Thoughts on Kissing - Yeah, We're Going There Again

So, the other day I posted some thoughts about kissing, and boundaries, and waiting for the right person, etc, etc, etc. Little did I know they would have the effect they did, on more than one person. Within the course of one day I had two good friends applaud me for my transparency and raw honesty, and a former pastor scold me for the bad example I was setting being so open about sexual issues (kissing? really?) as a youth sponsor, and a role model to young women.

In the heat of the moment, I took down the blog post, as I fed into the worry he generated about what the young people I love so much would think of me. But in hindsight, I realized, if anything, they'd know that they have a friend and mentor who can be honest about her desire to be kissed, her past mistakes of a few bad kisses, and her hopes that someday the right guy, and the right kisses will come along. I remembered that though a kiss is not just a kiss, sometimes, it's not the end of the world either. So I went to repost the blog entry, only to find out it was lost and gone forever. Maybe there's something good in that - because it made me revisit what I wrote, and mull over much, much more in my head.

You see, I had written that a kiss is NOT just a kiss. A kiss is something deeply personal, and intimate, between two people. Drew Barrymore, my fellow LA hippie girl, once said "Kissing - and I mean like yummy, smacking kissing - is the most delicious, the most beautiful, and the most passionate thing that two people can do. Bar none. Better than sex. Hands down." My friend JC commented the other day that not even prostitutes kiss, because of the intimacy of the act. But I think he's seen Pretty Woman too many times. Kissing, you see, is a big deal. And that's the point I think my former pastor was trying to make.

In my post, I copped up to the fact that I'd recently been kissed. Or as I like to think of it, my face had been hijacked - because it most definitely was not a kiss I initiated or invited. And in the end, frankly, it wasn't all that great of a kiss either. It was, in my very firm opinion, a waste of a kiss. A waste of a very precious, valuable thing - something I'm saving for someone who really deserves it. And it was also the end of the chances I was giving a guy I'd been seeing. Anyone who would steal a kiss from me, and not respect that my kisses are something I'm saving up doesn't deserve to date me, and would probably never respect me on other issues (such as boundaries) as well. I saw that, and I dumped him. Via text, but still.

If there is a bad example set in this moment, and in blogging about being kissed, all I can see that it would be is this - I went out with a guy, and gave him multiple chances, even though I think I knew in the back of my mind and in my heart, that he wasn't God's best for me. But I'm a pushover, a softie, a nice girl, and I believe everyone deserves a fair chance. Maybe only because I hope that someday some guy will give me a fair chance, even if I make a horrible first impression, or if at first he's not attracted to something about me. But, the real mistake I made in this situation, wasn't being kissed, wasn't writing about being kissed, it was putting myself in a situation with a guy who would steal a kiss from me and fooling myself into thinking that second best was good enough.

Ladies, my dear friends, and you young women who read my blog - know this: There are amazing, wonderful, godly, phenomenal guys out there, who love the Lord, and who will love you too. Please don't do like I did, and waste your time giving chances to guys that your heart tells you don't fall into that category. I think of the really quality guys I know - the M's and the T's and the J's among a few - and I know in my heart that these are guys who would never in a million years steal a kiss from a girl without her consent, and without a heart full of love and respect behind it. I am blessed, in an rich, overflowing way, with the example and friendship of God-fearing young men around me, and I can say, that any of them would be worth saving your kisses for. There are guys out there that are worth all the kisses in the world. Don't waste your time on the frogs who aren't.

Life is a wonderful gift we've been given. Every moment is packed with potential and possibilities to show God's love and grace to a hurting world in new and enriching ways. And all those cliches. But they're only cliche's because they're true. If I could tell the young women in my life one other thing, it would be this - don't sit around waiting to be kissed either. Go out there, and find someone hurting, someone doubting, someone without the love of the Lord, and let His love flow through you, maybe not in kisses, but in some other tangible way. Find a baby without a home, and kiss on them. Find an elderly person, in a home, and kiss their wrinkled hand. Find a way to give a kiss, your love, part of your life, to someone in need of Christ today. Those are kisses we absolutely should not save.

Psalm 85:10 says "Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other." Proverbs 24:26 says "An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips". Five times the New Testament tells us to greet one another with a holy kiss, and yet I think 1 Peter 5:14 says it best, "Greet one another with a kiss of love. Peace to all of you who are in Christ." See, kisses are such a good thing!! In the right context, with the right motives, and for the right reasons.

I have peace with having been kissed last week. Because I know I didn't ask for it, or even want it, and because it was the catalyst to remember that I don't have to settle for a guy who won't respect my views on kissing, on faith or on anything else of great importance to me. Getting kissed by a guy I was considering with hesitation and doubt, and some regret, was enough to remind me that my kisses are precious, because they can be holy, and a means for good and joy. It's those kind of kisses that I will continue to save. In the meantime, I am okay with the kisses I've wasted, and the mistakes I've made, because I know I've learned my lesson, and am moving on with an attitude of righteousness in this area. Drew Barrymore also once said "Life is very interesting. In the end, some of your greatest pains become your greatest strengths." Who knew she was such a genius?

Maybe some day, God will bring along a great guy, who feels the same way about kissing and boundaries and holiness as I do. But I'm not betting the farm on it. Because even if I end up like Miss Barrymore/Josie Grossie (Never Been Kissed! Get it?? Anyone? Bueller?), being kissed is not the biggest deal in the world, nor is it the barometer for the love we have in our hearts, and are able to share. And sharing that love with the world around me is something no stupid guy, no former pastor with good intentions, no one at all, can stop me from doing. And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

The Love Project

So, as anyone within a ten foot radius of me in the last month well knows, I’m a huge advocate of asking God how much He loves me. I must sound like a little kid to Him, constantly asking Him “Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me?”. “Hey, me again. Do you love me? Ok, just checking.” Ummm, insecure much?

Yeah, I totally am painfully insecure, and am not a person who realizes she’s loved easily. Even when people will tell me that, tangibly, to my face, as in the case of my amazing bestie K, I often think it’s more lip service, and something we say like “I’m American, therefore I’m Christian”, than the real thing. For instance, “I love you Trin” translates in my brain as “I put up with you, cuz we’re friends. And you’re just ok”. But what does it really mean to be loved, wildly loved by the Creator of this universe? That’s something I’m still discovering, through the beautiful relationship my Heavenly Father has cultivated with me.

I ask Him all the time to remind me He loves me. And sometimes it’s through pink sunrises and Newsboys songs that He answers me. Sometimes it’s through His word, like being reminded that “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17 or something). Other times it’s an inescapable feeling of peace and being cradled in the palm of His great big hand, like one of those Anne Geddes pictures of tiny babies dressed up like vegetables and what not. Usually that happens as I’m falling asleep, and I have to tell you, there’s nothing better to fall asleep to. At all.

But this past weekend, a speaker at a retreat I was at shared something that at first I thought was totally cheesy, but has been on my mind to do today. I’m gonna call it “The Love Project” and I’m totally ripping it off from her.

Here’s the 411 on The Love Project. Every day I’m going to write a different post-it note to myself, with one way that God shows me how He loves me. This is great, because I just got a brand new pack of super-bright, Caribbean color-schemed, Super-Sticky Post-It notes. Thank you Jesus & 3M. They're the classic 3”x3” size too. I do get a little fanatical about my office supplies, I’m not gonna lie to you.

So, Thursday I did my first one. My first TLP note, and I dated it and in my heart, I said “God, what’s one way I know you love ME?” And I wrote down “Pink sunrises and the perfect Wreck from Potbelly”. Come on let’s face it, I’m not always the deepest.

But I know that for the next few months, or years or however long this goes, I will have plenty of fodder, plenty of stuff to write down. Here’s a few that come to mind, to get me started:

• Ummm, helloooo.... He died on the cross! Dur.
• He didn’t just stay there, but He rose again, and is making a place for us to be with Him forever.
• And I’m pretty sure it’s gonna rock.
• He Reigns by the Newsboys
• Pink Sunrises
• Jeremiah 31:3&4 “The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful.”
• The smell of babies’ heads.
• Chloe, when she smiles at me. That baby has an amazing, light up the room smile.
• Every time Celia asks me to have another sleepover at my house.
• Ephesians 5:1-2 “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
• A hug from M – she really means it & holds on tight.
• Glee songs
• Romans 8. All of it.
• Falling asleep to tears as I know He holds me (see cradled in the palm of His hand reference above)
• Hearing from K that she’s still my best friend and biggest cheerleader
• The perfect Campfire Mocha, with lots of marshmallows.
• Knowing that He does not deal with me according to my transgressions, but has given me a huge heaping measure of grace and mercy, beyond what I could ever deserve, ask for or imagine. I am sooooo not punished like I need to be. Whew.
• Just stopping to think about it all. His love, that is.
• Going to the MIA.
• Art in general
• Colossians 3:12-15 “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.”
• Just Haven’t Met You Yet by Michael Buble…. And the knowledge that if God has a husband for me, I just haven’t met him yet. Look, God supplies all my needs according to His riches in Jesus Christ, so if I really needed a husband, well by golly, I’d have one already. Till then, I’m not sweating it …. I just haven’t met him yet, or ever, but either way, good song, great God.
• Being called “kid” or “kiddo”
• When people guess my age, and they get it wrong, thinking I’m younger than I am. Ok, I’m vain, I know. But I can thank God for good aging genes, can’t I? There’s joy in being content with what God made you look like. Yeah, I want it to be better (skin care product freak, getting back to the Y!!), but I thank Him when I think of looking 5 or 6 years younger than I really am, and only having one grey hair.
• Defying Gravity, or for that matter, a good Aria.
• All Creatures of Our God & King.
• The way Caravaggio painted Christ.
• Laughing with T - well, really just when T laughs
• Shivers when I worship
• Tigers – and not the kind you find in your bathroom, but just the way they move and their soft orange slinkiness
• Snowflakes – the big, crystalline kind
• Loaded Potatoes – the girls, not the food
• Fireplace fires
• Finding money in the back pocket of my jeans.

There’s more y’all. Lots more. And maybe some of this is a stretch. I mean, Glee songs? But, the point is, there are just some things that bring me joy, and make me stop and thank God for them.

I know that He could have given us a world of grey nothingness. No beauty. No sunrises. No tigers. No snow days, No Caravaggio. No light, no bright, no music, nothing that was beautiful or awe inspiring, or even that just makes us smile. But our God is, among other things, indescribably beautiful. And He delights in making beauty and watching us enjoy it. He loves music, and joy, and smiles, and all good things. He has created a lot, and said it was all good. He gave us the ability to smell, to feel (touch), to taste, to hear, to see. I acknowledge that He’s got an amazing sense of humor, probably rocks out to the songs of the saints, and adores babies and puppies. How awesome is He?

And that makes me love Him – as Stephanie Smith sang, not for His wonders, but for who He is. I am crazy in love with a God that loves life that much. And you know what? I’m pretty sure He loves me too.

So I Did It!!!

So I did it. I got up there and spoke last weekend. For those of you just tuning in, to my life not as much as my blog, I mean at Village Creek Bible Camp (shout out to EYE-OH-WAAHHH!!), and at the All Girls Retreat.

In retrospect, what was the big deal anyways? Well, really, I think my nervousness was more about what God was doing in my own life, with desiring vulnerability and authenticity from me than a fear to speak publicly. Add to that the fact that I’ve been, for years now but also more recently, hiding my fears and perceived weaknesses about who I am as a woman, behind sarcasm and “being cool” and I think that He is working in me to break these walls down before I even got up to speak. As He began revealing these areas of desired submission and surrender to me in the last few weeks I realized it was more growth with and through Him that I was nervous about, than a bunch of spazzy junior high girls who didn’t get ONE of my jokes or pop culture references. Man I felt old.


But, it went well, I suppose. I had the much valued support of K, R, T & M in the audience, and their great big smiles kept me going, as a visual reminder of how my Father was smiling down too. Most of all I just wanted to share the fact that He has a Love Story with all of us, with me, with you, with these girls.

As a basis for some of what I shared, I used the love story between God and Israel as exemplified by Gomer and Hosea. Oh Gomer, you crazy ho! Yet, how much are any of us more faithful than she was? And because God is good, I knew later on in the weekend that He was desiring this story to be told, when one of the other speakers for Sunday began speaking out of the same book. Granted she prefaced it with tons of comments like “Nobody EVER speaks or preaches out of Hosea”, and “I know you guys NEVER hear from the book of Hosea, so this must be new to you, but … “ It was all I could do to not laugh and think “Oh sweetheart, if you had been there, not even 12 hours ago, you would have heard the exact same verses, and been able to see God’s goodness, as He speaks the same message through two totally different people”.

But my quiet snickers and chuckles must have said plenty, because before I knew it, H was kicking my chair and keeping me in line. All I could think was “Good thing Matt’s not here”. Yeah, I may be asking God to work in my life, but getting off my sarcastic, too cool for school high horse is going to be a project for months to come.

Anyways, I digress. Getting back to Hosea and Gomer. In the few days since I’ve come home from camp, I’ve been asking the Lord to make my personal relationship with Him more real in my life than it’s ever been. My big fear is that I will use this relationship with Him as a source of inspiration to draw from in ministry, or He would be the One I go to when I need something to pull out of my hat or to get the things in life that I want. Instead, I want to fall more and more in love with Him daily, and love Him as I would my dearest and bestest friend, even more than a husband or lover. Today, as I was praying that, and asking Him to remind me to love Him more, this song came on, this song that I love, and that sometimes says it all. Man, God’s timing is perfect!

Of Minor Prophets & Their Prostitute Wives
by Pedro The Lion

All the time you were burning my letters
you were only acting the part
You think without me you'll get on much better
but you don’t even know your own heart

Come home, darling
Come home quickly
Come home, darling
All is forgiven, so come home quickly

I treated you as if you were a princess
you treated me like a cop
I gave you boundaries to save you from certain death
dangling from the end of the rope

Come home, darling
Come home quickly
Come home, darling
All is forgiven, so come home quickly

But your still playing for a love
you'll never find outside of these arms of mine
The whole town is one step behind you
with the hang man on call
They've got the judge and you're convicted without a plea
Darling, they will listen to me
Darling, they will listen to me
Darling, they will listen to me

The fact is, we serve an amazing, awesome God y’all. And His heart is solely focused on our continued, deep relationship with Him, as the foremost most important aspect of our lives. We’ve all walked away from His love, even as Christians, seeking other gods, other loves. But there is nothing He will not do in us to bring us back to Him, in the desert, where He can speak love and tenderness to us.

Looking back at the last few months, and of course hindsight is 20/20, I can clearly see how He’s been moving and pushing me further towards righteousness, growth and personal relationship with Him. Oh, not to mention, once again, that awful, icky V word – vulnerability, but I think that’s another post for another day.

I can see for sure that He really isn’t going to let me get away with not being the woman He’s calling me to be. I’m grateful for His faithfulness. And I trust Him. Implicitly. So, since this is Your desire, God, I guess all I can say is “Bring it on”. You say “Darling they will listen to me”, but I am saying “Father, I will listen to You.”

Bright Shiny Objects

I think I'm a slave to bright, shiny objects. Not the real, glittery bird distracted by the sunlight off a piece of foil kind kind of things. But that's what I call the all the little things that are grabbing my attention from God at rapid gun-fire like pace these days. Those things that are sooooo effective at taking away my attention from the one true thing I'm trying to drill into my thick skull lately, and that is just how much He really loves me. Really, really loves me a lot. And how I'm called to act in light of that amazing, undeserved love.

There's not many, but man are there enough. Glee on dvd, sleep, a big crush, trying to learn my new job at work, the overwhelming desire to peruse the sales rack at the Gap. Oh, the Gap, with their trixy little "Take up to 70% Off" sign that lingers out front, beckoning with it's subtle font and understated lettering. Curse you Gap - you get too much of me to begin with. But no matter how minute and trite, or how meaningful any of these things are (Who am I kidding? With the exception of work and the crush, they're all a bit shallow.), they all seem to grab my focus and attention with a strength and powerful vice-like grip that only lots of prayer can break.

I'm speaking at an All-Girls retreat this weekend, and probably by the time this posts all my friends are going to be sick and tired of hearing that I'm nervous about it. A good friend reminded me last night that I have nothing to be nervous about, but little does he know. Oh little does he know. I plan on sharing my testimony there - the full waterworks of what God has done in my life and how out of His great, big, tremendous love He has redeemed me out of a past filled with abusive parents (crrraaaazy abusive parents), years spent chasing affection and attention from guys in most unnaceptable ways, and the belief system that true acceptance came from what I did or looked like or acted like when I thought people were watcing. It's a sad, messy story, and I'm about to share it with young women and staff members who I admire and respect, and who frankly, I don't really feel like being vulnerable and honest in front of. And I'm going to do this while trying to convey the beautiful message of how much our Lord really loves them, and calls them Daughter and Bride, even when it's a message it takes every ounce of my own energy to hear and comprehend. The neat thing is - the truth must be said, for if I didn't rocks would cry out His love.

Sadly, as I'm prepping for this weekend though, whether reading or writing, all I can I keep thinking is - if I get up there and tell this story, I better make sure I at least look good, so I better hit up the Gap this week and see if I can find something cute to wear, like those new skinny jeans or new boots, so they don't think I'm a total loser and not hear a word I'm saying because the sweater I'm wearing has pill balls under the arms or my recently outgrown jeans are too baggy and have grandma butt. Oh, and while I'm at it, how about another episode of Glee, to help me relax and laugh as I try and unwind after my hectic, stressful day at work. Yummmm, Caribou. Yeah, that.

URGH!! I'm telling y'all, bright shiny objects. These are not necessarily bad things, but these are the things that are keeping me from spending even more time with the Lord, and getting the full weight and gravity of what He is doing, and wants to speak to me. I love hearing His voice, that still small whisper. That unmistakable whisper that speaks to my heart with wisdom, comfort and power. If I could just throw all the bright shiny objects to the bottom of the sea, I'm sure then I could hear that voice much louder. But who am I kidding?

Because through it all, despite the ways that even today I have messed up, and been distracted, and walked away from the soft whisper of God's loving voice, I know in my heart, and in my head, and with the full confidence to share, that Christ's love for us is so vast, and deep that oceans of oceans of oceans couldn't hold it. The heavens themselves, full of stars and mysteries, cannot contain it. And my measly little distracted, girly mind cannot comprehend it, truly, ever. I can't throw away all my bright shiny objects. They'd just reappear like some scene out of Groundhogs Day. Some of them I would never want to throw away either - I like my job and that guy I have a crush on. But I can just ask God to turn my attention from those things that compete for my eye and focus it instead upon Himself, waiting there, patiently, silently, ready to whisper, ready to speak, ready to love.

If whispers looked like vapors, or fogggy air breathed on a cold winter's night, I'm pretty sure that God's whisper-like voice would sparkle like diamonds and snowflakes on silvery clouds of light. And for now, that is one bright, shiny object I want to sit and stare at all day long. Oooh, look .....

Why I'll Never Be A Good Christian Girl, And It's Prolly Not Why You Think.

So, if you’ve been keeping up here lately, you’ll know that I’m on this Joy kick. It all started a few weeks ago, on the Bike 2 Camp trip, when a good friend (ok, R for Roommate) was struggling with some interpersonal conflict with another person/group of people, and I was processing with him about not letting turd-like-people rob you of the chance to experience joy in your surroundings or your service. The whole “robbed of joy” cliché has been so overused in the Christian community, and yet as I said it to him, I realized I hardly had an idea of what it meant. I felt bad for even using it, at the time.

So, I started processing a lot about joy, and a few posts and weeks later there you have it.
In all this processing, one of the things that happened was that an insatiable urge to read and devour books about this Christian walk surfaced in a way that was unexpected and unprecedented for me. Usually I try to avoid a lot of the “Christian literature” out there, for the fact that I just get frustrated by all the ignorant hype, the fact that marketing to a solely Christian audience feels more like selling crappy animals in the temple, and how eager the Christian community is to pass off anything Jesus-related as a life-altering necessity, when in fact a lot of it is just repetitive, small-scope, Americanized bunko. Three books you definintely will not find on my bookshelf are The Purpose Driven Life, The Prayer of Jabez, and The Shack. Urgh.

And while I may be throwing out the baby with the bathwater, my temper boils whenever I walk into a Northwestern Bookstore and see aisles of cheesy sloganed tee shirts, clichéd fridge magnets and even Christian breathmints (because you know, they must use Holy Water in making them or something, as if Orbitz is just too risqué with their lewd and provactive commercials). To even mention the fact that most of the women in there look like they just stepped out of a circa 1974 Sears catalog & should be driving a 15 passenger van full of their Quiver-full homeschooled brood, instead of normal, respectable, moderately fashionable people, would be besides the point, and only make me look like a GAP (*gasp of shock*) snob. Does that make me, somehow, not a Good Christian Girl? Oh well.

But despite my personal opinions (and that’s all they are) about modern Christian lit and culture, and “exclusive to the saved” bookstores, I picked up a few books from the library before my recent trip, and within days had polished them both off. The first one, “Save Me From Myself: How I Found God, Quit Korn, Kicked Drugs & Lived To Tell My Story”, by Brian “Head” Welch was a pretty easy read, as ¾ of it was the author telling of the depravity of his life in the rock & roll scene, before he started following Jesus. The last ¼ of the book was filled with a sweetness that one senses in a child, starting wide eyed in wonder at a field of flowers all around him. That’s the sense I got as Head talked about the love he has for his Savior and Friend, Jesus, and the appreciation in his heart as someone who truly has been “saved”. It was not the intellectual think tank proposal of the year, but a good read nonetheless.

The next book I read was “The Myth of Christian Religion” by Greg Boyd. This was a great glimpse into the work of Boyd, who I’ve been curious about for quite a while. And while there were parts of this call to rebellion against anything incompatable with the way of following Jesus that felt more liberal than what I expected, it wasn’t anything that played out for it’s own sake. Rather, it was a completely valid argument to embrace a practical view on practicing the presence of God, which sounds more cliché than it was in the book. Anyway, more on that to come, and not because there wasn’t much to discuss in this passionate plea to the church but because the one book out of the four I’ve finished in the last fortnight that I really wanted to get into and yet was most skeptical about was Velvet Elvis, by Rob Bell.

And though I’d love to begin a review of Velvet Elvis right here and now, I found that I had so much to say about it, and went off on so many bunny trails because of all the subjects that it brought to the forefront of my mind, that I had to split my review of it into two additional blog posts. They follow ….. wait for it …. NOW!

This is bad! Crushes & Autism & Jesus, Oh my!

I have a crush. I do. I am trying soooo hard not to though. So hard, really. But when I get like this, all girly and dreamy-eyed, I'm just a complete dork who can't string two words together into a coherent sentence. And I look like a goofy faced koala bear all hopped up on eucalyptus leaves and daydreams with a big, silly grin on my face.



I really hope this doesn't last too long. I need to snap out of this pink swirly clouded fog and come back to the reality that I really don't think he is that into me. Of course, I did balance all this self-doubt with a good chat with my best guy friend this morning, in which I related all the details every conversation we've ever had, and every look he's ever given me, and everything he's ever done, etc. I made him listen to every little nuanced detail, and at the end he came quite close to bopping me upside the head and saying "Are you kidding me? He likes you. You can't see that?" No, honestly I can't. I mean, there's no way on earth I could ever get that lucky, cuz this guy is Qual-i-ty! I still don't believe, and would like to move on past this as soon as possible, please. Preferably into a big glass of Cabernet and a good book.



Anyways, 'nuff said. What I really got excited about today was the fact that Time.com posted an article today stating that researchers are finding links to autism even as early as infancy. This is huge!



For most parents, the first age of concern over a potentially autistic child's behavior is around 18 months, but the typical age for diagnosis isn't till about 3. That's a pretty big gap to be left wondering, as a parent, if your child is ok. And while researchers are finding that there are "clues" that infants and young toddlers are giving that are signs of autism related disorders, they're also saying that 18 months is too early for a concrete diagnosis. Understandably, all babies develop differently, and show interest in varied objects or actions. And the signs that characterize autism, such as delayed speech or repetitive motion or fixation on a specific object or toy, are skills that babies as young as 18 months have not fully developed yet. The article states that instead of using what is there to identify autism at such an early age, doctors are using what isn't present in a babies behavior to diagnose it. I guess that makes sense.



Yet, as I read this article, I was struck by the sheer injustice of this sentence "Among the telltale signs of trouble at 12 months: ....lack of joyful expression". Of course, an absence of babbling, lack of eye contact, and staring at inanimate objects for too long are also signs, but really? Lack of a joyful expression? I may be over reacting (I really don't think I am), but that kind of injustice is indicative of the fall of man to me. If there is any creature alive under heaven or earth that should have a joyful expression it's babys!! To me, the saddest thing in the whole world is a sad baby. Or one that lacks a joyful expression. Nothing makes me more passionately vehement!

Yet, amongst this sad news, comes acknowledgement by a trusted media source that early intervention can prevent or reduce the development of Autism symptoms. While it's true that researchers strongly suggest early intervention as a key to improving the outcome for at-risk infants and toddlers, it's so reassuring to hear Time.com state it in the face of so many skeptics who deny that fact. The Austism community has long held the view that at-risk children can be prevented from becoming fully autistic through early assistance and strong intervention, such as GF/CF diet or parental interaction exercises. To see it in print in a mainstream magazine is not a little victory.



Now, speaking of autism, as you can often find me doing, has anyone else seen this post, of Jason McElwain, the autistic high schooler from New York, who scored 20 points in four minutes during is one and only stint in his team's high school basketball game? What an awesome kid. You have to watch this! I cried. Yeah, I do that a lot though. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fw1CcxCUgg



Ok, so on to wrapping things up. Before I go, I am lifting up a challenge to myself, at the prompting of the Lord through the words of others and the conviction in my own heart. To start writing again.



I've been hearing a lot lately, and from varied sources, that I need to start writing, and I don't just mean here, on my blog. I know they're only recycling what my Jesus in my heart tells me all the time, yet it's a message I can't seem to ignore lately.



Even the UCE, an accomplished writer himself, said something along those lines recently, when he wrote me on Facebook and said:



"On a semi-related note, why didn't i know you had a blog?"



Ummmm, maybe because I never told you, so I could write about you on it.



"I hope you don't feel like I was peeking into your head or anything,",



Yeah, I kind of did.



"But I have a couple things to say: 1. For what its worth, I'm sorry about being the UCE. It was never my intention to make you feel unappreciated or ignored. You deserved better than I gave you - and I'm not just saying that because (censored for privacy's sake) - I'm saying it to my friend Trinette, who I wronged. I am sorry. 2. You're a hell of a writer. You should write more. You have a tremendous talent for making me smile, and making me feel what you feel when you write. (I should know, I spent the last hour reading this stuff) You are self depreciating without being self-pitying, tremendously entertaining, and incredibly brave in your honesty, and thats incredibly cool. You have great tastes, and keep me interested enough to read the next posts - even when I know they're about shoes . . . Well done. Seriously."



Ok, so I didn't have to post the first thing he wrote. I know that. But after spending about two years of my life caring deeply about this guy, holding out for him to change his mind about what was going on with us, then being led on and crushed more than a few times, as well as the 100% confirmed, official, world's worst Valentines Day e-card, I kind of am thinking he deserved it just a tad. He's a solid guy, really, and a fantastic writer, and I used to be just crazy about him. But he's right, I deserve better. And well maybe so does he.



Anyways, he is a guy who's opinion I value very much, and who's taste I find darn near awesome! Culturally, he's everything I wish I could be, and so to have him critique my writing so favorably was a huge compliment for me. One ladled with meaning and one I don't take lightly. J - for that, thank you.



Then, in the last week, two other wonderful women of God have reiterated the same thought - you should be writing. I went to bed all hopped up on Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi last night, and didn't get a wink of sleep thinking about all the things I want to write about, and all I have to share. And yes, my new crush. But seriously, this writing thing - I can't get it out of my head!

I made the confession to one of my friends yesterday that the reason I don't write seriously is because I feel I don't know how, and am too lazy or scared to do anything about it. No sooner did I post that on my facebook status this morning than the husband of an old friend emailed me to say he's teaching Creative Writing classes this month in Stillwater? What??? Really God? Awesome!



This is a huge challenge for me, and one that I'm willing to take. After spending the last few months asking God to show me my gifts (I've got to be able to do more than just cook), and to show me how someone as craptastic as me could possibly glorify Him, I'm starting to see that when we ask, He answers. And I can't deny His voice.



So I want to do this. I want to learn, and to be heard. I have a story to tell, and I'm not sure what it is. If it's about me, then whoah, I can't do this in my own strength and without being broken and humbled. I really don't want to. But, if it's to just tell young women, whom I have such a strong heart for, how wonderful they are in God's eyes, how He dances over them with joy, how He cherishes their attention, then I embrace it wholeheartedly. I just ask the Lord to please tell me the story, and let me listen hard enough, eyes squinting closed, to hear it and tell it right.



I thrill at the prospect of a life filled with meaning. Maybe the crush does like me. Maybe one day I will be a real writer. Maybe one day I can change the life of just one child with autism, preferably my own nephew's. There's so much potential floating out there in the world, like specks of dust in a hazy summer light. I want to run and catch it all in my arms, and whatever I end up with is good enough for me, oh my.