do I Even Start?!?

Jenster. S4J. HisGirl. The Liberty Bell. Independence Hall. Cheesecake Factory! Amish buggies. The aroma of horses, "etc." Homemade rootbeer. Adorable Amish children with no shoes. Scary, waxy animatronic people in a one-room schoolhouse. Delicious homemade shoo-fly pie. Praise and worship. Devotions. Laughing so hard you hope you don't pee your pants. Bags so big under your eyes from lack of sleep that you're certain you'll be charged at the airport for carrying extra luggage. Special treats planned by precious friends. Did I mention scary, waxy animatronic people?!?

I would love to give you the play-by-play for each day of the trip, but that would take more time and attention than my kids are allowing me to give my computer today, and rightly so. As usual, this Chicas of Faith trip was a blast, and it was such an unexpected adventure. The theme this year was, "Simply Following Him," and we had a very free-flowing approach to how this trip would play out. We welcomed another couple of Chicas to the fold, and dearly missed those who were unable to be there in body but were absolutely there in spirit. And even in the midst of the churning turmoil that I was going through personally, I was able to walk away with a new understanding of people and situations, along with this gem that the Lord gave me today:

"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you." -- II Peter 3:9 (NIV)

OK, God -- lesson learned.

P.S. -- IS IT 2009 YET?!?