tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-260665742024-03-14T03:11:24.327-05:00A Woman's Right To ShoesAnd other fashionable diatribes. About God. Love. Books. Shoes. Me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.comBlogger316125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-76427208060162052152016-02-08T20:54:00.001-05:002016-02-08T20:54:24.342-05:00A New Chapter<div class="s2" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">
<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">It seems like the last few blog entry’s I’ve written here all start off the same – I haven’t written in so long, etc., apologies, blah blah blah. </span><br />
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">It’s true, writing here is something I have lost both the time and</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">, </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">in a way, the passion for. There are many reason</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">s I walked away from blogging for so long</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">, but none that</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">are upbuilding or important </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">enough to share. And though writing in general is still something I love doing, there are so many other new things I love spending time on that this blog has fallen by the way side. And for a few years I have been so okay with that.</span><br />
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">But lately, our lives have taken a different course</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> than we ever foresaw</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">, and I find myself wanting to journal the journey once again. That’s what blogging was</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> all </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">about for me anyways</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> - </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">a cathartic way to pro</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">cess what was going on in my life/mind at the time. I really miss the process of putting thoughts to paper, researching scripture that pertained to the given issue, and organizing all my findings into a way that made sense for me, and hopefully others. </span><br />
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">So as we (and by “we” I mean my husband Craig, our dog Cooper - hey, he’s family too - and myself) embark on new adventures in faith, seek new opportunities for growth, both spiritually and as a family, and encounter new and unpredictable challenges, I know that blogging will probably be something I’ll take up again, if only to process my thoughts and keep some sanity. That, and also because we are moving into some decisions that will require a lot of love and support. And though lack of love and support was one of the reasons I stopped blogging in the first place, I am well aware that we cannot receive love and support from people without first asking for it, and </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">even </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">explaining why we need it. </span><br />
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">So, that all being said, if you are reading this and you know me, heck, even if you don’t know me, please keep our little family of three in prayer as we move into the next chapter in life – one that includes adopting a child or sibling group</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">. We have started the </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">process of grow</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">ing our family through adoption, with the hope that we can </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">provide love, stability, support and a familial unit to a child/children who need it. Our deepest desire is that God will use this decision as a way to further the gospel message to any and all we meet, and that includes showing a real and tangible love to a child/children who may never know it otherwise. What love has been poured out on us, we wish to pour out on a young life/lives too. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">How we’ve been adopted into the family of God, we want to adopt into our family with the same kind of love and acceptance as well. </span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">W</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">e are so excited, but </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">personally I am </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">so scared! </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I’m so scared of all the things that open up </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">my</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> heart for rejection and hurt. I’m scared of how long it will take,</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> of </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">not finding the right child or children, </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">of </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">being told we don’t qualify, </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">or worse </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">qualifying and finding out it’s beyond our financial means to follow through on. I’m scared that if it does work, I’ll be a mom!! Scared that I’ll be an awful mom, or follow in unhealthy patterns of motherhood I’ve known my whole life. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Scared that I will never know a good night’s sleep again. </span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">There is so much joy to be had through this process and </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">its</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">eventual outcome. And I know that perfect love casts out all fear – and that is the kind of love we’ve received and that we wish to share. But boy oh boy, this is the biggest step I’ve ever taken in my whole life, including marriage and salvation, </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">and I am shaking in my boots with anticipation, fear, excitement, feelings of inadequacy, and impatience daily. Oh Lord how I need Thee, every hour I need Thee!</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Yet, I am well aware of the need to press on, and not give up so early in this journey. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">My fear is weighted against the burden in my heart to save all the children, love all the children. So often</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> I go through the list of waiting children on the MN Adopt homepage, and I look at all those smiling young faces, and I am moved to tears. I pray for them, and the words inside my </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">praying </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">heart, words which tears cause to not es</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">cape my mouth, </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">cannot even break the surface of how moved I am by each one of their profiles. I want to love them all, adopt them all, help them all. I often ask myself how we’</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">ll ever be able to adopt just once. Questions arise in my mind about our ability to grow our family, not into the little pod of three or four plus dog that we envision, but into a great big bustling house of 8 or 9. I know that seems unreasonable, and I have to remember I’m not alone in this – I’ve got Craig to think about too and fortunately he’s a lot more practical minded than I am. But I can’t help myself. Every time I think of the children out there that I want to love, I find myself running the numbers to see if I can gauge how many we can afford to bring home without losing the ability to care for them all. I don’t know how God will grow our family, but I want to trust Him that He will. And yet for as much hope and longing as I have, I am so scared that in the end we won’t even get one</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> child much less the many that I envision</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">. </span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">But the </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">Lord’s plans for us are good. I know that even if we are never approved or never get </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">chosen, He</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> has a beautiful, glory giving plan for our lives, which exceeds our understanding. I trust in Him</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> (</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">oh for faith to trust in Him more!</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">) </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I must tell myself every day that I cannot be afraid of an unknown future because I serve a (very well know) God. And that knowledge, of His faithfulness and goodness in answering so many other prayers </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">will </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">buoy me above the waterline of doubt and fear. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">This is going to be an incredible journey!!</span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I hope in the weeks, months and </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">even years</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"> to come, to share more through this medi</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">um on how the process is going, and how we got there to begin with. There’s lots to share, too much for today! </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I know others have gone through the exact same thing – were their fears and hopes and dreams and doubts any different than my own? I long to know we’re not alone in this. And yet, still reeling in the aftermath of a loss of community and friendships that came out of some past choices, I am at a loss for who to reach out to in my new life/community/faith family. As with everything else in this new chapter, I know God will provide. He has already shown us that the people in our lives now love us, care about this choice along with us, and share our excitement at all the Lord will do. What a fun prospect to meet new people and touch new lives in ways unimagined.</span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;"></span></div>
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<span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">I am so excited to see where this new chapter will take us. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">The journey is just beginning and I don’t know where it will go. </span><span class="s2" style="line-height: 21.600000381469727px;">But this is my story, and I’m sticking to it.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-82487005543806668932013-12-02T14:59:00.001-06:002013-12-02T15:17:13.447-06:00The Portrait of Silence. I know I start out every post like this, but.... I don't post a lot these days. I've kind of lost my mo-jo, and my verve when it comes to writing, and I hope it's just a phase. It doesn't help that I'm genuinely happy, and don't have a lot to say. Unless you like reading about recipes I've tried, movies I've watched, and books I've read, there's not else much to share that isn't boring newlywed drabble. Even those kind of posts feel like work though, like a person being forced to talk about the weather, when they'd rather talk about anything else.<br />
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I used to find it so easy to write here. It was cathartic for me - my own kind of journaling, except the whole world got to see it. These days though the vulnerability and willingness to speak my heart that I may have felt in years past has been changed it seems, though not necessarily "for the good". Whereas before I somehow always felt safe to write what was on my mind, it was because I knew I had a safety net of many friends there to catch, love and support me. I choose not to share my heart now in the absence of some of that security. There are a few good and loyal friends that I know will always have my back. I think of them as a pyramid of love, a base of names and faces that have stood by me through thick and thin. I smile when I picture their laughing faces, whether in my head in memories, or staring back at me from wedding photos on my desk. I chuckle when I remember the hilarious good times we've had. My heart warms when I remember the feeling of safety in their amazingly wonderful hugs, and couch conversations that last for hours. Oh man, how I love you girls, you few sweet, dear friends. <br />
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But they stand alone, and overall I have seen other friendships slowly erode over the past few years. One of the by-products of that erosion is a self-awareness that causes me to guard my tongue much more now than I ever did before. I used to be a lot more transparent and open, like a tree blowing its branches in the wind. Now I tend to be guarded, hidden and quiet, and you'll find it much harder to get anything out of me. I'm a bit of a new person, a new me and this one, much unlike the old me, keeps her mouth shut. You could look at that like I'm wounded - I choose to see it as growth.<br />
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Now I must say this - please don't get me wrong! I don't cast blame for this disintegration of friendships. I don't name names, I don't cast blame, and I am doing my damndest every day to not feel any personal shame about it either. I won't blame me, but I also work every day to not blame you. Like the old REM song goes, everybody hurts, sometimes. I know I'm not alone in the world in this regard. Living with grace means that every day I try to count my blessings instead of sheep, and that's where those beautiful faces come in. It helps, and because of those disciplines, like I said, I'm genuinely happy.<br />
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But if I don't blog with much regularity, if I've lost my passion for it, if I don't have anything to say, it's because of this change in me. Every day I'm learning to take a little of the old and blend it with the new, and today this is how I'm trying. By writing again. By not throwing the baby out with the bathwater, and telling myself, I can blog with vulnerability despite the fear of being judged. I can be honest about my life, and do it because writing is something I enjoy, and transparency is something I value. Let the haters hate - they're going to anyways. I just need to be me, for the sake of being me.<br />
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And today, what that looks like, is just saying this. Nothing more than this. Just saying what I've shared above is enough to get my panties all in a bunch, and so I think it's time to leave it at that. There is a lot going on in my life that is good, there is a lot that is challenging, and there are ways God is growing me. I might share about them later. But for now, this is my story, and I'm stickin' to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-19675069688337659382013-05-31T13:24:00.001-05:002013-05-31T13:37:49.886-05:00True Confession Time - I Am A Person Of Wal-Mart: A Blog Post About Modesty.<div class="MsoNormal">
I posed a question on Facebook recently, namely “What should
I blog about?”. The very first answer I
received was from one of my guy friends, someone who I hold in the highest
esteem, and who’s kindness, love and service to his wife and family, as well as
to our country, cause me to respect him greatly. He suggested I blog about “being awesome
while remaining modest”. At first I
wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I
mean, yes, I know what it means to be modest, in the Christianese sense of the
word (hemlines that touch the floor when you stand on your knees, right??) But what about being awesome? Am I really awesome? And do people really think that?? Score!!
Thanks dude <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span>
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Now, I’m pretty sure I’m not the most modest person I can
think of (again, in the Christianese sense of the word that we can all easily
define). I was rather flattered that
someone I respect so much thought that of me, and had to ask myself, what have
I done right in this area. Whether
intentionally or unintentionally I have definitely worn some outfits that were
probably a little too revealing. And
that’s me sugar coating it for the sake of my ego. I can think of a (beloved) maxi dress, that I
wore to my new niece’s birthday last summer.
Some in-love-weight-gain meant that it was not fitting as well as it had
when I first bought it. But it was
supposed to be in the 90’s and we were going to be outside the whole time, so I
went with it anyways. I think I was
pulling that thing up to cover my chest the entire time we were there. I only pray no one saw me, but I’m sure if
they weren’t looking at me pulling it up to cover myself, they were looking at
me wishing I would. I’m embarrassed now,
and can’t go back and change it, but I haven’t worn it since. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Also, recently, I had a true People of Wal-Mart experience.
Without meaning to, I was completely immodest, and exposed a LOT more of myself
than I ever meant to, at the one place on earth where people are not afraid to
let it all hang out, quite literally.
Again, let’s blame it on the weight gain (dang it!!). I have only been able to fit into a few of my
pairs of jeans lately, and this past winter I threw on a pair of boyfriend
jeans I hadn’t worn in a very long time.
As the HH and I were leaving the house to go run a few errands, I
slipped on the ice, and fell down, landing on my bottom in the driveway, so
hard that I cried. I hate, more than
anything, falling on the ice. I feel so
clumsy and childish when I do. But I digress. After falling, I picked myself right back up,
and got in the truck, and we ran up to Wal-Mart to do some banking and grocery
shopping. HH and I walked from the
outskirts of the parking lot into the store, and once in the store, to the
bank, where I walked up to the ATM machine while HH waited in line to see a
teller. All of a sudden, I felt him come
up behind me, and wrap his coat around my shoulders, and tell me “Here honey,
wear my coat.” I pushed it off, I
actually wasn’t cold – I had on a warm sweater, and scarf, and hat, and my cute
boyfriend jeans, after all. That’s when
he told me “No, you need to wear my coat” and he leaned in and whispered “You
have a hole in the butt of your jeans”.
That’s when I turned my head around and discovered that when I fell on
the ice in the driveway, apparently my pants split right up the butt, from
waist to well, past my waist. My
underwear were exposed for the whole world to see. I truly was a Person Of Wal Mart, with the exposed
behind to prove it. Of course, I immediately
took the HH’s jacket, put it on, and was positively mortified. As soon as we got home, I threw those stupid
jeans out!! Modesty, no. Clumsiness, definitely. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now here’s the thing – in both of those cases, my intent was
never to attract attention to myself, to show off my, ummm, assets (?), or to
send a mixed message about the type of person that I am. But that’s what modesty, or lack of it, does
exactly. It’s not so much a statement
about what you’ve got (though, immodesty definitely advertises that well
enough), as much as who you think you are, and how you want the world around
you to see you. I definitely did not
want to be known to the people at my bank as “butt bearing jeans girl”, nor to
my new family as a hoochie mama in my lowcut maxi dress (just because you can’t
see my legs or ankles doesn’t make it modest).
And fortunately I don’t think anyone at the bank or Wal-Mart, except for
my adoring HH, noticed. The birthday
party, well I’m hoping they love me just the same, nah, I know they do. But the message I was communicating about
myself in both of those outfits was not that of a person who cares what other
people think of her in a respectful way.
It was the message of someone who just doesn’t care. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You see, modesty doesn’t have to just be about flaunting
your body parts as an advertisement to “come and get it boys” (spoken in my
best Moulin Rouge Nicole Kidman voice).
Being immodest can send all kinds of signals. What it never spells out though is that the
person being immodest cares enough about themself to care what other people
think of her/himself. If you’re
immodest, unfortunately the first thing I think of you is “whoah, self esteem
issues”. Sorry, I know I judge, I
do. (Eh, this post is full of awful
confessions, is it not?)<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, in thinking about modesty, how I judge it, my own
perilous struggle with it, why we should even bother with it, et all, this is
what I came up with. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Modesty, by definition means “Freedom from vanity or
boastfulness. Having or showing a moderate or humble estimate of one's merits,
importance, etc. Having or showing regard for the decencies of behavior,
speech, dress, etc. Limited or moderate in amount.” I think that pretty much sums it up well. The bible never clearly defines what modesty <i>means</i>, though it admonishes us to be
modest. 1 Timothy 2:9 warns against
showy appearance, too much jewelry, etc., “I also want the women to dress
modestly, with decency and <i>propriety</i>,
adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles, or gold or pearls or expensive
clothes.”, wrote Paul (italics mine).
From what I found, that’s the closest the Bible comes to defining the
term. Yet, our Christian culture has
regarded it, in relation to women, as covering up one’s body parts, and not
showing too much skin. Or as my old pastor, Pastor Tom, used to say “not
leading men into Death Valley” (his personal euphemism for cleavage). <o:p></o:p></div>
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But, if the secular definition is correct, you can have a
potato sack on, and have an immodest heart.
Modestly means acting and dressing with propriety, showing a humble
estimate of one’s self. Being
moderate. Not wearing neon to a funeral,
or white to someone else’s wedding.
Scripture says that Jesus “<span style="background: #FFFEFD; color: #001320; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;">being in very nature
God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own
advantage” (Philipians 2:6) He was
modest, in heart, and I’m sure always in appearance. Men had it easier even back then, with their
robes and caftans and such.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Modesty isn’t about what we wear, or fail to wear, it’s
about a heart attitude of thinking less of one’s self than what is proper. It’s a heart attitude, not a name brand. It’s the way you view yourself, in relation
to the world and the people in it, and how you act accordingly. Immodesty wasn’t my torn jeans at the
Wal-Mart – honestly, I was mortified.
Maybe it was my low cut sundress at a family gathering, and in
hindsight, I ought to be mortified and ashamed.
You can be modest and stylish, you just have to respect yourself, no
kidding. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I mean, think about it.
If the Bible says that modesty means no elaborate hairstyles, gold or
pearls or expensive clothes, then what are we to do with the fact that the
Proverbs 31 woman wore fine linen and quality clothing, and made the same
clothing for her family as well? What
about Esther and her near year of beauty treatments (ohmygawd am I
jealous!)? Does this mean I need to give
up my quest to learn hair braiding, in an effort to braid my hair Swiss Miss
style? What about the fact that I love
to score really expensive designer items at places like TJMaxx, or online? What about those splurges I’ll make once a
year or so, on an Anthropologie statement necklace or a costly new winter coat,
knowing that I’ll wear it for more than a few years? Is quality immodest? Is spending more than the thrift-shop price
on something immodest? Is pampering
oneself in an effort to just feel pretty again immodest? I seriously hope, and think, not. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you think about it, back when Paul wrote to Timothy, the
women who were prostitutes adorned themselves with <i>lots</i> of jewelry, and fancy clothes in eye-popping colors and styles
to attract the attention of men. What
they wore sent a clear and deliberate signal about who they are and what they
did/their profession. Just like the
uniform of the Hooters girls today sends a clear and deliberate message –
“I. Work. For.
Hooters. Otherwise I wouldn’t be
wearing this hideous orange belly shirt and short shorts with pantyhose.” A cop can be identified by his uniform, a
fireman by his, and back in the day, a prostitute by hers. Nowadays some of the high end prostitutes
have enviable wardrobes that are very business professional, so as to attract a
certain high end clientele. And I am not
talking about anyone who’s ever stood at that gas station on Penn and Dowling
in fishnets and hooker platform boots, trust me. In biblical times, pearls, gold, and purple
or red were as obvious a uniform as the camoflauge army fatigues of a soldier
are now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Recently, a friend of mine from high school, an earnest
Mormon, posted a link to the website that his wife buys some of her clothing
from. Though I cannot remember the name
of the store, I do remember that the word MODESTY was in its title. Imagine, in this day and age, a store that
advertises modesty! I was intrigued! After browsing their website, I realized I
was in love with their style, and their products. There were very cute outfits, that were in
line with today’s fashion trends, but much more modest. Think higher necklines, and longer hems, but
cute ModCloth or Anthro styles to begin with.
Let me tell you, if anyone has this whole modesty thing down, it’s those
darn LDS girls! They are so cute!!
Seriously, those gals from Utah, the cute stay at home moms, with their
perfectly highlighted blond long bobs, and graphic designer/work from home
careers really got it going on, and know how to do stylish modestly. In their religion, and culture, modesty is a
way of life. It’s a heart attitude, and
never a second thought, and they’ve learned to do it well. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess when I look back at my own struggles with modesty, I
would have to say, the real turning point came as I was considering what was
best for my career. Though I always
tried to make sure I was dressing modestly, the actions were there but not
always the heart attitude. I did it
because it was what was “right” in Christian culture, not because of how I
respected myself or others. But as I’ve
grown older, and have looked to advance my career beyond an administrative
level, I’ve realized that the old adage of “Dress for the job you want, not the
one you have” is true. So I’ve started
thinking about what the women who were in leadership, that I admired and wanted
to be like, wore. Besides being stylish,
professional and on trend without being a head to toe trend statement, the one
unifying factor amongst them was that they all dressed modestly. Even if they weren’t professing Christians,
they understood the value of modesty in the business place. Their message was “I’m current, I’m polished,
I’m professional, and by golly, I sure as heck do respect myself, so you should
respect me too.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also realized that love has made me modest, or at least
falling in love has. I attribute this to
the fact that for the first time in my life, I stopped trying to dress for a
man, and started dressing for me, because that was who the man I loved wanted
to be around. Gone were the times I’d
wear something to be noticed (even if it wasn’t skin bearing, and was <b><i>technically</i></b>
modest, that heart attitude of “notice me” wasn’t modest at all). I was thrilled with the fact that my HH loved
me best in jeans and a tee shirt, or sweats and a tee shirt, clothing that he
said made me look like I was comfortable.
He loved me at ease, and relaxed, content and not tugging and pulling
and yanking at my clothing. Not all
gussied up and trying. That, is the
heart attitude of a man who wants you to be happy! When I asked him, one time, about whether or
not he preferred how I looked when I dressed up for work, or for date night,
his reply surprised me. “No”, he said,
“I prefer it when you look like you’re ready to sit on the sofa, and read a
book, because that’s what makes you happy”.
For my HH, modesty was equated with comfort. But not just being comfortable in jeans and a
tee shirt – being comfortable in one’s own skin. Being in the frame of mind that wasn’t out to
impress anyone, or draw attention to one’s self. It was a frame of mind, a heart attitude, was
happy and content with who they were, and had stopped trying to draw attention
through appearance. I’m not saying it
was frumpy, or messy. It was the quiet
peace of mind of relaxing, and enjoying life’s simple comforts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess as I’ve grown older I’ve become a more modest
person. But that transition hasn’t grown
out of a dedication to pleasing the surrounding Christian culture, but out of a
spiritual and personal maturity. With
wanting to be professional, and be taken seriously, I’ve become more modest, or
moderate, in my choices at work. From
experiencing love, and the desire of someone else to see me happy, content and
at peace, I’ve stopped trying to impress a certain man through my dress. Without turning towards frumpiness, because I
believe it’s totally possible to be stylish and modest simultaneously, I’ve
made some personal strides in this area.
Am I saying I’ve got it all figured out?
Well, as a certain winter’s day at Wal-Mart proved, far from it. But if anything, I have changed my thinking
about how I want people to view me, and what it takes to get the right kind of
attention. I have truly come to believe
that in this world, you are perceived to be what you wear, and who I want to be
at 27 is quite different than it was at 17 or even 27. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, what is anyone supposed to take out of this post? That’s a great question, and as I’ve been
writing it, one I’ve asked myself multiple times. There was a request that I write about
modesty. And if I didn’t think it a
worthwhile topic, I wouldn’t comply.
But, in this world where so many mixed signals are sent, and so many
role models are offered for young women to emulate, ranging from the vampy to
the faux-intellectual (read, hipsters), and everywhere in between, maybe it’s
worth saying at least SOMETHING on the topic.
I can only share from personal experience, but if sharing my thoughts on
this subject opens up the mind of one young women about how she views herself,
and what image she presents to the outside world, then mission
accomplished. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet in writing this, I want to make one thing clear –
let it be said that I always want to be modest about being modest. Until my friend called me modest the other
day, I would never have attributed that characteristic to myself. If modesty is a freedom from vanity or
boastfulness, then I will always try to be modest in the area of modesty. That heart attitude is one I will always wish
to cultivate, in the spirit of Paul, when writing to the Romans. In the fourteenth chapter he shares some of my favorite thoughts about how to approach interpsonal relationships, including how (loosely interpreted) to think about the issue of modesty. </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Rom 14:7-19 For
none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we
die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we
live or die, we belong to the Lord. ….
Therefore, let us stop passing judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any
stumbling block or obstacle in the way of a brother or sister. … For the
kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness,
peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, because anyone who serves Christ in this way
is pleasing to God and receives human approval. Let us therefore make every
effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification. </blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s my story, and
I’m stickin’ to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-41128609452812178642013-05-28T09:39:00.001-05:002013-05-28T09:40:23.496-05:00Ten Thoughts For Tuesday<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm gonna be better about this blogging thing than I have been in the past year, I swear! And on that note, here are ten thoughts that are running through my head this Tuesday:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. I cannot stop thinking about this poem:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><u>What Was Told, That</u></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">by Jalal al-Din Rumi </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What was said to the rose that made it open was said</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
to me here in my chest.</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What was was told the cypress that made it strong</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
and straight, what was</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
sugarcane sweet, whatever</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">was said to the inhabitants of the town of Cigil in </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Turkestan that makes them</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
like a human face, that is</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
language, that's happening here.</div>
</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
chewing a piece of sugarcane,
in love with the one to whom every <i>that</i> belongs!</div>
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />2. So excited for my handsome hubby, as he starts book club this week. One of the reasons I fell in love with him is because he is a voracious reader. Our children are gonna be wicked smart! He and his book club guys are reading C.S. Lewis' <u>The Screwtape Letters</u>. Anyone else read this? Any thoughts on it? Seriously, I need to get into a book club! Grrr.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">3. Spring is here (well, a very Seattle-esque kind of spring, if you will). That means dresses, and skirts. I love dressing up, and feel so much better about myself when I do. Although in the last two years I have become much more accustomed to just being comfy in jeans and a tee shirt, and I like that too, but in an entirely different way, with different gratification. Today I look very nice in a royal blue pencil skirt, a coral cowl neck, dotted shell, and a tan leather belt and pumps. I have already received two compliments from coworkers, who are probably surprised after I came in on Friday in yoga pants, a tee shirt, and flip flops. I hope the HH (handsome hubby) appreciates the look. I remember so many times, in my single days, thinking I was wasting a pretty outfit on no one at all, and now that I have someone, he prefers me in sweatpants and a tee-shirt (true story!). Even still, I know he loves me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcA1tACyJidDgXCqFX7m3OPct-THTk6Bkawb2wX3OLnCnuFXmMjGRIsqyyLvhZ8GHvo8HcfUbKmJYqTgNaH-dsKJ7_Whol0k0PA0MKGEbYuQxxXBveGI7XwD2Pm4lcvNrGb5kf/s1600/office.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcA1tACyJidDgXCqFX7m3OPct-THTk6Bkawb2wX3OLnCnuFXmMjGRIsqyyLvhZ8GHvo8HcfUbKmJYqTgNaH-dsKJ7_Whol0k0PA0MKGEbYuQxxXBveGI7XwD2Pm4lcvNrGb5kf/s320/office.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Erin Hannon (Ellie Kemper's character on the now ended The Office) is my new fashion inspiration. I think I'm going to Google as many of her outfits as I can. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. Was anyone else seriously let down by the quality of the new Arrested Development episodes? Bummer!! I ended up playing Draw Something during a few of them (the George Sr. episodes mostly) because they were so not up to par. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">6. "<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness." - Charles Spurgeon. As I contemplate my desire to have a baby, and the inexplicable pressure I feel (sometimes self generated, admittedly), to have one sooner rather than later, I need to remind myself to appreciate, enjoy, and be grateful for what I have, instead of focusing on what I want. This is tough. Now that the wedding is over, I am left with this "what now?" feeling. The fact that we live in a culture that sets brides up for that particular failure, all too easily, only makes me sad and angry. It is time to rejoice, in the fullness of love poured into our hearts by the Creator Himself, and out to the ones we love, and the world around us, instead of searching for the next big thing to fill my life. Which in my case, is the (only natural) desire to have a baby. Of course, the fact that I'm not getting any younger either, approaching my 38th birthday in a week and a half, only exacerbates things. Amidst all these valid feelings, and desires, I have to honestly ask myself, "Would I be happy with my life, if I never had children?" I have to evaluate the sincerity and motivations behind my answer, and deal with myself honestly too. I keep telling myself, it is not how much I have, but how much I enjoy, that makes my happiness, and I have a lot in life to enjoy. And yet, knowing this truth, I still find myself falling prey to the all consuming thought of pregnancy, on a daily basis. I'm sure there will be more on this subject later, but for now, it is a daily discipline to rejoice in what I do have, and lay aside anything distracting me from that contentment.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKh0uFeyQ8Hn4hTdtenm2fq7P5UGCEqlG8xynDM6xVDkApmUop_3LaLQgFPlHk6esCTvLlznuGckvER2d0OKRLnxf9d_l4HjT5QevrddiVInFNhDQR-pM7R4SqMp6sc2FzzHv/s1600/485509_570466702974462_2048276499_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKh0uFeyQ8Hn4hTdtenm2fq7P5UGCEqlG8xynDM6xVDkApmUop_3LaLQgFPlHk6esCTvLlznuGckvER2d0OKRLnxf9d_l4HjT5QevrddiVInFNhDQR-pM7R4SqMp6sc2FzzHv/s320/485509_570466702974462_2048276499_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">7. Speaking of birthdays (I did somewhere, right?), now that I'm a married woman, I get to share my birthday (or close to it, only two days apart) with one of my darling new nieces. RJ :) I have told my HH for sometime that not only am I super blessed to marry him, but into his family as well. I now have an awesome brother and sister in law, two darling nieces and one adorably rascally nephew! They all are so precious, and I couldn't love the five of them more! They have welcomed me, and we get along in that way that people meant to be friends would, not just as those thrown together by new family ties. The kiddos are precious, and each one unique in their own personalities, which makes me love them each for so many individual reasons. RJ, who was born 2 days and many years after me, is spunky, sassy, sweet, cuddly, and, like me, kind of clumsy. She signs (ASL), like a pro, loves pickles, rolls her eyes in a most exaggerated way, and does not take crap from her younger brother. Her adorable toddler talk has stolen my heart, and I can't wait to celebrate her upcoming birthday with her, and sneak a few snuggles in there too. Happy Almost Birthday to my new niece, RJ. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xxdPEp30GU_bbJNQUGesytzD7aPv4WG5_oqlqM1ePOdgx24dWcYzlhcMPJeQpfeEDJW-e4RfW9hbbfQyvRYLqMOhyphenhyphennlsVKmZPTBhQd_Ftmdu33XabNdYZ1FeSzPTaLPTthUt/s1600/d3f7de380df977e3c26e9c2d3087175a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7xxdPEp30GU_bbJNQUGesytzD7aPv4WG5_oqlqM1ePOdgx24dWcYzlhcMPJeQpfeEDJW-e4RfW9hbbfQyvRYLqMOhyphenhyphennlsVKmZPTBhQd_Ftmdu33XabNdYZ1FeSzPTaLPTthUt/s320/d3f7de380df977e3c26e9c2d3087175a.jpg" width="236" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">8. Now that the honeymoon is over - I want to go on a trip. I want to go to Boston, and San Francisco, and Montana, and Italy, and Scotland, and just take a road trip. Though at $4.19 a gallon, for gas, I doubt that is happening. This year, I doubt that we'll be going anywhere, and that makes me a little sad. I sometimes wonder how I can ignite the travel bug in my HH, as he's much more of a homebody than I am. Hmmm, any suggestions folks? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">9. To the person I follow on Pinterest, who keeps posting photos of winterscapes and snowflakes: If you do not knock this $#!& off soon, I will find you, and I will end you. Seriously, half my Pinterest this morning was photos of snowy white fields, tress covered in snow, and up close snowflakes. I know you, you live in Minnesota, the same as I do. Are you on freaking crack? Quit that #$%@ OUT!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">10. I want to learn to braid. To French braid, and Fishtail braid specifically. Am looking for people to practice on. Please let me know if you want to come over and sit in front of me and be my guinea pig for a while. Serious.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Well, that's it for this Tuesday. I got no sleep last night, so I'm a little crabby and finding it hard to focus. Our crazy neighbor was banging on the wall last night because my HH was snoring too loudly. Seriously woman?!?!?! He sleeps through your knocking, but I, halfway asleep due to said snoring, do not. Do you think your knocking on our walls at midnight helps? You have no idea what a truly loud, or inconsiderate, neighbor sounds like. Trust me, I lived in that fourplex. I know. YOU, do not. Thus, I think it might be time to go hit up the Nespresso machine in the breakroom and make myself a quad shot almond milk latte. Serious. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-6429759338938817022013-05-24T15:51:00.001-05:002013-05-24T15:51:24.776-05:00New Lessons & New Promises As A Newlywed. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your
own understanding; In all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths
straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That verse is repeating itself over and over in my heart
today. I love it when that happens. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s a good verse, for any day, in any situation. It’s kind of an Awana’s verses, one of those
fundamental truths you memorize right away in life. Today I’m glad it’s on repeat in my mind and
heart – today I need it. My life is so
good, and we’re so blessed. But today, my
sweet hubby found out he is facing some strong challenges at work. And now, for the first time in our (brief)
married life, I’m getting a taste of what it’s like to love someone so much
that your heart breaks for them, and you grieve with their grief. I am powerless, as I watch this man I love go
through a challenging situation, and that in itself is hard, so therefore, the
verse. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love my husband.
So, so, so much more than I ever imagined I would love any man. I’m surprised by how much God has transformed
my heart from a curmudgeony old crankster (think Carl in Up), to a soft,
pliable and caring thing of beauty. I
credit Him, for giving me him, the one who I love enough to change and grow
for. I guess in this kind of love, I’m
discovering so much about the true depths and nuances of God’s own love for
us. That is the kind of gift that really
glorifies the Giver, and so happily all the credit goes to Him. The complexities of a love so grand, well, I
guess that’s part of its beauty really. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Really though, I’m just glad, that as two people now married
to each other, we really like one another as well. We’re best friends - picture two little kids,
holding hands, skipping down the middle of a suburban street, the girl in a
little red gingham dress, and the boy in overalls. That’s us. And we’re really just fond of one
another, and enjoy the other person’s company, and get along tremendously. I hear the horror stories, of fights over
mundane things, of separate bedrooms, and sarcastic, cutting comments, and I
cringe, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I think I know, somewhere deep inside, though, that that will never be
us. We’ve both endured the broken
marriages of parent’s we love, and have learned so much from. Waiting till later in life to get married has
enabled us to know all the things we don’t want to do, and to be able to commit
to fulfilling those promises. There’s
the chance that the shoe might drop, but I really don’t think it ever will, and
I look forward to a life spent with someone I just really like, and love. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So to see him hurting today, truly hurts me deeply too. I
know God is good, and I trust in Him and His faithfulness. I cling to this verse, from Isaiah, a promise
He sweetly gave me to years ago, which I claim now for my marriage, a most
sacred thing: <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my
ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow come down from
heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud
and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so
is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but
will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy and be led forth in
peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the
trees of the field will clap their hands.
Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper, and instead of briers
the myrtle will grow. This will be for the LORD's renown, for an everlasting
sign, that will endure forever." Isaiah 55:-13</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that through any challenges, we will be able to face
it, in the light of God’s unfailing goodness and His sacred promises for our
wellbeing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, till now, I have lived a life believing in His
promises, and trusting them only for myself.
Now there is someone other than myself, who I love more than myself
now. And trusting in God’s promises not
just for me, but for that person too, is a harder lesson to learn. I’ve always known I can go through any fire,
and be strong; any trial, and come out a better woman, tough, fierce and
emboldened. But to believe, and cling
to, God’s promises for someone I love as much as him, well that’s a tougher leap
to take. I cried when we got the news
about this challenge he’s facing at work, and I can’t imagine how I’ll ever
hold up as he faces other challenges in life. I just want everything to be perfect for him,
and to work out flawlessly to his advantage.
Yet, someone reminded me today that maybe this challenge will be a
catalyst for growth in him, and THAT will be good. I want my husband to grow, and to be raised up
as a sterling man of God. I guess that
kind of growth comes through trial by fire, the refiners fire more like it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, thinking of the other challenges that face him now, and
of the tough times he may face ahead, I’m mildly comforted (let’s be honest
here, it’s still all sinking in), in thinking of God’s promises in view of
another person. My faith has now grown
in a new way. I claim to promises not
just for me anymore, but for us, the new family unit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That thought alone – wow, we’re a family unit – makes me
remember that His ways are not our ways, and who can know the Lord? Bah!! He is GOOD!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-60818761917236358482013-05-20T14:16:00.004-05:002013-05-20T14:16:56.366-05:00Wedded BlissI know that probably many former readers of this blog have dropped off, discouraged by the fact that I never seem to write anymore. I apologize. I still, always, have a lot to say, and even as I start this post I can think of book reviews, and musings on social injustices, and random thoughts about something I saw on tv, or read in National Geographic, and contemplations on the nuances of relationships - all things I want to write about and have plenty to say about. <br />
<br />
Please know that I don't neglect blogging because I've stopped caring, and have nothing more to say. I just don't have the patience to get it all out, arrange and organize so many thoughts, and make it coherent and interesting, throw in some pictures and hit post. I envy people who do have that time. I hope someday again that will be me. Hopefully sooner rather than later. <br />
<br />
Till then - know that life is great. I got married!!! I met the "one", and we did it. We tied the knot. After two wonderful years together, and much more joy than I'll ever deserve. We stood in front of family and friends and I wore a big old white dress, and he was in a suit, looking so handsome. And now we call each other "hubby" and "wifey" and nothing feels different, and yet it all still seems so surreal. Like I'm floating outside my body, watching someone else's much happier, much more conventional life. I will never be a crazy cat lady again. <br />
<br />
Anyways, because I want to put these photos somewhere, and share them somehow, but don't necessarily want to go the Facebook route, here they are. A few snapped pics of our wedding day, and the man I am deeply and madly in love with, and who patiently tolerates and appreciates me daily. <br />
<br />
I am incredibly happy, and hope the same happiness for everyone on earth. If only we all were so happy, how would this world be different?<br />
<br />
And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.<br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-68019020694195663212012-09-27T13:14:00.001-05:002012-09-27T13:14:31.934-05:00Tidings Of Comfort And Joy. And A Wedding. In September.<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">It's been a rough few days in the life of me. Learning lessons days. So when the She & Him version of
"Blue Christmas" came on this morning, it’s no wonder I lost it, and
started bawling my eyes out. I had just pulled it all together, and was
wiping away the winding rivers of mascara coal streaking down my cheeks when
the next song hit and it was Dianna Krall singing "Count Your Blessings
Instead Of Sheep". Baaaaaaawwwww!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Maybe if Christmas
was here already I'd feel a little better. I know Christmas is a very
depressing time for a lot of people, but I could never imagine being sad during
the best time of the year. Goooo empathy!!! Twinkling lights in the trees, snow
glistening on the ground, the smell of pine and winter berries in the air,
carols humming in the background everywhere you go. All those lights.
I was made to live in Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yet, even today,
in this gorgeous fall weather, with regally colored trees turning all around
me, I'm trying to tell myself to buck up buttercup and smile. But you
see, I'm having to be an adult, and a mature one at that. And the pangs
of finally growing up, at almost 40, are more than I want to deal with some
days. I'm a great big grown up womanly Peter Pan minus the elf ears and
pointy shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I guess you could
say it started a few months ago when I made the most adult decision of my life
and my fiancé and I moved in together. It was an adult decision at that
time because of the feedback I received from concerned friends, regarding the
religious and moral consequences of that decision. Coming to terms with
what I believed and having the gumption to stand up for it was a pretty big
move for me and for the first time in my life I felt like my faith was really put
to the test, as were my beliefs. And though we have our critics still, I've learned to deal with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">With that decision
came the responsibility of having to actually run a household too. Within
weeks I found out just what mom's and wives all around the world face on a
daily basis - I was now keeping house for someone other than myself and it was
a lot more work and sacrifice than I anticipated. Gone were the days of
clothes everywhere (kitchen table chairs make good staging areas for morning
outfits). Gone were the days of eating like a bachelorette (ice cream is
a food group, and one meant specifically for breakfast and the occasional dinner).
Gone were the days of doing whatever I wanted, no matter what the
consequences were, because I had to think of my darling fiancé, and what was
also best for him. I’ve grown up a lot in the last few months, learning
to put my own bad habits aside and be the wifely woman I was meant to be. It’s not easy – I love cooking, hate cleaning,
have more shoes than C’s whole family combined and am okay with dropping
clothes in the middle of a hallway. He, on the other hand, is a master salad and omelet
maker, but may not be the tidiest in the kitchen (see how nicely I said that?),
takes three minutes tops to get ready in the mornings, and is never grumpy. Life, as they say, goes on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">As the months
pass, we’re finding ways to work with each other, and to let love rule. Above all else, let love rule. I’ll say it again – LET. LOVE.
RULE. And so things have gotten a
little easier, and as May draws closer we’ve been having a lot of fun planning
our wedding. We hit a few snags securing
a venue, but last weekend we found the perfect place to get married, and signed
the contract. Really, all could not be
going smoother with wedding plans, and we’re both really excited to have a
super fun fantastical awesomeness wedding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Then yesterday hit – and things changed significantly for me at
work. SIGNIFICANTLY. I still have a job, and I still have a job I
love. I just have a job that I love that
pays about 1/3 less than it did till now.
And with these significant changes, so came a huge change in our new household budget. And with those
changes, all of a sudden, gone are my dreams and plans for a beautiful, unique,
bohemian, romantic, slightly steampunk wedding.
In the commitment we’ve made to incur no debt in getting married, we’ve
decided to pay for the wedding out of our own pockets with whatever we can save
between now and May. Based on these recent
work changes, that should come out to be about $29. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">And that, my friends, is the reason I’m bawling my eyes out at
Christmas songs this morning. Because I
am really struggling with the feelings of materialistic want, and the
subsequent feelings of guilt, that come from wanting a big, beautiful
wedding. Something big, and dreamy, and
completely photogenic and off-the-charts. But in the big scheme of things, something slightly unrealistic and unnecessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Last night, as Craig and I were just lying there, vying for the
same pillow, in the quiet fall night air, he asked me about the
wedding. I think we both knew the news
was too new, too raw, to approach in the light of the living room, where we
would be forced to talk about it and deal with it like big people do. Just like you don’t say the word cancer in a
country song, my fiancé has learned me well enough to know you don’t say the
words “scale back” or “elope” unless you’re in the dark, about to fall asleep with a fort wall of pillows between you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I put on my best optimistic voice, swallowing back any tears and
told him it just meant that we’d have to make some pretty big changes to what
we were planning. I’d have to find
another dress, and we'd have to look at another photographer, and another deejay, and other flowers,
and we’d be eating Dickeys instead of a fancy caterer and what did he think of people having to stand during the ceremony instead of sitting? And there in the quiet dark, he said the
words that really just cut to my heart like a knife of truth.
He said it doesn’t matter to him what kind of wedding we have. He just wants to be married to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sorry, I’m about to lose it again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Here I spent the whole night lying awake, feeling sorry for
myself, because I didn’t know how I, the keeper of the books, the cleaner of
the kitchen, was going to make everything work out alright. And all he’s been thinking is that he loves
me and wants me to be his wife. Now granted, there’s definitely a
part of me that pops up and says “It’s easy to focus on love when you’re not
looking at the bills piling up or trying to find a way to feed 152 guests”. But you know what? I hate that part of me. I really like the love-focused part, and that’s
the part that C brings out in me. The
part that remembers to let love rule. He
lets love rule. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">So this morning, I woke up, and hurried to make our smoothies, and
I rushed out the door, and the minute I sat down at work I started to feel
sorry for myself again, and worry about how I’m going to pull off this miracle
wedding. Then I remembered his voice,
repeating to me those words “I just want to be married to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">And the more I thought about it, and prayed about it, I realized,
I just want to be married to him too. That’s
all I want in this life, to be Mrs. J, and to be really good to him day in and
day out. To bless him as much as he
blesses me every day. To honor the God
who created us by letting love rule and to take the love we have and share it with a world without love. And
though I want a big, elaborate, beautiful wedding, I realized this morning I
want it for all the wrong reasons. When I
stopped to pray about why I really want an impressive, beautiful wedding, the
Lord reminded me it’s not for the memories we’ll carry with us throughout the
years – those are made every day as we laugh, and love and live together. It’s not for the joyous experience of that
day’s celebration either – since I know that the feelings of joy I desire for
us and our guests are not created by really nice centerpieces but by the
feeling of love and joy in the air, love and joy that we create and radiate. I realized, for the first time since he
proposed, that I want a gorgeous, creative, unique wedding not for C & I,
but for the people who I can picture gossiping about it afterwards, deconstructing
it piece by piece. I can see their faces in my mind even as I type this and I
sort of wish I could just punch them. Stupid
faces. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">These are the people who, when they got engaged, went around
flaunting their ring, hand extended for all to admire. The people who, at their own weddings, showed
no hospitality to me, as a “welcome guest”, but who’s tight lipped smiles made
me realize I was only there as a matter of etiquette, not friendship. The people who, let’s face it, I’m not really
even friends with anyways. I want a
dream wedding to hush those critics, and to ensure that I don’t fall prey to
their overly critical comments after the fact.
To be sure that they could never have one negative thing to say about
how things were done at my wedding. The
true irony of the matter is this though – Those people aren’t even on the guest
list anyways. I’ve never imagined
inviting them, preferring to give their spot to the people in my life
I do care about. And whether they were
there, or just stalking our pictures on Facebook, I know deep down that they
will have their trite little comments no matter what I do. I’m sure my current living situation is just
the “I told you so” they’ve been waiting for.
I told these people “so long” a long time ago, knowing that
nothing I do will ever please them. So
why am I caught up in trying now? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">As I stopped to pray about it this morning, the thought reoccurred
to me “Things don’t matter – people do.”
Let. Love. Rule. Find
a way to love these people, but realize that I don’t need to stress myself out
trying to impress them. Oh the pitfalls of
the modern American woman. Compare,
compare, compare. I need to know that the day is
about love, shared between a man and a woman, and with everyone else in their
life, as it is given to them by their Creator, not about table overlays and
customized wedding favors and who's examining them or talking about them afterwards. How freeing
this realization was. And just think, it
was only a few hours ago I was repeating Philippians 4:6 & 7 to myself like
a mantra, over and over again. I think
it was the Thanksgiving part (in combination with another friend’s Facebook
post this morning about the transforming power of gratitude) that did it. I feel like a weight has lifted, I feel so
much lighter. And relieved, and at
peace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I know that we will get married.
In 2013. And though I know I have
my work cut out for me, with a lot of challenges ahead, like I said it’s lesson
learning time, and I’m growing up. It’s
only sad that it’s taken 30-some years to happen. When someone asked me recently, in light of
our decision to live together, how my relationship with C makes me a better
Christian, I said that I’m learning so much through it, growing so much through
it, that it can’t not make me a better person and Christ follower. There’s been a lot of lesson learning days
lately. There’s a lifetime full of them
ahead - today was just one of them. But I get to walk on this road
with a man who’s only want right now is to marry me, and who teaches me, through
his own example, daily, what it means to love.
He shows me God’s love every day.
He lets love rule. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I guess in light of that, I really have no reason to be sad.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> I'm sure this will be a struggle that rears it's ugly head many a time before we walk down the aisle. But I know I can always look back to this moment, and be thankful I found out earlier rather than later what is important on our wedding day. For now, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I should wipe up my mascara and go listen to
some jolly Christmas music now.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Something sparkly and upbeat.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">
</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Maybe some Glee. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And count my
blessings instead of sheep. And that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-21388518124439434172012-09-19T14:50:00.001-05:002012-09-19T14:50:40.645-05:00Domestic BlissI haven't blogged in a while, and I apologize to you few readers who are still faithfully following me. I guess you could say I'm lazy, but in all honesty, I'm busy, and I haven't had much to say really, so there's that. Mostly just that I haven't had anything to say. Silence is becoming something I'm increasingly comfortable with.<br />
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But life is good. I'm planning a wedding (my own), and it is a full time job I'm finding out. I'm working more than full time, at a job that I love, with a small little office of characters. My current boss (he's retiring next year) is the nicest person I've ever worked for, and I just enjoy our interactions every day. This is a huge relief coming off the heels of hell at Onesta, and a boss-lady who would literally make me cry with her demeaning comments, off-the-clock demands, and split personalities. They are each other's antithesis in every possible way. I also work with two very young women, who make me feel older than I am, and than I've ever felt before. They are both in their early twenties, and though I'm used to interacting with youth group girls that age, to see people so young in the work force is eye opening, and feels rather out of place. The generational differences between us are also both amusing and slightly disconcerting. When did I turn into this stuffy, proper, older woman? I used to be cool, I swear!!<br />
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In any case, life is grand. Life at home is grand as well, and I am more in love with my sweet fiance today than I was five months ago when he proposed. Every day just a little bit more. I am settled into domesticity like a fat old cat, content, quiet, napping the warm days away. Last night I was sick with a cold, and he let me lay on the sofa and read as he made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. Watching him in there with his handsome beard, cheerfully working away, the smells of spicy taco meat drifting my way, as I laid curled up with a blanket and some tea, literally filled my heart to overflowing. This is what joy is - sweet, domestic joy.<br />
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As the days tick away, we are moving closer to our wedding date. The fear of making sure everything is as perfect on that day as it is in my head keeps the timeline of a date fast approaching very surreal. I wish I had a better grip on reality when it comes to gauging what seven months away is. But by the time all is said and done we'll have been engaged for just over a year. And though there are those have voiced their wish that we'd just get married already so we can stop "living in sin", I wouldn't wish a rushed engagement on anyone! Planning takes so much time in the research of each factor involved. Every day I'm working a little more at it, researching, making calls, comparing, putting everything into a speadsheet, into inspiration boards, into a budget. Saving, saving, more saving. Always saving. <br />
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I can't wait till we are married though, if for these two reasons only: 1. We can finally get a dog. I want a dog so bad! Something that will be ours, together, and a shared joy, and that sweet unconditional, sloppy love of a dog. Something to dote on, besides C, which I'm sure he'll appreciate. 2. The other reason I really just want to get married already is so we can have a honeymoon. As always, I have wanderlust. Somethings might never change. And though I get to travel for work this year and next, it's never the same. I want to zipline through the jungles of Costa Rica. I want to meander the vineyards of Napa. I want to lounge in a mountain facing hot tub in Montana. I want to go somewhere and just swoon at the scenery and eat somewhere I've never eaten before, and walk on a street that looks like it's out of an old Capra film. I have romantic travelitis, and only seven months before a good excuse for it. I get to go on a honeymoon. I'm gonna be a married lady.<br />
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Sadie, Sadie. Sigh.<br />
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In any case, this is not that exciting of a post. It's nothing special. But yet, it's kind of everything special for me right now. It's everything that is sweet and wonderful in my ordinary daily life, and I feel like this is the me I've always wanted to be. Content, quiet, and full of undeserved joy. Thanks to the One who gave it to me. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-2431189416001820662012-06-20T08:21:00.001-05:002012-06-20T08:22:34.761-05:00C, A Preacher, A Dress And A Little Bit Of JoyA dear friend of mine got married this past weekend, and though her wedding wasn't extravagant, it was beautiful, joyous, heartwarming and God-honoring. I rememeber thinking, during the worship part of her ceremony, "I'm home. I'm home." In that moment, in that church, with those people, and pouring my heart out to God, the God that loves me as His bride, and the God that brought my friend the bride her beloved husband, I knew that my heart was home, where it belonged. And all this at a wedding!<br />
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I'll be planning my own wedding soon, and I hope, beyond hope, that at least one life is touched this way on the day my fiance and I get to share our love with the friends and family we cherish. I know we may disagree on how much worship is too much worship at a wedding, or how preachy should the preacher get. But at the end of the day, if one life can walk away filled with joy, at seeing love incarnate between two people, who have first known love incarnate through their Savior, then we'll have done our jobs. Well, I'll have done my job, because his is basically just Get Us To The Honeymoon!!<br />
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We struggle a little bit, he and I, in how to express our faith during this occasion. I come from the FBC tradition of outright evangelism, and strong public expression. C comes from a more reserved, private tradition, wherein your faith is something you share upon invitation, and with a good helping of respect for the diversity of other's beliefs. I worry about this polarization of our beliefs when it comes to the kind of service we will have. I desire a service in which two or three Protestant hymns are sung, and the unity sand is poured, and a blessing is given under a chuppah. Eclectic, yes, but faith inspired. I think C wouldn't mind the five minute "Do you? Yeah I do." version. I know that all I really need is this man, a preacher and a dress, but I sincerely hope we'll find a way to meet in the middle on all the other little details. No matter what we decide, however, when I think about marrying this man who balances me out so well the thought fills my heart with joy. Joy at the thought of watching him watch me walk down the aisle, giving him heart and life publicly and sealing it all with a kiss. <br />
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And joy is the one thing I want this day to be about. Yes, it's a celebration, and yes, it's about love, but joy is the manifestation of that love in our hearts, that makes them flutter, and leap and pop, for the emotional outpouring we feel of celebrating all that darned love. When I picture my wedding, I picture looking out from the dance floor, twirling and being spun around (by a quite reluctant dancing groom), and seeing every face in the house grinning. Not just smiling, but grinning. Smiling is what you do when you know the camera is near. Grinning is the look your face makes when your heart just can't hold it all in anymore, a second cousin to laughing if you will. <br />
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When I think about things that I have to figure out, like the venue, the decorations, colors (oh, so many colors to think about), the dinner, the dessert, the dancing, the wine, the favors, the kids, the parents, the EVERYTHING, the only thing I keep coming back to is this: what will bring our guests the most joy? What is going to inspire their hearts to recognize the love that this man and I have for each other, because God first loved us, and share in that love so directly that it makes their faces grin? What is going to bring all involved joy? Oh yes, I want to make C proud. And show off my personal style, and DIY abilities. And I want to make sure everyone has fun, we don't spend too much money and all six parents and multiple grandparents are satisfied. But mostly, I think of the faces of my dear friends, and I want to look around and know that they have felt the same way I felt the other day at my dear friends wedding. Joy - it's what a wedding should be about. <br />
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So, as I embark on trying to figure out how to take one quarter of the budget of the average American wedding and turn it into something special, I need to remind myself that joy is something we can all have for free. It's the feeling in your heart when you know you are home. It's the feeling in your heart when you see two people so madly in love that they can only grin at each other stupidly, and you know that you love them so much too that you can have nothing but joy for them. In the end, all I really need is this man, a preacher and a dress. But I really hope our wedding can be so much more than that both for us, and the people around us. I hope it can be an occasion of joy, to be remembered for years. Something that brings other's closer to God, more covered in the shadow of His love, and more filled with the joy that they too are loved by Him, and by us. <br />
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In the end, that joy is all I really need. And that's my story, and I'm stickin to it.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-69046283564434746072012-04-20T16:21:00.001-05:002012-04-20T16:21:32.279-05:00I'm Engaged!!!<div>
What more needs to be said other than - he asked, I said yes!!!</div>
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Yep, as of Monday I am now <em>officially</em> a fiance to the best man I know. We're getting married, and I couldn't be more excited to spend the rest of my life with this amazing man. His patience, kindness, humor and love are just a few of the qualities that make me want to be his wife and little woman. </div>
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So, ring pics to come - we still have to go shopping for one. Being the intelligent man that he is, he decided I should pick it out, versus him buying something I wasn't crazy about. What he doesn't know is that I would have loved whatever he chose, but I'll love the one we choose together even more. This Saturday is the big day, and I plan on dragging him around till we find the perfect one. </div>
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Speaking of rings, I think I'm learning just what a hippie non-traditionalist I am. I am in love with a certain style, and a certain stone, and a certain precious metal and none of it is the traditional white gold or platinum set diamond that is everywhere you look. What's more, I am highly skeptical that I will find this magical ring of mystery in any of the traditional places, like Wedding Day Diamonds or Kay or even higher end Shane Co. I have, however, found it on Etsy, a few times over, and so want us to order it from there, but am afraid that the minute I say "Hey honey, let's order the ring from this online craft bazaar" he's gonna run screaming the other way at my crunchy gal ways. Although, if he hasn't figured it out by now...</div>
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<br />So, my question to you all is this: Yes, I understand that it's okay to be a non-traditionalist when it comes to your wedding, and I understand that it's up to the couple to decide what is "right" for them. But is buying your engagement ring on Etsy taking it a step too far? Well I guess we'll find out soon, right? </div>
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But for now, that's the good news... I'm engaged. And in love. And happy as a lark. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-20376681086110234652012-03-14T09:46:00.006-06:002012-03-14T11:03:54.498-06:00The House That Built MeI'm moving this week, from my little one bedroom apartment, into a new place with the love of my life, a full 40 miles, two bedrooms, three baths, a mudroom and a lifetime away. <div><br /></div><div>I seriously hate moving, people, and when I moved into my current little one bedroom apartment I swore I wouldn't leave till either I was old and grey, or I found the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and <span style="font-size: 100%; ">we moved on together, if only because I hate moving and packing/unpacking that much. At that time, two years ago, that prospect seemed like decades away from happening, if ever, and I envisioned a long, quiet existence in this little place. Yet here I am, a month away from our one year anniversary of falling in love, and facing the inevitable task of packing up again, and moving on.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>I cannot believe how much I've managed to accumulate in just two short years. As I opened up the living room closet yesterday, to start digging through bags of old clothing to give away or sell, I found things I haven't seen in so long that I forgot I even had them. So much moss has gathered while this stone has been unrolling. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet, the one thing I am finding hardes<span style="font-size: 100%; ">t to part with isn't old clothing, an awesome old brown papasan (message me if you want it!), unread magazines and half used bottles of condiments - it is the identity that I've found intricately tangled up in this apartment, my own identity, and the person that I used to be here, and that being here has made me.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>In a way I have Miranda Lambert to blame. Well at least, she helped me put it all together. I have been going through such a hard time leaving here, not because I have any doubts of where I'm going or that it's the right path for me, but for reasons my heart couldn't identify. Up till last night, I couldn't tell you why I was fighting leaving, crumbling at the thought of packing, or why, strangely, the truth that I was moving out and on didn't seem real or concrete. </div><div><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div>Then last night I sat down to take a break from packing, and I hit shuffle on my Cloud Drive, and the song "The House That Built Me" came on, and I broke down into tears. I love that song, and it has always provoked an emotional response in me, but for much different reasons. The first time I heard it, I realized that growing up it was my grandma's house that shaped so much of my childhood, as my own mom and brother and I were so often transient, living in too many apartments and houses to even count over the years. We always rented, seeming to move on every few years or so, so no place left lasting memories on me as much as my grandma's house at 2028 Yosemite Drive in Eagle Rock. It was there I would spend weekends helping out at grandma's stupid yard sales, or taking naps in that little back bedroom, waiting for Fiorucci, the little black Lhasa Apso to jump with her short legs up on the bed and nap with me. It was there that my aunt would sit me out on the back porch and cut (or, gasp! perm) my hair, or that we would all gather in the breakfast <span style="font-size: 100%; ">nook for dinner, grandpa reciting the same old prayer, me hiding in the bathroom to get out of washing dishes. It was there that Ryan and I I would play in the backyard, collecting fallen avocados from the tree on the side of the house to eat with salt and pepper, or that eventually I would entertain Hannah and Tristan, my younger cousins. It was there that a Tommy's run was just up the street, those greasy chili burgers and fries imbedding their poison on my culinary memory so that even now I would give anything for one bite. For the better part of my childhood and life, my grandma's house was the house that built me, and the memory and emotional response that the song evoked.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>But last night, as I heard it again, I realized that despite childhood memories being tied up in that song, it also reminded me that living in a certain place can build who we are as adults, and shape how we see ourselves. <span style="font-size: 100%; ">So much of who I've thought I am has been wrapped up in this apartment, and these four walls have cemented in me a sense of who I am, or who I have been. With the song playing in the background, drifting in on a warm spring breeze from th</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">e living room, I stood in the doorway to my bedroom and was overwhelmed with emotion. This, of all other rooms in the apartment, was one that I so thoughtfully and craftily built to evoke a sense of comfort, warmth, and in a way independence. I remember for the first time in my life, feeling like I had a bedroom that was completely my own, and represented 150% who I was, what I liked, and pleased only me. This was a room built for no one else - it was pretty, slightly country, feminine, yet cozy and quirky. A sensory memory came to me then, that it was in this room that, for the first time in my life, I came to terms with the fact that I might spend the rest of my life alone, and I was, for the first in my life, completely and wholly content and happy with the thought. It was in that bedroom, that for the first time, I could picture what my life would be like alone, and I liked it.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div>Two years later I am packing up that bedroom and the reality of what t<span style="font-size: 100%; ">hat means finally hit me last night. No small wonder I've been hesitant, procrastinating and choosing to lay in bed overwhelmed rather than get up and pack. In leaving this place, this apartment, that bedroom, I am coming to terms and admitting who I am now, a wholly different person than the woman that moved in here two years ago.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I am moving on. I am sharing my life now. And I am scared. I will never be alone again, and I cannot tell you if that fact thrills me or scares me. For so very, very long, even while in this sometimes surreal feeling relationship, I have always felt that I am on my own. Even on warm summer weekends that Craig would spend up here, it always felt like my place, and when he would leave, it felt like a dream that he was even here. On Monday's when I would come home to this apartment, after spending the weekend with him, it felt like everything was just a figment of my imagination, and being alone was the true reality. I always chalked up those feelings to a sense of not being able to believe I'd gotten so lucky in life. I've been pinching myself for the last year! Here I am in the most amazing relationship, with the best man I've ever known - of course it felt like a dream. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><div><u><br /></u></div></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Now I wonder if it was something more. Maybe the emotional ties of my own singleness and aloneness, to this apartment, have run deeper than I could have ever imagined, and it's like while I'm here, that is part of who I am. Maybe this apartment really is the last link to the old me, the person who didn't need anyone else to go on and be happy. Maybe while I am here I will never be able to shake that overwhelming, quiet but pervading sense of being alone. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">But that is not the person I am anymore. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Truly a dream has come true, and I have met the most wonderful man. I love him with all my heart, and I know that he loves me. I have never felt so loved or cared for in my life, and in every way he exemplifies to me what true love, selfless, caring, and patient, really is. It is time for me to embrace my new life with him, time to let him in, to my life, to my inner house and to all that builds me. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><div><u><br /></u></div></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">It is time to pack up boxes, to pack up my life, and to move on. This is no longer who I am anymore, and as hard and altering as it is to say goodbye to, it is not somewhere I want to stay. The future is bright, and sometimes that brightness frightens me a little, like it's more than I could ever hope to deserve, therefore too good to be true. But true it is, and as much as I tread lightly, I know that it is time to go down that road, say goodbye to my singleness, what I have perceived before to be my independence, and to my identity as a single woman. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><div><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCttjKLhTfLakdNdNHM9Pemay-cXI6Q6F8XIDVarndDqSbP4fh6pLZ6_RbJVyXwxYRTNF6UOnax4d8fa5vWe5UKGu2q1xstrnQOvOOnXqrxJKHAHtHOBTH13sCVLsP5mP_cTM/s320/home.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719798574784344242" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline; float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I am a "we" now, and for the sake of loving him I should pack so he doesn't have to. </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I should pack because there is a new road, a new street, and four new walls that are awaiting me, where I will learn what it means to be part of a couple, and function together with the other's well being in mind. I have new lessons to learn</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">, memories to make and associations to sink deep inside those new walls. He promises me that someday our "we" will become three (or even four), and then we will have even bigger walls to build and to fill, for our lives together, with our children and our family, and our friends (and maybe even a puppy).</span></div><div><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">As I listen to Miranda's song again I can only hope that in leaving behind the fallacy that I would be alone for the rest of my life, I can build a home for the man I love and maybe one day our children too, and give their memories a place to nest. That by moving on (and in) togethe</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">r I can build a home that will be the foundation for our own dreams and life together. The more I think about it, the more I can't wait to get going and give life to those dreams and to start making memories somewhere new! In that prospect there is such hope, and joy. I think it's about time for me to say my goodbyes to this old place, and start loading up some boxes. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-63292967615452822012011-10-11T20:31:00.003-05:002011-10-11T21:03:13.516-05:00Ten Things That Are Bringing Me JoyAnd just in case I risk being accused of being "overly negative" here are Ten Things That Bring Me Joy right about now...<div><br /></div><div>1. My boyfriend challenged me to a Pumpkin Carve-Off about a month ago, and I'm pretty sure he's forgotten, but I sure haven't. Hey babe, guess what we're doing this weekend? </div><div><br /></div><div>2. The Big Bang Theory. Seriously, I could watch this show Every. Single. Day. Good thing it's on TBS, so now I really can. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Onesta Hair Care - not just an amazing job, but literally the best hair products I've ever used in my life too. And non-carcinogenic to boot. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. Speaking of carcinogenic - Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and specifically the BCAA Symposium and Conference, at the beginning of the month helped bring me some much appreciated perspective on how truly blessed we all are, and how to embrace every day of life with all the passion I have.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. Fall weather - Boots, tights, sweaters, hats, scarves, hand warmers, Pumpkin Spice Latte's, bonfires, apples, football, boots! I love fall! What's not to love? </div><div><br /></div><div>6. Cable TV (partially for the fact that it brought The Big Bang Theory to my life, but also, The Kardashians, Millionaire Matchmaker, Prohibition, Revenge).</div><div><br /></div><div>7. The joys of being Wheat-Free, such as sleeping better, feeling better, and hopefully soon, looking better.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. I have the absolute best boyfriend on earth. He is the best man I know, and I'm unabashedly enamored with him. How he ever manages to love me back is a God given miracle, and makes me smile from ear to ear. </div><div><br /></div><div>9. The small amount of self satisfaction and smugness that comes from simultaneously reading Wheat Belly, God & Harry Potter At Yale, and Guns, Germs & Steel. Not to mention, these are three amazingly good books. Add to this that my copy of Kisses From Katie is on it's way from Amazon and I'm in book heaven. </div><div><br /></div><div>10. Knowing that despite all the crap I've been wading through with gossip, speculation, unsupporting friends and just feeling "out of the loop", my life is full of grace, I have the capacity to show love and mercy, and I am learning so much about what's important in life. </div><div><br /></div><div>Totally random, but has anyone else noticed that Bob Barker has no eyebrows? </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-62835309377235003972011-10-11T17:09:00.004-05:002011-10-11T17:39:25.587-05:00Setting The Record Straight Once AgainSooo.... I posted something last week that I had on my mind for months, but hadn't found the courage to say. It's below if you want to read it. <br /><br />Since that time I've been doing some more thinking, based mostly off of two very snarky, very hurtful comments I received, about the nature of being passive aggressive, and what role it plays in speculation, rumors and "sanctified" gossip. <br /><br />I think it plays a big role, since it's basis is in avoidance. Avoidance of the issues, avoidance of a person, avoidance of confrontation (which isn't always a bad thing!). Avoidance is often at the core of gossip and speculation, as gossip is a sin that never confronts anyone to their face, but whispers about them behind their back. Gossip is, more often than not, an "Anonymous" sin.<br /><br />Was it passive aggressive of me to post my thoughts on gossip, speculation and rumor-mongering? Only if I had done so without confronting my accusers, which as I mentioned halfway through the post, I have done, or at least those that have been brave enough to bring their concerns to my face. <br /><br />Sadly very few people that have been spreading gossip or speculating about me have also been brave enough to confront me about my supposed actions to my face. I can count them on one hand. I am very grateful for them, and if anything I respect them more for having talked to me about their concerns, and for having come to me in person, and it has deepened both our friendship and my appreciation for them. These same individuals, however, have also shared with me that other people have been questioning them, and bringing their grievances about my "Lifestyle Choices" to their attention. What I'd like to know is this - Exactly what kind of sin pit do they think I've fallen into? <br /><br />The people that have been brave enough to share their concerns to my face have also held the right to protect the identity of the people who have chosen to remain anonymous in their gossip and speculation. I respect that right completely, as I think in a way, it ends the vicious cycle of gossip and rumors. If those people who are asking about me are not brave or caring enough to confront me personally, and would prefer to take the passive aggressive way out, then I don't want to know who they are anyways. <br /><br />Ironically enough then, the very thing I'm being accused of, for posting what I did below, is the thing that I have fallen victim to. It's easy to ask someone else about a person, requesting to remain anonymous, and know that you can get the scoop on a person, air your opinions, and all the while be protected. It's equally easy to post a comment that's hurtful and rude, knowing your identity will be shown as "Anonymous". Sadly, it's very easy to be passive aggressive.<br /><br />What takes courage, people, what requires guts and balls, and at least a decent level of caring is this: Confronting someone face to face. Or email to email, text to text, message to message. There is something very admirable about that, and something that flies in the face of sin. I think this is why Jesus told us to air our grievances to our brothers and sisters, if we have a problem with them. In doing so, we demonstrate courage, a level of caring, and we let Satan know that we refuse to live in the dark, but choose instead to walk in the light, and we invite those we have grievances with to do the same.<br /><br />I challenge those people who've chosen to post Anonymously on my blog to walk in the light, and message me. My email address is <a href="mailto:trinetterkaiser@gmail.com">trinetterkaiser@gmail.com</a>, I'm on Facebook (see the widget to the left), and if you know me personally then you probably have my number. Will I be offended? Surprisingly, probably not in the least, as I can't imagine what level of courage and humility it would take to call me. More than likely, I'd be flattered and as long as you're willing to hear my side of the story, I'd be willing to hear yours too. As for the ones that have chosen to circumvent communication, and yes, the biblical outline for confronting your Christian brother, I encourage you to do the same - call or message me. <br /><br />More than anything I want my side of the story to be known. I want people to know that I care, that I forgive, and that I'm alive and not living the life they might have heard I am. I just want the truth to be known. Which is why I've chosen to write about (not to mention the fact, that for me, blogging is highly cathartic, and well within my rights to write whatever I want to. It's my blog, so there!).<br /><br />And at the end of another day, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-73677759673432077942011-10-06T13:16:00.001-05:002011-10-06T13:18:43.214-05:00What I've Learned This Summer (not just the name of a 7th grade back to school report)It’s usually pretty safe to say that the things people fall victim to are the things they tend to stand most resolutely against. A mother who has a child who is struck by a drunk driver is more likely to join MADD, than someone who’s never been the victim of that kind of a crime. I think it’s safe to say that the same goes for all of us, we tend to be adamantly opposed to the things that have hurt us the most, whether that’s drunk driving, or adultery, or gossip or whatever.<br /><br />Lately I’ve been dealing with the fact that, despite having a pretty boring, uneventful life, I’ve been the butt of some pretty hurtful and uninformed gossip. Needless to say, I've been ruminating a lot on the nature of this subtle, yet destructive tool of dissension and injury. It’s pretty amazing how all the clichés about gossip are true too – it spreads like wildfire, it needn’t be false to be hurtful, no one gossips about your secret virtues, and the very people who gossip to you are the ones who are going to gossip about you.<br /><br />Gossip isn't one of those big, loud, showy sins that Christians tend to recognize as obviously ungodly. It isn't murder, or adultery, or any one of the Ten Commandments, for that fact. It's kind of like overeating or pride or little white lies, it’s such a white little sin. And sad to say, a lot of modern Christian culture still reeks with the remnants of decades of Puritanical conservatism and its holier-than-thou mindsets. We may not be living in the 1950’s, where housewives shared the local gossip over a clothesline, but in an age of social media, where everyone knows everything about everyone else’s life, it’s still an easy trap to fall into, and a hard one to own up to. What’s more, with the easy disguise of genuine concern, how many times do we as Christians use the excuse of “being worried about” someone, or “just sharing a prayer request”? What is often disguised with seemingly good intentions is nothing more than a sin hiding its own face, presumptuously thinking no one will notice. Or as George Harrison once said “Gossip is the Devil’s radio.”<br /><br />I have all these thoughts and ruminations about gossip lately, because I find I am the unwilling subject of it amongst a growing number of people, some of them even close friends. Months ago, I would have taken the stance that yes, gossip happens – sadly, it’s inevitable, especially in a smaller church body such as my own. But now that I’m at the wrong end of it, I’m growing increasingly more adamant about how wrong and harmful it is and am starting to question the excuses we make of it being unintentional as just a farce. Even though I’m sure it can’t be true of each individual, it seems to me that there is nothing that keeps a small church body more occupied than speculation and gossip about one of their own. Yet so often I have been guilty of just sitting back and doing nothing about it, while other people gossiped in front of me. Now I deeply regret not standing up for the people in question and putting an end to it when I heard it. What’s more I wish I could take back all the things I heard, and now know (or believe to be true) about the people they were said about. Like toothpaste from a tube, gossip and our words are something that once they’re out, they’re impossible to get back in.<br /><br />So how do we prevent gossip, in the first place? Well, the first step is to recognize it. I think everyone would agree that a gossiper is someone who has the 411 on someone or something and shares that information with other people who have no business knowing it. Whether harm is intended or not, gossip goes from being “caring” to hurtful when it’s content is negative, potentially embarrassing, shameful, and/or brings doubt or speculation on the character or actions of the person in question. Also, if it is shared without permission or knowledge of the person in question, that too it is gossip. I guess the old adage goes that if you have to stop and ask yourself if what you’re saying is gossip, than it is probably better to err on the side of silence, and not say it at all.<br /><br />Another sin that has been at the forefront of my mind this summer is speculation, which I’m loosely defining as the willingness of one person to question the morality or virtue of another person in the absence of concrete information. Speculation can lead to gossip, and for sure gossip leads to speculation, so more often than not the two go hand in hand. Speculation, conjectures and assumptions about a person, without knowing the hard facts, is often what fuels a person’s motivations to seek out or listen to gossip. And since all speculation is, is opinion, it’s subject to the changing whims, fancies and translations of whoever happens to being hearing or repeating it.<br /><br />Speculation drives me so insane, because it goes directly against the biblical mandate of taking your grievances to your brother. We are told in Matthew 18 that if your brother does something that irks you, go take it to him, and try to win him over. I’m sure that the same principle applies if you have questions about what your brother is doing exactly over there in the corner, or just how he’s living his life. Nowhere in the bible do we see it endorsed that in the absence of concrete information, talk to Neighbor #1 about Neighbor #2 and find out what they’ve been observing from behind their kitchen curtains this week. Yep, I’m pretty sure that’s not how Jesus rolled. So much gossip could be nipped in the bud if people just followed this simple idea. You hear something, or think something or wonder something about someone, and instead of asking that person, you go talk to your neighbor, and the two of you proceed into a discussion about exactly what the person in question could be up to. Is it truly being caring? Yes to a point. Is it opening up the door to questioning the virtue and intentions of that person, potentially judging them and giving hurtful gossip a big old Welcome sign with which to enter the conversation? Absolutely.<br /><br />I have been thinking about all this, and wishing I could just tell people directly to their faces to stop their speculating and gossiping already, but sadly, one of the ways we as Christians bury each other’s sins, and our own as well, is through the whole “Someone said” game. As in “Someone said to me the other day that you were really struggling in your faith.” Really? Because I have not told anyone that at all lately, because frankly, it isn’t true, but thanks for checking. Or, better yet “I heard from someone recently that you moved in with your boyfriend, is that true?” Nope, it’s not, but that’s interesting because “Someone” is grossly misinformed on the little details of my life, but must have one helluva wild imagination. In the absence of cold hard facts, and because they want to dig out the truth but are too cowardly to ask outright, it’s easy for people to play the “Someone said” game. This makes it so easy to deflect any guilt, and still seem concerned and sincere. I would venture to say that the verse I mentioned earlier, in Matthew 18:15 covers this base in principle, and just as if you have a problem, go take it to your brother, there is also no better place to go if you want to know something about that person. Get straight to the source, if you want the truth.<br /><br />Well speaking of the truth – the fact of the matter is, there are a few things I’d like to set straight, that have been bothering me lately. I have addressed them to the people in my life who are perpetuating untruths, rumors, speculation and gossip, but for those of you out there wondering, and happening to fall into the speculation or “Someone said” category, here is the truth of what’s going on in my life. Now you can stop speculating, stop gossiping, and hear it straight from the source:<br /><br />No, I have not stopped loving Jesus, despite the fact that I have taken some time off going to church this summer, to just play catch up with my life. I don’t equate taking some much needed downtime as not loving God, but if you do, then I’m really sorry because I’m pretty sure you missed the whole “day of rest” thing. Too bad for you.<br /><br />I have taken time off church because I’ve been busy, sick, traveling (both for work and for personal reasons) and because I can. I am a grown woman, and have the ability to set my own schedule, and if I want to take some time off, it is my inherent right to do so. Short of the overwhelming gossip that my time off has caused, it has actually been a really nice thing for me.<br /><br />I have not taken this time off because I am running from my friends, from any “truth” they are “speaking into my life” or because I have fallen away from my faith. But thanks for jumping to that conclusion, it makes me so glad and reassured to know you all believe the absolute best in me and have such strong faith in my character.<br /><br />No, I’m not pregnant. And I can’t believe I have to resort to saying it in a public forum either. But I’ve been approached by “concerned” friends, playing the “Someone Said” game, who’ve flat out asked if that’s why I haven’t been attending church lately. So let me set the record straight.<br /><br />No, I haven’t moved in with my boyfriend and no, he hasn’t moved in with me. What’s more, he is not drawing me away from my relationship with Jesus, failing to be a good leader, a spiritual man or a moral and decent person. He has not whispered in my ear that I should be setting things on fire, drowning small animals, running over little old ladies in the crosswalk or wearing white after Labor Day. Fact of the matter is, he is a great guy, the best thing that has ever happened to me, the answer to my prayers and then some, and I have the utmost faith in his ability to challenge me as a person holistically and in all areas of my life, including spiritually.<br /><br />Despite the fact that I’m largely MIA lately, I have not stumbled down a slippery slope of sin, like a good girl gone bad. No matter what you may think, I am still the same person, just a little more ticked off than usual, and with good cause. I am still the same Trinette that likes to play with kids more than talk to adults, who is goofy, would give you the shirt off her back and has absolutely no poker face. I am frustrated that a simple change in my habits has caused this much angst, and drama, and I am deeply hurt by the fact that I feel entirely unsupported by the people I would have months ago called my friends, but I know I’m going to be okay.<br /><br />Because at the end of the day I’ve learned some pretty valuable lessons – like no matter what group you’re in, most people tend to shun the outsiders, and treat well only those they consider their own, even the most “Christian” groups. I’ve learned that if you want to continue in a friendship or relationship with someone, it is indeed a two way street, and that puts equal responsibility on yourself to work at it, and trust me, friendships take work. But most importantly I think I’ve learned what not to do. How not to judge. How not to live. I’ve learned that one of the most valuable things you can offer to a person, no matter what you think of their choices, is not to jump to conclusions, not to judge them without all the facts, and not to spread your suspicions, speculations and gossip around before you think about the life you are affecting, and the individual person about whom you’re blabbering about. I’ve learned that treating other’s as you would wish to be treated is truly the golden rule – it is precious, and beautiful, but it is rare, just like gold. I’m grateful for the character going through this summer has brought me, character that makes me both stronger and more conscientious, through the cost of a little pain and frustration.<br /><br />I hope that this post, instead of seeming like the rants of someone who just needs to get something off her chest, will inspire you to take a look at how you’re living and how better to emulate Christ. Let me leave with a quote, from someone who said it a lot better, and less grandiosely than I’ve managed to. It’s off of a Facebook status from Mars Hill Church: “'If you go & sin no more, then neither will I condemn you' is the opposite of 'Neither do I condemn you. Go & sin no more.' Order matters." –<em>Pastor Justin Holcomb</em>.<br /><br />And that’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-81391914052738959202011-07-20T13:02:00.002-05:002011-07-20T13:22:20.180-05:00Ten Things That Are Brining Me Joy Right Now<ol><br /><li>Puppies & Potatoes - if you know, you know. </li><br /><li>Started the day feeling a breeze going through my apartment and noticing there was a palpable temperature/humidity drop inside those four walls overnight. Maybe this weekend I'll actually be able to stay there instead of trying to escape to anywhere that doesn't feel like Dante's 7<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> Circle of Hell. </li><br /><li>First song on the radio this morning: Blake Shelton's "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">HoneyBee</span>". Seriously, how cute is Blake Shelton? How even cuter is that song? I haven't told my sweetheart yet, but I think I want that to be "our song". </li><br /><li>Speaking of the man - the surprise for me that he is not working this weekend, and the surprise for him that I'm not in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Las</span> Vegas till next weekend, meaning we have the entire weekend to spend together. Now that's a great surprise!</li><br /><li>Things are calming down a bit at work as the new gals become more confident working <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">independently</span>. Maybe this week I won't be staying till 7:00 every night :)</li><br /><li>Shopping on Monday with Calli!! <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Yay</span> for beautiful new friends and retail therapy!</li><br /><li>The prospect that, according to the often-wrong Kare 11 Weather Team, it's supposed to cool down significantly in the next few days. Like ten degrees or more temperature drop cool down. </li><br /><li>7 more days till <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cosmoprof</span> in Vegas. 35 more days till Boston with my baby!</li><br /><li>More fodder for the stream of consciousness conversation I've been having with myself on the subject of doing everything "in love". THIS is the call of all <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Christiankind</span> - and the greatest action we can ever take. I love learning about it, and only wish I could get the idea that I want a tattoo of it out of my head. </li><br /><li>Harry Potter - this past weekend and again tonight with a friend! Oh man, I think I just <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">squealed</span> a little big and maybe even peed my chair. </li></ol>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-74027442736563508762011-06-15T15:19:00.004-05:002011-06-15T16:03:07.510-05:00A Letter To The Young Women In My Life.Someone gave me the most amazing compliment today. She texted me to say thank you for remaining true to myself, even when I'm in a relationship. She said that her teenage daughter noticed the other day that I have not "changed", either myself or how I act, just because I'm in a relationship, and especially while I'm around my boyfriend. She said that this spoke louder than all the dating talks she and her husband could give her daughter, and thanks for just being myself.<br /><br />Hahah, I guess it's pretty easy - I don't know how to be anybody other than me, and I've never been someone who's good at faking it. But I know I am also more than blessed to have a great guy in my life who loves me, not despite of who I am, but just because of who I am, and that allows me to stay true to all the dorkiness that is me. For the first time in my life, I have a tangible sense of what it means to be loved for all my quirks and oddities and to trust in a relationship that the other person will love me even as he discovers all the things about me that I assume would change his mind. Knowing this reassures me that this awesome man I get to know and love is a blessing and a treasure from my heavenly Father who has loved me like that since before time existed. C is just one <strong><em>more</em></strong> way that God shows me His own love on a daily basis, but by no means is he the only way.<br /><br />Sidenote: Granted love is so much more than a feeling, or an emotion, and even feelings wane. Today, though, a thought occurred to me from the classic love section of 1 Corinthians 13- love keeps no evil of wrong, well it also needs to be sure to never forget the good either. As I practice every day what it means to love another person - the compromise, the self-sacrifice, the grace and acceptance and mercy, I need to make sure that I am not just forgetting any wrongs done to me, but always remembering the good about each person and the good that they've shown me. It's not enough to not keep track of hurts, we need to celebrate the things about the people that we love that are beautiful as well. <br /><br />I am so blessed to be in a relationship that is every day teaching more and more about the kind of love Christ showed me. His is the kind of love that saw me dirty and filthy, and died for me with joy and love in His heart. For the treasure that was put before Him He endured the pain and the shame of the cross. We are that treasure that He was looking forward to. We were the light at the end of His tunnel. What's more, He didn't try to clean me up beforehand, or tell me that I need to act this certain way or behave that certain way to get His love. He took what was imperfect and showed me a love that was beautifully perfect. He was the first one to remind me it's okay to be who I am - that is who He created me to be and who He loved since before I was even born. And through this great relationship with C that He's given me, He is teaching me in new ways to refine what He has redeemed into someone kinder, sweeter, gentler, more sacrificial, less selfish, and all around better. Love is doing the refining work in me that all the behavior modification in the world never could. <br /><br />The love that He has shown me, and the gift that He has given me of a man who accepts me the way I am and doesn't try to change me is what I've always wanted and prayed for, but knew I would be okay without. And I hope that the young women in my life realize that they too will be okay with out it, if that is God's will for their lives. We do not <strong><em>need</em></strong> a guy, a boyfriend, or a man to remind of us God's love - it is there for us to see in a million other ways, if we just ask Him to show us. Now that I have it though, I can fully see that it is nothing I've earned, nothing I've deserved or accomplished on my own, nothing I would have died or been miserable without, and most of all, I can see truly that it is 150% a gift from my Father who loves me. And fortunately, it is just like the Bobbi Brown makeup I've become so addicted to, it allows me to be me, only better. Btw - yes, that was a shameless plug for Bobbi Brown, but I am seriously adoring her makeup line. There is nothing artificial, fake or mask like about it - it is built around just being who you are, but better. And that is something I hope all the young women I know will realize about God's love - His love takes us just as we are and makes us more beautiful (Christlike), but still fully ourself. <br /><br />Young ladies, remember that who you are is "good" in God's sight. He has created you unique and amazing and truly transcendentally beautiful. Every day He will find new ways to show you it Himself, if you just ask and seek. And frankly, I don't want to ever hear that any young woman I know is waiting around for a guy to show her this about herself - we, as the body of Christ, get the privilege of doing that, among other ways that He can use. But when you do find the right guy (you know, when you're like me, 36, haha!), you will then see in a <strong><em>new</em></strong> way God's love for you. Till then, don't change who you are. Love who you are. Embrace who you are, and grow in Christlike character to refine who you are into someone even more beautiful and glowing and reflective of He who loves you. You young ladies are amazing, and I love you very much! Now go conquer the world with all the love of Christ, because with a smile like yours, you're gonna stop this world in it's tracks!<br /><br />And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-59933904541239022132011-05-19T14:41:00.012-05:002011-05-19T17:38:28.592-05:00All You Need Is Love, Love Is All You Need<span style="color:#ffffff;">.....</span><br />Love is an amazing thing. Not the Taylor Swift, teenage emotion kind of love that wanes and fades with time or distraction, or even the exhilarating but fleeting emotion of crush (Bowie & Elliot style, yeah!) but God's love, pouring out from His side, pooling crimson red at His feet for us, and the love He pours into our hearts for others, that His goodness might be shared.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvNFjzleRghQO5j0fiSjy9JqTLQ0TYbILKQ0bLVRTm-eBQ4ku8TqreXViy1PRaOv2PjJddpiwZ6l28QlXHgaWU_Y0RCvArKQocH-smVWo1XCithzq84QnexGY8ZEJFDxTzNBJ/s1600/Elliott-and-Bowie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608559517631024578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvNFjzleRghQO5j0fiSjy9JqTLQ0TYbILKQ0bLVRTm-eBQ4ku8TqreXViy1PRaOv2PjJddpiwZ6l28QlXHgaWU_Y0RCvArKQocH-smVWo1XCithzq84QnexGY8ZEJFDxTzNBJ/s400/Elliott-and-Bowie.jpg" /></a> I've been thinking a lot about love recently, mostly because I find myself in love. Yep, I'm in love, with the most awesome man I've ever known, who is so good to me, and can only be described as God's blessing and gift in my life. All this mushy-gooshy lovey-doveyness has got me to thinking about how incapable of showing real love I really am. The other night, as I was driving home from one of our dinner dates, where he had presented me with an undeserved little token of his affection (aka GORGEOUS Anthro scarf), I broke down in tears realizing that no matter how hard I try, I will never be as good to this man as he is to me, or as God is to me through him, because I am completely incapable of an unselfish kind of love. Fears of not being able to love him deeply enough haunt me.<br /><br />There on Highway 169, driving home through a haze of mascara runny tears, I prayed to my Father, asking Him to grow in me the kind of love that someone as amazing as my man deserves, the kind of love that is an outpouring of His own true love in my life. And He answered me back so faithfully, reminding me of James 1:17, that "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." Yes, C is God's gift in my life, but even more than that, He is a gift from my Heavenly Father, who rules the heavenly lights, and owns the whole universe to give away at His disposal. My Father is ever steadfast, constant and true, and because He loves me and graces me with a merit I have never earned, He has given me a token of His own beautiful affection in the love of this kind and giving man. It's an earthly love that reminds me of a perfect, heavenly love.<br /><br />Today I was reading Kisses From Katie, which I haven't done in a long time, and I broke down sobbing in my chair (are we sensing a trend?), because beautiful, caring Katie wrote so eloquently, once again, about God's love in her life, and her near obligation to let that love pour of our her into the many lives that God sends her way. In case you haven't read it yet, her Good Friday posting was wildly stirring in it's humility and gratitude. Here is a young woman that is wholly surrendered to His will, crazy and unpredictable and scary as it may be sometimes. And the reason why she allows herself to live a life many of us couldn't even imagine, well, it's all about love. His love for her, and the love that overflows into the lives she comes into contact with everyday. She said it in one of her posts, that when she's scared of what God's unpredictable will for her life might be, she remembers that perfect love casts out all fear.<br /><br />Reflecting on all the ways we can show love to the people around us, as a mirror reflection of the God who first showed us love, can be a bit mind-blowing. I know at times I cannot comprehend it, nor even figure out how to do it. I want to love the fantastic man that God has put into my life with every last ounce of love that I can give, and in God's perfect, unselfish, giving way. This is the way he has been loving me, and one of the characteristics that I fell so in love with is the fact that he is so open about expressing his love, his support and his care for me. He shows me God's love for me in human form almost every day.<br /><br />Christ Himself, fully God, yet humbled to the point of being a pathetic human, showed that love when He bled and died for us. He showed it when he, bent over with pain and the weight of the sins of the world, carried that massive cross to Calvary. He showed it when He spoke not a word, but meekly let Himself be led to the slaughter, soldiers and citizens alike mocking and humiliating Him. He showed it when He exhaled that final breath, weak from the torture He endured, heartbroken from separation from God, the natural consequence of fully bearing our sin, yet strong in grace, endurance, courage and love. That love cost Him everything, and bought me my freedom. That love set the bar for all love before and after it, every love there ever would be.<br /><br />Grace, Endurance, Courage and Love. Faith, Hope and Love. And the greatest of these is Love. Love is what Christ has perfectly modeled for me. Love is what I want to give back to the world, to the hurting and unloved children, and to the man that God has blessed my life with. I'm no Katie Davis, but I know that I don't need to be. I need to be me, TrK, and to find my own path to love the way He wants me to. Only in His love, and through His strength will I ever be able to do that. And though I am scared at the prospect of all the ways that He can do that, I embrace it to. For what else do we need, but love? Love is all you need.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-34527502467360255382011-04-09T21:31:00.003-05:002011-04-09T21:42:22.916-05:00A Story To Be Told On A Quiet Saturday NightTime has passed, a lot of time, since I wrote on here last. So much has changed, inside of me, and yet nothing has changed that's visible. <div><br /></div><div>I guess what I logged on here to say, and to write was this: When nothing else seems like it's worth doing, or of any interest or meaning to me anymore, writing is the one thing that I can count on to be completely therapeutic and get me through.</div><div><br /></div><div>Things in my life are still up in the air - I'm still looking for work, a year later, I'm still barely making it by, I'm still dealing with broken relationships, and the jaded hopelessness of a questionable love life. I'm still the same old me. But I've started writing again, a short story, or a novel, or a novella, I guess. And this one thing is different for me. At times when I have nothing else that excites me or that I feel I can live for, pouring my thoughts out onto paper, listening to the comforting sound of the clack-clack of my fingernails on my keyboard, is keeping me centered and grounded. I've always wanted to be a writer, and yet I've never had the heart to write anything other than journal entries and random blog posts. I've never felt like I've had anything to say. I still don't, but something has freed up inside of me to finally put down the nuances and emotions of what I've been going through. I have a character, whose words I am driven to tell. I may never finish it, I may certainly never publish it, but for the first time, I have something to write about, something that is inspiring me, and a story to be told. </div><div><br /></div><div>And at a time when the days drag on forever, and I wait with a sad sort of hope that something in my life will turn around and change, this one thing is getting me through. I guess I should say Thank You God, for giving me this gift and finally bringing me to a point where I want to use it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, that's all that's new with me. As I used to say, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-74181915682312203112011-01-24T22:42:00.004-06:002011-01-24T23:07:33.710-06:00Brave Enough To Try<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I am a wee bit addicted to style blogs. Fashion, home decorating, anything style related, I'm a sucker for it. And there are some good ones out there, trust me. So tonight, here I lay in my cozy bedroom, the milk cocoa walls playing with the light from my red <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">mosiac</span> glass lamps, listening to a little B&<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tB</span>, and a little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Moulin</span> Rouge soundtrack, reading the style blogs. I. Am. Happy.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>And then I stumbled across this amazing mural, on <a href="http://cocokelley.blogspot.com/">Coco+Kelly</a>, one of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">favie</span>-faves, and all of a sudden I felt empty and unfulfilled, desiring, nay coveting this wall, (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ok</span>, gross <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">exaggeration</span>, but once you see it, you'll understand the depth of my longing). </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1XR0msSmAczMXwY1oj_sdiNOSNHtnO00AMeGU-WOfoxnDjO-aeHNO8an8EG_UZZOMIBlg7FePyBT04LboLsYPUg5cdYKmuXeOrLDjTcaHeHMvPR4L3T4g29W84RU5H5bDMgk/s400/5383075189_d120505aa2_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 358px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565981475054823858" /></div><div>In case you can't read the caption, it says "You'll never do a whole lot unless you're brave enough to try." <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Oohhhhh</span>, the truth of that message. I want to be a woman of action, of purpose, of bravery and of daring. I want to be a woman who never let fear stop her from trying something new, doing something different and living with intention. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>And just as much as I want that, I really, really, really want that mural in my living room! It is so picture perfect for me, and I really want it, I really, really do. It looks adorable in a bedroom yes, but my bedroom is a quiet little sanctuary of warm cocoa and red coziness, and that's just the kind of message I want near the front door to remind me to go greet the world with a smile, Mary Tyler Moore style, as I leave every morning. Does the fact that it's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">backdropped</span> with my favorite color, navy blue, have something to do with it as well? I don't doubt the fact. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, tonight as I sing along (quietly, under my breath of course) to some Elephant Love Medley, picturing Nicole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kidman</span> and Ewan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">McGregor</span> shouting from the rooftops the merits of taking a chance and a risk on love, and as I think about all the things I want to do in my life, all the lives I want to make a difference in, all the places I want to see, and things I want to try (learning Italian, teaching High School English - heck maybe even combining the two and leading a trip to Verona, to see the home of one of the great literary classics Romeo & Juliet), I think to myself that nothing will ever get done unless I'm brave enough to try. I think I want to try my hand at painting a mural, even.... I just need to be brave enough to try.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-62149830382274477652011-01-24T12:37:00.007-06:002011-01-24T14:35:16.761-06:00Does This Help At All?<div><div>So I still haven't woken up. I still haven't had any coffee either though. There's one thing, no make that two things, no wait, make that <strong>four things that are kind of getting me through today</strong>, however, with a bit more of a smile than I would have without them:</div><br /><div></div><div>#<strong><u>1 - Super Cute Monday work outfit, WITH jeans!</u></strong> I've decided screw this, I'm wearing jeans to work every day. Everyone else is doing it, so why can't I? Which reasoning NEVER worked with my mom growing up, but it's a good thing I'm an adult now and can eat ice cream for breakfast and pick my own clothes and do what I want. So, basically, my new work wardrobe is gonna be nice trouser jeans, button down tops, cardis and chunky heels, I can just tell. Today is no different. But it is wicked cute (wide leg, dark rinse Gap jeans, ruffle front red plaid button down from Banana Republic, basic grey cardi from the Limited, chunky red beaded necklace from Uganda, Vintage grey snakeskin T-straps from BR many a year ago, ivory chunky satchel with brass hardware from Target).</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565839799340819522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwWK_o2xLa6ZLWo2q3KBMo9eF62V_rlTTqwvVCw6OGZriWkA5TLlWohmimEDe-5i5dzpDnH60CTGWlsfs59A2xxUtxilvS4ziDZVSqem47udE4N7FcqjUgeg_0y1dAAF_ULTfH/s320/ruffle+front+shirt.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565839793475503922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGPgDWfYE5tSHuFrtcgIii1TwshTNsAyYtb0VpbnazBA60w5gEcM6HbtALsa77UjZDcJgm1tIAdr4RlZyivrsi-H24zeLKmSalRPLwSvn3CPRs7krIvUInecincyYcetDvSZf/s320/jeans.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565841254722441506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0u7K9jxyhpufEqoAPTIwK85GI5nc1P4TpWaKy1VNWq5bd6i9LEwVUbxKVmLYEJv9nBf75bjpIDnilhJsVhTm5BO6WILi7GcOK6qgojGCtEjNb0WJvP03XorvQUBqqeQEMHjGh/s320/my+shoooooes.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div>#2 - I've also taken to <strong><u>listening to my iPod at my desk</u></strong>, because well frankly, I find the silence around this place a little eery, and disturbing. And I work a LOT better with music. So right now it's Roma di Luna singing I Will by the Beatles, and before that it was a little Adele singing one of my all time favorite songs, To Make You Feel My Love (If I ever get married, I'm dancing with my husband to that song someday). Yep, Adele is awesome, and I wish I could grow up and be her - from the throaty, Bourbon soaked pleading in her songs to her vintage-glam sense of style, to her glossy auburn hair and flawless English rose complexion. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565839382713245794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWz7iEMijOdtwbY9QMmNnm74-tSv9JzpQaOdhP8qknlcOas9XvwN3GShLFHolnNXpozdhOxvQZPR1366IQW7iyjHiLuMwKjBymgdUzHFQcWlkuZLjrmYrwRtjl2V1MYAyxMWoS/s320/adele.jpg" border="0" /> <div>#3 - <u><strong>dinner with MA</strong></u>, my favorite used to be in youth group but has moved on to bigger things like college, kid. She is such a riot, and I love spending time with her and am always glad when we can get dinner together, trying new places and being culinary adventurers together. Tonight, we're using a Groupon someone gifted me (yay, free dinner) at the 508 Restaurant in downtown. I can't wait to get together and talk about all the neat, new things God is doing in our lives. Oh and boys. And school and work, but boys too. </div><br /><div></div><div>#4 - speaking of <strong><u>boys</u></strong> ..... BLUSHIIING!!! I had a date this weekend, and now I've got a phone date tonight after dinner. That's all I'm saying. For now. </div><br /><div>Well, today, this ugly semi-snowy Monday, that's all I got for ya. Hopefully, it's good enough to get through the rest of the day, cuz that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. </div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-40005367928369879712011-01-24T10:43:00.004-06:002011-01-24T10:55:13.371-06:00The Mean Red Writing BluesSometimes writing comes easy for me, and I have more words than I'm able to get out of my mind and onto a page. Other times, I have ideas, but no way of voicing them, the words just won't come. Other times, at best, I'm a zombie, lifeless, looking to eat me some brains!<br /><br />Lately I'm somewhere stuck between the latter two, when it comes to my new blog, Dancing Backwards Through The Halls. I'm leaning a little more towards having ideas, but not sure what to say about them. And I know that writing is sometimes a discipline, and sometimes an art, but when I get to these roadblocks, it's more discipline in the true being tied to my chair with a pen duct taped to my hand variety. I've got a bad case of the Monday morning mean reds.<br /><br />In any case, I guess sometimes it's cathartic to at least get some ideas out there, into the great big cyberuniverse, and maybe by doing so, the words will come. Coffee might greatly aid in this process. <br /><br />So for now, here's a quote I'm working with, that I got off a blog that I just love. It's inspired me to think more on how to communicate the idea of identity - that is to say, whether or not as young women we are living as Authentic, or as Airbrushed Christians. <br /><br /><strong><em>"I have no patience with the untorn, anyone who hasn’t weathered rough weather, fallen apart, been ripped to pieces, put herself back together, big stitches, jagged cuts, nothing nice. Then something shines out. But these ones all shined up on the outside, the ass-wigglers, I’ll be honest, I don’t like them. Not at all. " -</em> Andrea Dworkin</strong><br /><br />Let's face it, someone who dares to put it out there that fake people bother her, and uses the term ass-wiggler, to define them, is quite alright in my book and puts a slight smirk on the face of this undercaffeinated subversive. Right now, till I get some Starbucks in me, that is enough to propel me just a bit further. <br /><br />And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-90843214777987951372011-01-17T18:42:00.004-06:002011-01-17T20:03:12.912-06:00Hospitaliano!!!!The Olive Garden was my very first job ever, in high school. I worked there for three years, and by the time I left I swore I never wanted to see another bowl of endless salad or basket of breadsticks ever again. Though they WERE sooooo good with Alfredo sauce, not even kidding!!!<div><br /></div><div>In any case, during the course of my Italian McDonalds career, I grew to love three things at the Olive Garden - their Cappelini Primavera (no longer available, thank you very much!), their Pasta E' Fagioli soup and their Tiramisu. Two of those things were amongst the healthier options you could eat at TOG, but one of these things was not like the others. I'll let your amazing skills of deductive reasoning work it out. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, because it's January, and because everyone wants to get on the health bandwagon in January, I was brainstorming low-fat, veggie loaded dishes I could whip up for quick and easy dinners this month, and my mind turned back to the Pasta E' Fagioli soup, as well as to a soup that my friend W made last month, which was delicious. And because I've decided to cut back my meat intake to just once or twice a week, maximum and to up my veggie intake my triple I thought that with a few tweaks, this classic soup could be downright good for me, as well as delicious. </div><div><br /></div><div>So tonight, while listening to a little Over The Rhine, I whipped it up, literally within 45 minutes, including chop time. And now, after having sat down to a big steaming bowl, I can say, in my personal opinion, this is some of the best tasting, best for you soup I've had in ages. </div><div><br /></div><div>So here's my recipe, try it out and tell me if you agree. Just a side point too, this soup has a full serving of your daily allowance of lutein, which is more than most of us get in a week! So without further ado, my <b><u>Kind of Italian, Kind of Whatever Version of Pasta E' Fagioli Soup</u></b></div><div><br /></div><div>1 tablespoon Olive Oil</div><div>3 medium carrots, chopped</div><div>3 stalks of celery, chopped</div><div><div>2 shallots, chopped</div><div>4 cloves of garlic, crushed</div><div>1 onion, chopped</div></div><div>1 lb. Jenny-O Hot Italian Sausage, casings removed</div><div>1 Red Bell Pepper, middle removed and chopped</div><div>1 Green Bell Pepper, middle removed and chopped</div><div>1 medium can of Diced Tomatoes with Italian Seasonings/Roasted Garlic, whatever you find</div><div>1 small can of Tomato Sauce</div><div>1 cup dry red wine (optional)</div><div>1 large container Reduced Sodium Organic Free Range Chicken Broth from Trader Joes (or Veggie Broth if you prefer)</div><div>2 tbsp Italian Seasoning mix from Penzeys, or any Italian spice mix (or Oregano, Basil, Sage, Rosemary)</div><div>1 can Cannellini Beans, drained</div><div>1 can Kidney Beans, drained</div><div>2 medium zucchini, chopped into bite size pieces</div><div>1 large head of Kale, leaves chopped into bite size pieces</div><div>1 package cheese tortellini, from the fresh pasta section, already boiled and tossed with a little olive oil to prevent sticking</div><div>Pre-grated Reduced Fat Grated Italian Cheese blend, to taste</div><div><br /></div><div>In a large stock pot, drizzle a little olive oil, about one tablespoon, and let it get warm enough that it moves fluidly along the bottom of the pan, when you tilt the pan. Add the carrots and celery, and saute for 3-4 minutes. Then add the shallots, garlic and onions and continue to saute till the onions turn translucent. Remove from pot, and set aside. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the same pot, add the sausage, and break it up, as it cooks, just like you would ground beef. I use a Pampered Chef Mix & Chop which is such a handy tool - seriously, if you know a Pampered Chef crack pusher, you should totally get one!</div><div><br /></div><div>Once the sausage is brown, return the vegetables back into the pot, and add the green and red bell peppers, and saute for 2-3 more minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now comes the fun part.... you can just start dumping everything else in there, UNTIL you get to the zucchini. Once you get to the zucchini, STOP!! Do not add that, the kale or the tortellini yet, they'll mush up and overcook if you do. Just let everything else come to a slow simmer, and cook like that for 20 minutes. Now you can throw in the kale, zucchini and tortellini (btw- with the tortellini, it's much better if you boil it ahead of time, but if you're crunched for time, or pots, you don't have to). Return to a slow simmer and let it cook for another ten minutes, and voila!! Top it off with some of that shredded cheese, and some crushed red pepper if you're feeling particularly adventurous, and you have an amazing soup, with a ton of vegetables, that is hearty, and tasty, and not really all that bad for you either. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, from my faux Italian kitchen to yours, enjoy!!! And as they used to say at TOG years ago, Hospitaliano! (I'm pretty sure they made that word up and it's not even really part of authentic Italian vocabulary). Enjoy!! </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-23415874028608202482011-01-12T10:33:00.011-06:002011-01-12T12:06:44.303-06:00A Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of ThatSo, it's been a while since I've had some rambling randomness here (or so I think), so I'm inclined to do a bit of that.<br /><br />But first, I want to say that I'm pretty stoked to announce that I've started a new blog this week, aimed directly at young women, from junior high school to early career age, talking about issues that are relevant to their lives and hopefully offering a perspective that is godly and holy without being "in-the-box" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Christianese</span> about it. It's called <a href="http://dancingbackwardsthroughthehalls.blogspot.com/">Dancing Backwards Through The Halls</a>. To quote it "The title came from the fact that as women, we are expected to dance backwards in high heels, a euphemism that refers to the fact that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Estaire</span> ever did, but backwards and in high heels. Young women today are expected to do just that – to gracefully navigate the hallways of our schools and workplaces, heck of our lives, while dodging <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">slushies</span> and avoiding been thrown in trash cans and balancing in the highest of heels and expectations. More than anything I want you to know that you don’t dance alone, but rather you can rest your arms in the powerful hands of God, and just follow His lead."<br /><br />I think that says it all.<br /><br />I'm excited about writing it, and have a goal set for myself of writing there twice a week. I could use some feedback about topics that are relevant to young women today, because I'm sure there are many which differ from what I think they are. So please feel free to go leave me some comments there, and I will take them all into consideration.<br /><br />In the meantime, over here at A Woman's Right To Shoes, I'm still the same old me, random and quirky and just using this forum as a way to think out loud as it were. Today, well, let's be honest, the first thing on my mind is how much I love the outfit I'm wearing!!! I think it looks really cute and I'm pretty satisfied with it. A cute outfit can change the entire perspective for a day, and boost my confidence, which in turn boosts my mood like no cup of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">joe</span> ever could.<br /><br />Let's take today's ensemble: On top you've got clean hair, always a plus. Complimented by my favorite Banana Republic oyster colored ruffle neck shell, underneath a grey BR cardigan (you can NEVER go wrong with a grey cardigan!) which is embellished with darker grey embroidered roses around the neckline. Pair that with a simple dark grey grosgrain pencil skirt (also BR), and a black rosette belt (The Limited) , grey leopard print tights (Tar-jay) and black high heeled oxfords (also Target) and I'm not even kidding, this is one cute outfit today.<br /><br />Maybe I've been reading <a href="http://whatiwore.tumblr.com/">What I Wore </a>too much though seriously, how can you not be addicted to Jessica's blog? She is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">sooo</span> cute and totally my style inspiration. In addition to home decorating and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">DIY</span> blogs, style blogs and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">lookbooks</span> are my new end of 2010/beginning of 2011 obsession. And since I swore & stuck to a resolution of not buying any new clothing in December, I was forced to shop my closet all month long, and trust me, I have some great pieces in there, if I'd only get around to being more creative about using them.<br /><br />I think I need a good girlfriend to just hang out with me in my bedroom, rocking out to some Gaga, sipping some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Pinot</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Noir</span> and helping me come up with some hot outfits. We could snap pictures and I could make my very own <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">TRK</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">lookbook</span>, for those mornings when I wake up crabby and think "I have nothing to wear" (Oh, I know we've all been there, trust me!).<br /><br />Even without the help though, I've been coming up with some super cute outfits lately, and wanting to post them all. Like my latest favorite jeans <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">mashup</span> that I wore to dinner last week - a light blue BR tunic (that I never wear because it looks positively maternity on), belted with my favorite hemp/cognac leather <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Anthro</span> belt (which solved the whole maternity top problem), underneath a navy and white sailor striped <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">flowy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Anthro</span> cardigan, with Gap skinny jeans my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">TJMaxx</span> cognac colored riding boots and an amber colored beaded <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Anthro</span> necklace. There was nothing new, just something new about the way it all came together.<br /><br />Anyways, I don't mean to bore you readers with a day-by-day play-by-play of what I'm wearing. It's just that it's a nice feeling to shop my closet, and find some cute new things to wear in there, and frankly, like I said earlier, it makes me feel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">gooooood</span> about myself. So there you have it, in all it's trite little glory!<br /><br />Well, like I said, this post was definitely going to be "a little bit of this, a little bit of that", but before I bid you farewell, let me add this last little <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">anecdote</span> for your amusement.<br /><br />We all know what a klutz I am - well today, I lived up to that stereotype and then some. Here at work, there are not many interesting, fun or lively people. I think I'm about it. But we do have one engineer who is pretty cute, and seems young and fun and I try to say hi to him whenever I can. But he sits on the opposite side of the building, so I never see him. Well this morning, as I was sitting at my cubicle, poking away at my work, I heard him talking to someone over near the fax machine. So, slyly, I picked up some papers and thought this would be a good time to go make some copies. I stood there, at the copy machine, quietly copying while he finished his conversation, and then when he was done I smiled and said "Hi K, how's it going?", to which he answered politely "Good, how about you?" and we started chatting, as we walked back towards my cubicle. Or I should say, he walked, and I, at that very moment, walked into a file cabinet. Face first. Just took it head on. With him standing right there. It scared me so badly, I jumped back a little bit, and he asked me, all sweet and concerned "Are you alright?"<br /><br />Yeah, I'm alright. There's not much that can bruise this ego anymore, and well, face plants, that's something I'm used to. Thanks for asking though, have a nice day.<br /><br />And that's my story, and I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">stickin</span>' to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-44626554279856765332011-01-11T06:38:00.006-06:002011-01-11T13:52:08.364-06:00Life Is What You Make Of It, Reprised<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>So, a few days ago I posted a little bit of reflection that I'd like to clarify was by no means self pitying whining, as much as just reflection, and what was on my mind as an observation at that time. I tend to do that sometimes, and definitely do it here - just say what I'm thinking. This blog is often more for my own cathartic thought processing as anything else.<br /><br />But my post kind of got me to thinking, about, really, well, what's on my mind these days. I started thinking about what fills my mind, and what I choose to communicate to the outside world, sometimes sans filter, on a regular basis. Another factor that got me to thinking was the fact that someone I know started up a blog recently and within a few days she had 400 hits to it. Within days. I don't think I've had that many people read my blog in years! Her blog is called "Save His Girls", and it's a forum for her thoughts on the issues facing young Christian girls these days. It is written from the perspective of someone who grew up in the church, and is what I would call a very atypical contemporary Christian woman with a heart for God and His people. She is so sweet!<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>In some regards though, I can see our differences in this heart for His girls, not in the heart itself as much as the execution. Whereas my heart for ministry is definitely in working with young girls in the church, I would like to think that I take the approach of helping them think outside the box of contemporary Christian culture, and all that they hear in church and from well meaning family. In that sense, I would never want to be labeled as a "contemporary Christian". Yes, I want to encourage the young women I know, and love to realize that they have the power, through God's holy spirit, and the freedom bought by Christ, to seek the Father's heart as it truthfully relates to us human beings and is communicated to them in His word, as opposed to what they hear from both the world all around them (aka Christian culture) and the "World" all around them.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div>Girls these days don't just get conflicting messages, they get it from the most confusing of sources - from church, and family, whose overprotective and conservative views on one end of the spectrum can be just as harmful as the overly liberal, hedonistic and self-centered messages they get from pop culture and media on the other end. And not only that, I really don't think that there are enough Christian women who realize that the messages purported by Christian culture are equally harmful to these young souls, as there should be, and could be. I am blessed to be surrounded by an amazing group of friends in my generation, who not only love God but are walking with Him in authentic and seeking relationships every day. There are a few of my friends I would be proud for any teenage daughter of my own to look up to, like my friends W or L. Or H, who I miss as a female co-sponsor, and whose life exemplifies all that these girls need to hear about living for God, not for husbands or children or boyfriends or images of what it means to be a good Christian girl. These are women who, whether intentionally or not, have managed to shrug off the image of, well lameness and sameness, that surrounds contemporary Christian culture and yet have managed to still have thriving, fruitful and deep relationships with God, and that can teach a whole lot more than any Point Of Grace album notes ever could.<br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><p align="left">In any case, I digress. As I was reading a friend's email last night, where he was talking about our jobs and how they are what we're doing in our life, but are they what we're supposed to be doing WITH our life, I began to reflect on the call to ministry God has put on my life. His words convicted me to look at both how I spend my time, and what I feel God has called me to do, and to really examine if I'm living out the mandate that God has impressed upon my heart, or if I'm just self-centerdly floating and coasting day by day. I'm thankful that a friend who doesn't often share, chose to last night, because in that instance it was both inspiring and convicting and it really got me to praying and thinking. I think that's called iron sharpening iron, but y'know. Anyways, one thing that came to mind was a realization that how I use this forum for communication (the blog) is one way I could be serving God more. And I realized that more often than not, blogging, for me, is just what I called it earlier, a cathartic means of self expression and self discovery through verbal processing. I'm a writer at heart, and writing things down helps me to think things through. Yet I hate journaling, so go figure. Having a blog has been one means of working through my own issues, sorting through my own feelings and facts and processing what is going on in my own life, more so than a communique or manifesto to the outside world or a tool for touching and impacting other lives. </p><p align="left">Yet I asked myself last night, what would it look like if I followed in the steps of "Save His Girls"s author, and used it to post on issues relevant to young women, and from a perspective that thinks outside what they're getting all the time. Instead of self-reflecting rambling,<br />what about actually showing some purpose in what I write? What would that look like, if I chose to be so disciplined as to stick to it (something I really struggle with)?<br /><br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560921975925704114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiipcEa8rG0Nhg1UfSKUJhA1prIFfO08NYmm2Sunek6xPSgPWcJ-A6hf7_VhHAOei52TE1d7KoXvzFSP2uSzy8IsP9qeqnC5te509FFSG9H5c0BjNhJh5ZzlXP4-WTxyiiQJUpr/s320/3+teenage+girls.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />There are so many things I want the young women in my life to know, and that I wish I had the words to communicate to them - things like life is more than worrying about the modesty of your Sunday school outfit, it's about making sure you're at Sunday School because you desire to learn from God rather than want to appease your parents. Life isn't about "Don't drink, don't chew and don't go with boys who do". It's about seeing Christ in every life around us, and honoring that dignity while encouraging holiness in those we are closest to. Life isn't as sheltered as you've been raised to believe, and the sooner you can see the world for all it's broken fragility and vulnerability, the sooner you'll gain a heart to venture deep into it, into the scary unknowns, and affect some change. If I had one wish for the young women in my life, it's that they would live with the courage to venture into places unknown, the skill to reach into lives untouched and the intimacy with God to do it from His heart and with His strength. If I had one wish for them, it would be that even now they would stop hearing messages that encourage, whether consciously or not, the thought pattern that life is about who you're married to and how many kids you have and what Moms group you attend, but that life is about how you let God flow through your hands and feet and mouth, how you see the world through His eyes and how you fearlessly get out there and do something to make it more like His kingdom. Whether you're playing KTIS or wearing a long enough skirt while doing it aren't nearly as important as just doing it, and I want to tell them that.<br /><br />So, not to rip off a friend or anything, but because this has been something I've wanted to do for over a year, and I've let laziness hinder me from doing it, I'm starting a new blog, an offshoot if you will, aimed specifically for young women, Christian or not, to address the issues and challenges and situations that they are facing every day, and not just the ones we perceive they might have to deal with. One that they can post questions or comments to anonymously, and one that authentically and truthfully examines what they're dealing with without judgement or preconceived notions of what a good Christian girl should look like, think like or act like. A safe haven for their thoughts and (hopefully) an inspiration for their future dreams. I haven't decided on a name yet, and am still hoping and praying for a blog makeover, for both this one and the new one. But I've given myself a deadline of getting it set up within the week, and will keep y'all posted here once it goes up. I'm open to suggestions immediately, both on name, topic, and anything else you think should be included in this mission, this venture if you will. I'm also asking for accountability from my more faithful readers, since as I mentioned, stick-to-itiveness is something I generally lack.<br /><br />More than anything, I hope that as you read this, you think to lift up in prayer the young women in your life, and ask God not just to protect them, which I know He faithfully and lovingly does, but to inspire them to dream big, to live bigger and to live a life of worship and full fledged service to the biggest God we know. He deserves all that we have, and they deserve nothing less than our hearts, time, love and support. For me, this is my calling, and I pray that I can somehow live it out on a daily basis. And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26066574.post-48459349316071276502011-01-05T23:03:00.005-06:002011-01-05T23:47:18.373-06:00Life Is What You Make Of ItI should keep this brief, because I'm afraid if I don't, I'm gonna regret it.<br /><br />I had an interesting talk with a friend today, and she continued to expound, after a similar chat last week, on all the reasons she loves being single. I wholeheartedly agree - being single is amazing! I love the freedom, the Independence, the lack of responsibility that comes in the shape of having to think of another person's needs and wants before my own. Sound selfish? It might be, and my friend and I agreed that oftentimes being single is the easy way out. Easy because it requires no change, no sacrifice, and for the most part it breeds a lack of qualities such as compromise and selflessness. The marriages that I've seen, while rewarding, seem like a lot of hard work, requiring a level of sacrifice and vulnerability and patience that I can't even imagine. I've heard the payout is amazing - a shared life, trust, unity, intimacy, having a partner to do life with, having children and so on and so forth. I'm pretty sure both situations have their pro's and con's, however, having a limited perspective, I definitely fall into the "Singleness Rules!!!" camp.<br /><br />But as I was sitting here, reflecting on all the ways that being single is great, and all the things about it that I love, I realized that the only real thing about single that I don't appreciate is having to go to bed alone. It is never till I have to go hit the hay that my singleness ever stares me back in the face. It is then that I truly feel, and am, alone. I can fill up my day with people, and service, and a million other things that keep my time and attention occupied. But it isn't till I'm tucked in (by myself of course, since there's no one to tuck me in), and in the quiet stillness that comes before sleep that I ever wish I wasn't single. I'm not sure why, exactly, since I've slept alone my entire life. The solitude of an empty bed, of not having another face to say good night and good morning to, and the deep buried longing that it brings to the surface in me, is inexplicable.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558944767874916322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2QQ002E_UsxP3IKddsczodfOLqSZL04Hbgw1wCgTEjepSCZiXKjg6uMv6ejU_HhdPVb3R5tLJRn6gJcjpiPFp9UR1LxPwTJmWR08RJMkU_cZbNT89mdmn7dfzxcf-QPVDvlNo/s320/384ef1e81d14589d_2.jpg" /><br />Or is it? I mean, I know all the schtuff about how we, as people, were not created to be alone. We are relational beings, needed company and conversation and community. I get how that makes sense and do not try to deny that at times, I have thrown it in God's face as a pseudo-argument for my own discontentment. But I'm not discontent now, as a matter of fact, I'm hardly willing to part with my life as I know it, I like it so much. In talking with said friend, I mentioned to her that it would take one helluva man to make me want a relationship more than I want my quiet solitude and the peacefulness of my single life. (By the way, I feel like when I say things like that, I sound like a 65 year old man, living in a great big house alone with nothing but his jazz records and cardigans and gardening for company). So, what is it about this bewitched hour? This cerebrally unaccounted for period? This, this, BEDTIME???<br /><p>I'm not sure, but I do know this, as I head off to sleep soon, after a lovely evening spent enjoying the three B's - Bronte (Charlotte), Beer and Buckley (Jeff, that is), I pray that sleep comes swift and heavy. I hope that there is no time between my head hitting the pillow and my consciousness shutting down, for me to think or dwell on, or even recognize this lacking element in my life. Because after all, life is what you make of it, and I have a pretty good life as far as things go and I don't plan on finding anything to regret about it. I may be sleeping alone, but as far as perspective goes, it's not the end of the world, or anything to get worked up about. As a matter of fact, in the big picture sleeping alone is not something I want to lose any sleep over. And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. </p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02086274035245248733noreply@blogger.com0