September 30, 2009
I brought a bag of chips with me from the cupboard, sat down at the computer, and wondered what I would write about. I started eating my chips, one handful after the other. I realize this is not the picture of healthful eating in progress, because I am pretty sure that how I was eating was pretty mindless, not paying any attention whatsoever to the food being brought to my mouth at first. I was opening Blogger, typing passwords, looking at the "blogs I follow" on the opening page and all, and thinking about my blog entry to come instead of focusing on the eating part. But whoa, it wasn't long before my food got my attention. And I knew what to write about.
My chips, if you've ever had them, then you'd know why they suddenly caught my attention. They're Kettle Brand Chips, Spicy Thai flavor. The thing about these chips is that you start eating them, and they seem very sweet and flavorful and beautifully seasoned with parsley. Then WHAM... they hit you. HOTTT! :) When I saw "spicy" on the label, I kinda was thinking more that they were really filled with "spice- y", savory flavors, rather than HOT spicy. I love hot, but they surprised me, and now there are unexpected flames shooting from my tongue.
Now, where am I going?
You see, it instantly occurred to me that it's exactly how I read the Bible. I open it often without expectation or looking for something sweet and savory, and then WHAM! I am hit with something that really gets my attention. Something I read is challenging, or I get an unexpected feeling of awe, or something altogether that I needed to hear just at that very moment to change the way I've been doing things. Something falls on me in a new way, and I am instantly jolted into action, into prayer, into confession, or into rejoicing. The Word of God is living and active, and sharper than any two-edged sword... but it never gets stale.
I pray that my studying, as I have been doing research for a book I am writing (why my blogs have been few and far-between) that it would become addictive, as well... that it would be what I want first, before any distraction, and that the Spirit would be hot on my tongue that I would be at the ready to speak of the mighty deeds of God.
12For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Have a quiet time....
The fewer words the better prayer. ~Martin Luther
The kids are talking about prayer in Kidz Place this month at church. They get sent home a paper that summarizes what they've been learning, and it goes on the fridge for remembering throughout the week. On it was the definition of the word "prayer". It said, "prayer is talking and listening to God."
I'm so glad it said that-- listening to God! Praying is two-way commmunication! Listening to God is the best part, and we can't listen if we're too busy talking. Of course, we're to praise him and pour out our hearts to Him (psalm 62:8) as a drink offering, but we have to let Him consume them and purify us, that we would be filled with His Spirit. I think that requires a pause.
I love this song, and it has a line in it that says "I tried to hear from heaven, but I talked the whole time." While we'll never fully understand "Holy" on this side of heaven, He'll reveal Himself little by little as we listen.
The kids are talking about prayer in Kidz Place this month at church. They get sent home a paper that summarizes what they've been learning, and it goes on the fridge for remembering throughout the week. On it was the definition of the word "prayer". It said, "prayer is talking and listening to God."
I'm so glad it said that-- listening to God! Praying is two-way commmunication! Listening to God is the best part, and we can't listen if we're too busy talking. Of course, we're to praise him and pour out our hearts to Him (psalm 62:8) as a drink offering, but we have to let Him consume them and purify us, that we would be filled with His Spirit. I think that requires a pause.
I love this song, and it has a line in it that says "I tried to hear from heaven, but I talked the whole time." While we'll never fully understand "Holy" on this side of heaven, He'll reveal Himself little by little as we listen.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
You've been approved...
September 22, 2009
Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10, NIV
Wow, my readership has gone up a smidge since my last post.
I have to admit, the "gem" of a comment rattled me a little at first. Brad saw it before me, and said, "Uh oh, somebody's slamming you." So, when I read it I was prepared for what was to come, but I hadn't had the experience of someone, not only disagreeing with me, but insulting me and my intelligence at the same time on my blog before.
I am not afraid of her opinion. She's certainly entitled to it. Besides, if I were insecure, I'd have deleted it before anyone else had read it :) .
But here's the thing, readers.
I don't write to please you.
Hate to break it to you, but it's true. Early on I was told a very wise thing while I was a bit discouraged about my very small number of readers (normal when you first start a blog!). This advice has stuck: write for yourself. It's what keeps me writing. Whether you read it or not. (I am glad when you do, but I might not always say things you'll like.)
In the verse I posted up above, Paul talks about seeking people's approval. In the verse, he states that from whom you seek your approval is to whom you are a servant. I know I am freaking a few readers out right now who think they're not a servant to anything or anyone. Again, I hate to break it to you, but we're all a servant to something. Something or someone masters you, whether you'd like to admit it or not. When you try to seek the approval of people, Paul says, you're not serving Christ. You bow down to them, instead of God.
Look at what people-pleasing approval-seeking gets you. Think of the number of bad decisions in your life made in the name of "fitting in" or "avoiding conflict." Oh, I can think of so many-- and that's just high school. Some of these choices were downright dangerous, and had huge consequences. Truly, I think of some of those things I sought before I knew God, and I consider it only by the grace of God to be alive. One time, I risked my very life to avoid my friends' disappointment in me! How nuts is that?! But it happens to people all the time to various degrees.
The catch with seeking people's approval is that it doesn't last. You keep having to seek it again and again. See where the servant thing goes? Again and again you have to keep serving them, keeping them happy, and your approval rating up. Their approval becomes an idol, and you can't serve idols and God at the same time. Think of just how it is when you stop caring what people think! When you dance like no one's watching.... isn't that better?
I don't want you to think either, that God needs his ego puffed up all the time, and needs me to do it. He's omniscent, and He already knows He's God. He doesn't seek my approval. But I am to seek His. And do you know why? Oddly enough, it's for my freedom.
You might be puzzled by just how being a servant (the NASB uses the word bondslave) gives you freedom. Slavery=freedom? Yes. When you put yourself under God's care, you entrust yourself to Someone who loves you unconditionally. Someone who has plans to prosper you and give you a hope and a future. Someone who has loved you before you loved Him and thought about you before the foundation of the world. He approves of you! I think that's a pretty good gig. When you follow Him, it's only for good. And God is pleased when we do choose His way, because it's good.
When I write, I write for myself, to record the wondrous things He's done for me in my life--the polkadots He's given me through his manifold wisdom and grace, in the manifold ways they've appeared. I do that to say, "Gee, thanks, God, that's amazing what You've done for me." And in the hopes that my readers will begin to see polkadots in their lives too. (though, if you're seeing spots, maybe see a doctor.)
And if it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the river, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD. Joshua 24:15
Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ. Galatians 1:10, NIV
Wow, my readership has gone up a smidge since my last post.
I have to admit, the "gem" of a comment rattled me a little at first. Brad saw it before me, and said, "Uh oh, somebody's slamming you." So, when I read it I was prepared for what was to come, but I hadn't had the experience of someone, not only disagreeing with me, but insulting me and my intelligence at the same time on my blog before.
I am not afraid of her opinion. She's certainly entitled to it. Besides, if I were insecure, I'd have deleted it before anyone else had read it :) .
But here's the thing, readers.
I don't write to please you.
Hate to break it to you, but it's true. Early on I was told a very wise thing while I was a bit discouraged about my very small number of readers (normal when you first start a blog!). This advice has stuck: write for yourself. It's what keeps me writing. Whether you read it or not. (I am glad when you do, but I might not always say things you'll like.)
In the verse I posted up above, Paul talks about seeking people's approval. In the verse, he states that from whom you seek your approval is to whom you are a servant. I know I am freaking a few readers out right now who think they're not a servant to anything or anyone. Again, I hate to break it to you, but we're all a servant to something. Something or someone masters you, whether you'd like to admit it or not. When you try to seek the approval of people, Paul says, you're not serving Christ. You bow down to them, instead of God.
Look at what people-pleasing approval-seeking gets you. Think of the number of bad decisions in your life made in the name of "fitting in" or "avoiding conflict." Oh, I can think of so many-- and that's just high school. Some of these choices were downright dangerous, and had huge consequences. Truly, I think of some of those things I sought before I knew God, and I consider it only by the grace of God to be alive. One time, I risked my very life to avoid my friends' disappointment in me! How nuts is that?! But it happens to people all the time to various degrees.
The catch with seeking people's approval is that it doesn't last. You keep having to seek it again and again. See where the servant thing goes? Again and again you have to keep serving them, keeping them happy, and your approval rating up. Their approval becomes an idol, and you can't serve idols and God at the same time. Think of just how it is when you stop caring what people think! When you dance like no one's watching.... isn't that better?
I don't want you to think either, that God needs his ego puffed up all the time, and needs me to do it. He's omniscent, and He already knows He's God. He doesn't seek my approval. But I am to seek His. And do you know why? Oddly enough, it's for my freedom.
You might be puzzled by just how being a servant (the NASB uses the word bondslave) gives you freedom. Slavery=freedom? Yes. When you put yourself under God's care, you entrust yourself to Someone who loves you unconditionally. Someone who has plans to prosper you and give you a hope and a future. Someone who has loved you before you loved Him and thought about you before the foundation of the world. He approves of you! I think that's a pretty good gig. When you follow Him, it's only for good. And God is pleased when we do choose His way, because it's good.
When I write, I write for myself, to record the wondrous things He's done for me in my life--the polkadots He's given me through his manifold wisdom and grace, in the manifold ways they've appeared. I do that to say, "Gee, thanks, God, that's amazing what You've done for me." And in the hopes that my readers will begin to see polkadots in their lives too. (though, if you're seeing spots, maybe see a doctor.)
And if it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the river, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD. Joshua 24:15
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Powered by God
September 17, 2009
Okay, I am composed. But I can't promise I won't cry as I write!
Yesterday I opened the bags of our two teams' soccer jerseys to take out our kids' numbers before we gave them out to the rest of their teams, and I was stunned. I wasn't stunned that they were huge and their jerseys shouldn't be that big yet. While yes, it is quite shocking that Candan's shirt is adult small, and it's true I am not quite ready for him to be a small adult, I was shocked instead by what it said on the front. "Powered by Junk." in great big block letters.
Powered by Junk?
I pictured my precious children wearing shirts saying POWERED BY JUNK on them and I started getting tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't cry, because I was on my way to Toastmasters and I had to keep it together. But the hour was as long as I could hold it back. I got in the car afterwards, and sobbed. Sobbed my ever-lovin' eyes out.
Powered by Junk is the slogan of the company 1-800-got-junk. I don't have a problem with that in itself. Thank you, 1-800-Got-Junk for your wonderful sponsorship! And I get it, cute, the soccer club is powered by their sponsorship, and how they get to play is by the company collecting junk. Yeah, ha ha.
But my soul aches deeply for all of our precious children who won't get the joke.
The world is so full of influence telling them they need more to be more, that they're not good enough, that they're unloved, or unlovable. That what they have inside is unworthy. The whole idea behind the soccer club is to foster self-esteem. Powered by Junk? Oh, my soul aches! What kids have inside of them, powering them, is not junk. Some parents even tell their children that they are junk. And so, we've just validated that.
What's more, is that "junk" is a street term for drugs (which I actually didn't know, but a teacher I had talked to told me so, but I guess it makes sense, because I do know the term "junkie") and schools and sports clubs are all trying to promote good nutrition, and not being powered by "junk" food, either. The slogan just doesn't work for me on many, many levels.
What kids have inside of them is precious and God-given and infinitely more valuable than they know, and even more than a lot of parents, or junk companies, or (fill in the blank) know too.
I went to the soccer office yesterday to mention that yes, while I do get that it is intended to be a joke, that it is at children's expense and that I don't find it funny, and she told me to explain the joke to my kids. So there I am last night, explaining the in's-and-out's of corporate sponsorship to my six-year old. Futility.
I have to say that I expressed my concern to Keelin's age group's soccer coordinator (who didn't pick the shirts!), and she was very understanding and saw exactly where I was coming from, which I really needed, thank you!
When I was a kid, I knew my parents loved me, but somehow it didn't matter. I thought they "had" to love me, or that they just were biased because they were my parents. I just didn't feel good enough. Or "anything" enough. It was much easier to believe the bad stuff about me. Put a JUNK label on me, and oh, I'd believe that, for sure. Things changed as I got older, and now I know that I am important and truly loved, and that God thought about creating me from before He created the world, and that His thoughts of me are constant and uncountable. I know that He has made me and knit me together. And that all the tears I cried yesterday are stored up in a bottle (well, and on my sleeve, too.) I know that He cares for me, and takes care of all my needs.
I want my children (and all the children on soccer fields everywhere!) to know that they are loved too, not just by their mom or their dad, but by the Creator of the universe, who created them from before the world began, and that their tears are stored up too. I want them to know that every breath they draw is a work of the grace and beauty of God. That God is involved in all they do throughout their days. That they are powered, not by junk, but by the Spirit of the living God.
Okay, that's it. I need a kleenex again.
Then the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. Genesis 2:7
1O LORD, You have searched me and known me. 2You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You understand my thought from afar. 3You scrutinize my path and my lying down, And are intimately acquainted with all my ways. 4Even before there is a word on my tongue, Behold, O LORD, You know it all. 5You have enclosed me behind and before, And laid Your hand upon me. 6Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is too high, I cannot attain to it. Psalm 139:1-6 (read the whole psalm here... I had such a time picking verses, it's a beautiful psalm and an instant cure for insecurity!)
Okay, I am composed. But I can't promise I won't cry as I write!
Yesterday I opened the bags of our two teams' soccer jerseys to take out our kids' numbers before we gave them out to the rest of their teams, and I was stunned. I wasn't stunned that they were huge and their jerseys shouldn't be that big yet. While yes, it is quite shocking that Candan's shirt is adult small, and it's true I am not quite ready for him to be a small adult, I was shocked instead by what it said on the front. "Powered by Junk." in great big block letters.
Powered by Junk?
I pictured my precious children wearing shirts saying POWERED BY JUNK on them and I started getting tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn't cry, because I was on my way to Toastmasters and I had to keep it together. But the hour was as long as I could hold it back. I got in the car afterwards, and sobbed. Sobbed my ever-lovin' eyes out.
Powered by Junk is the slogan of the company 1-800-got-junk. I don't have a problem with that in itself. Thank you, 1-800-Got-Junk for your wonderful sponsorship! And I get it, cute, the soccer club is powered by their sponsorship, and how they get to play is by the company collecting junk. Yeah, ha ha.
But my soul aches deeply for all of our precious children who won't get the joke.
The world is so full of influence telling them they need more to be more, that they're not good enough, that they're unloved, or unlovable. That what they have inside is unworthy. The whole idea behind the soccer club is to foster self-esteem. Powered by Junk? Oh, my soul aches! What kids have inside of them, powering them, is not junk. Some parents even tell their children that they are junk. And so, we've just validated that.
What's more, is that "junk" is a street term for drugs (which I actually didn't know, but a teacher I had talked to told me so, but I guess it makes sense, because I do know the term "junkie") and schools and sports clubs are all trying to promote good nutrition, and not being powered by "junk" food, either. The slogan just doesn't work for me on many, many levels.
What kids have inside of them is precious and God-given and infinitely more valuable than they know, and even more than a lot of parents, or junk companies, or (fill in the blank) know too.
I went to the soccer office yesterday to mention that yes, while I do get that it is intended to be a joke, that it is at children's expense and that I don't find it funny, and she told me to explain the joke to my kids. So there I am last night, explaining the in's-and-out's of corporate sponsorship to my six-year old. Futility.
I have to say that I expressed my concern to Keelin's age group's soccer coordinator (who didn't pick the shirts!), and she was very understanding and saw exactly where I was coming from, which I really needed, thank you!
When I was a kid, I knew my parents loved me, but somehow it didn't matter. I thought they "had" to love me, or that they just were biased because they were my parents. I just didn't feel good enough. Or "anything" enough. It was much easier to believe the bad stuff about me. Put a JUNK label on me, and oh, I'd believe that, for sure. Things changed as I got older, and now I know that I am important and truly loved, and that God thought about creating me from before He created the world, and that His thoughts of me are constant and uncountable. I know that He has made me and knit me together. And that all the tears I cried yesterday are stored up in a bottle (well, and on my sleeve, too.) I know that He cares for me, and takes care of all my needs.
I want my children (and all the children on soccer fields everywhere!) to know that they are loved too, not just by their mom or their dad, but by the Creator of the universe, who created them from before the world began, and that their tears are stored up too. I want them to know that every breath they draw is a work of the grace and beauty of God. That God is involved in all they do throughout their days. That they are powered, not by junk, but by the Spirit of the living God.
Okay, that's it. I need a kleenex again.
Then the LORD God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being. Genesis 2:7
1O LORD, You have searched me and known me. 2You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You understand my thought from afar. 3You scrutinize my path and my lying down, And are intimately acquainted with all my ways. 4Even before there is a word on my tongue, Behold, O LORD, You know it all. 5You have enclosed me behind and before, And laid Your hand upon me. 6Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is too high, I cannot attain to it. Psalm 139:1-6 (read the whole psalm here... I had such a time picking verses, it's a beautiful psalm and an instant cure for insecurity!)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
a feeling of "power" less ness...
I've been sobbing for an hour.
When I compose myself, I will compose a blog about it.
Right now, I'm looking through tears and the screens all blurry, and honestly, my nose is running badly and I should run for a kleenex before I resort to my sleeve.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13
When I compose myself, I will compose a blog about it.
Right now, I'm looking through tears and the screens all blurry, and honestly, my nose is running badly and I should run for a kleenex before I resort to my sleeve.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Dr. Living Stone, I presume?
September 10, 2009
** It's a two-post day! It's freaky quiet in this house with two kids at school all day. I have to go pick them up, but don't want to lose the post, so I will post it now, and add pictures when I get back. :)
Keelin has been working all summer, well, Candan too, for that matter, but mostly my crafty girl, on these perler bead projects. Have you ever seen them? You arrange little colored beads on these boards with tiny little pegs on them to hold all the beads together, and then you iron them. The plastic melts together and you take them off the board. She got a set for Christmas of 15,000 beads. Yes, 15,000.
She's made all kinds of animals: butterflies, frogs, fish.... My favorites are the scenes she's made from the big boards. One took her over a week to do. Keelin and I made a rockin' technicolor gecko together, but I can't find it to take its picture.
I was reading 1 Peter 2, and I don't know why, one of those God things where something just falls on you beautifully and like you've never read it before, though you must have...but verses 4-5 talk about us being living stones. Living stones... That whole start of the chapter is beautiful--we should long for the word that we should grow if we have tasted the kindness of the Lord. That we are precious in His sight...and as living stones we should allow ourselves to be built up as a spiritual house to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God.
The beads are like the same thing... they are precious in her sight, because with them she can build great things. The beads themselves become much more meaningful as a whole than on their own. They're all colored differently, and oh, how we sought some of those beads out to complete them just so... how precious were those everytime we found one that we needed! And really, the beads are much more beautiful when all put together. (they're pretty useless actually on their own, and oh, they hurt to step on.)
As His precious living stones, we should long to seek His word, long to be together, that we be built into something more beautiful than ourselves for His glory and His purpose, because we have tasted of the kindness of the Lord.
2like newborn babies, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation, 3if you have tasted the kindness of the Lord. 4And coming to Him as to a living stone which has been rejected by men, but is choice and precious in the sight of God,
5you also, as living stones, are being built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2:2-5
** It's a two-post day! It's freaky quiet in this house with two kids at school all day. I have to go pick them up, but don't want to lose the post, so I will post it now, and add pictures when I get back. :)
Keelin has been working all summer, well, Candan too, for that matter, but mostly my crafty girl, on these perler bead projects. Have you ever seen them? You arrange little colored beads on these boards with tiny little pegs on them to hold all the beads together, and then you iron them. The plastic melts together and you take them off the board. She got a set for Christmas of 15,000 beads. Yes, 15,000.
She's made all kinds of animals: butterflies, frogs, fish.... My favorites are the scenes she's made from the big boards. One took her over a week to do. Keelin and I made a rockin' technicolor gecko together, but I can't find it to take its picture.
I was reading 1 Peter 2, and I don't know why, one of those God things where something just falls on you beautifully and like you've never read it before, though you must have...but verses 4-5 talk about us being living stones. Living stones... That whole start of the chapter is beautiful--we should long for the word that we should grow if we have tasted the kindness of the Lord. That we are precious in His sight...and as living stones we should allow ourselves to be built up as a spiritual house to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God.
The beads are like the same thing... they are precious in her sight, because with them she can build great things. The beads themselves become much more meaningful as a whole than on their own. They're all colored differently, and oh, how we sought some of those beads out to complete them just so... how precious were those everytime we found one that we needed! And really, the beads are much more beautiful when all put together. (they're pretty useless actually on their own, and oh, they hurt to step on.)
As His precious living stones, we should long to seek His word, long to be together, that we be built into something more beautiful than ourselves for His glory and His purpose, because we have tasted of the kindness of the Lord.
2like newborn babies, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation, 3if you have tasted the kindness of the Lord. 4And coming to Him as to a living stone which has been rejected by men, but is choice and precious in the sight of God,
5you also, as living stones, are being built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2:2-5
I need to write a speech title
I won (?!) my speech contest yesterday... so my big prize is that I have to do it again, only against all the winners of all the clubs in Nanaimo. Great. Yay. UGH.... Here's basically what I said:
I have to write a speech. You see, there's this speech contest, and I entered it. I have NO idea why I entered it. It's a humorous speech contest, and well, I'm just not funny. In any sort of way. (pacing) What could've made me think that I could write a funny speech? I mean, three weeks ago I gave my speech about me clearing blackberries with a machete. Four people smile at my impression of Indiana Jen, and all of a sudden I think I am Adam Sandler or something. What was I thinking? SO I have to be funny and have vocal variety, oh, and not just funny, but funnier than Nicola, AND not pull at my shirt all at the same time or say "um"... oh, what WAS I thinking....
Okay... writing my speech... what's funny??
Oh, I know, I could tell everyone about the time when my best friend and I walked to her house from school, up hill, in the snow... (okay, not really) and we get to her house and she can't find her keys... but she has to go to the bathroom, and the more she searches, the more she dances, and I imitate her, and she laughs, and well.... she didn't need her keys so much anymore.
No, that's not really funny. That's more like "you had to be there..."
hmmm.....
Okay, there's the time when we were having a big family dinner... My son is about three at the time, and not visible to me from across the table because he's sitting in a seat without a booster... My grandma is sitting next to him, and looks at the big mound of untouched green broccoli on his plate, why he's not visible to me from across the table, and she leans over and says to him, "you know, broccoli makes you taller." So he promptly grabs a tree and scarfs it down, which I am very surprised at because he's never touched anything green that didn't come out of his nose before. He takes another and another... and then he stands up, and I still can't see him over the table,he was the same height in the chair and off, and he asks... "am I taller yet?"
No, only a mother could laugh at that one...
How about embarrassing moments... those tend to be funny... like when I was eighteen and I went to a pretty fancy seafood cafe, you know one of those really cute trendy restaurants that are crowded and small with yummy food? I got my dinner delivered to me, and it was a busy night, so my plate of halibut was sort of thrown together. I was a bit miffed because my lemon wedge was sitting halfway in the tartar sauce (eew) ....well, when I went to squirt the lemon wedge, it shoots UP UP and AWAY in the air in slow motion... and across over to another table, where it hits another man sitting across the aisle, leaving a lemon shaped splotch of tartar sauce on the back of his neck, and then bounces on the floor. He didn't notice, but he then gets up and puts on his jacket and leaves... and I am laughing so hard I am glad I don't have to search for my keys.
How can I get out of this... appendicitis, appendicitis, c'mon appendicitis....
Hmmm... So, there I was-- Indiana Jen....
I have to write a speech. You see, there's this speech contest, and I entered it. I have NO idea why I entered it. It's a humorous speech contest, and well, I'm just not funny. In any sort of way. (pacing) What could've made me think that I could write a funny speech? I mean, three weeks ago I gave my speech about me clearing blackberries with a machete. Four people smile at my impression of Indiana Jen, and all of a sudden I think I am Adam Sandler or something. What was I thinking? SO I have to be funny and have vocal variety, oh, and not just funny, but funnier than Nicola, AND not pull at my shirt all at the same time or say "um"... oh, what WAS I thinking....
Okay... writing my speech... what's funny??
Oh, I know, I could tell everyone about the time when my best friend and I walked to her house from school, up hill, in the snow... (okay, not really) and we get to her house and she can't find her keys... but she has to go to the bathroom, and the more she searches, the more she dances, and I imitate her, and she laughs, and well.... she didn't need her keys so much anymore.
No, that's not really funny. That's more like "you had to be there..."
hmmm.....
Okay, there's the time when we were having a big family dinner... My son is about three at the time, and not visible to me from across the table because he's sitting in a seat without a booster... My grandma is sitting next to him, and looks at the big mound of untouched green broccoli on his plate, why he's not visible to me from across the table, and she leans over and says to him, "you know, broccoli makes you taller." So he promptly grabs a tree and scarfs it down, which I am very surprised at because he's never touched anything green that didn't come out of his nose before. He takes another and another... and then he stands up, and I still can't see him over the table,he was the same height in the chair and off, and he asks... "am I taller yet?"
No, only a mother could laugh at that one...
How about embarrassing moments... those tend to be funny... like when I was eighteen and I went to a pretty fancy seafood cafe, you know one of those really cute trendy restaurants that are crowded and small with yummy food? I got my dinner delivered to me, and it was a busy night, so my plate of halibut was sort of thrown together. I was a bit miffed because my lemon wedge was sitting halfway in the tartar sauce (eew) ....well, when I went to squirt the lemon wedge, it shoots UP UP and AWAY in the air in slow motion... and across over to another table, where it hits another man sitting across the aisle, leaving a lemon shaped splotch of tartar sauce on the back of his neck, and then bounces on the floor. He didn't notice, but he then gets up and puts on his jacket and leaves... and I am laughing so hard I am glad I don't have to search for my keys.
How can I get out of this... appendicitis, appendicitis, c'mon appendicitis....
Hmmm... So, there I was-- Indiana Jen....
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Book review: Fearless
September 8, 2009 (finally! I've been bursting waiting to tell you about this book!)
Death rays from space.
I saw an article on the internet the other day that we are radiated every year with the equivalent of ten chest x-rays every year from rays from outer space, which have the potential to mutate cells and cause cancer. "Death Rays" they were called. I mean, isn't there enough stuff to worry about without having to worry about being zapped from space?
Max Lucado's Fearless is based on this premise-- that despite a culture of fear in our media, and despite fear in our own circumstances, or even the mere threat of circumstances to make us afraid, that we don't have to be. We have a God who is bigger than all of our fears. Even death rays from space.
I have read many others by Max Lucado, and this one does not disappoint in its relevance and real life application. In each chapter of Fearless, Lucado tells a different story of a scenario of fear that we can all relate to. For example, one chapter is about "the fear of what's next. Another is "fear of violence". Each fear is then examined, and we are then called to challenge it, to battle it, to turn to God for courage and hope. He reminds us throughout with such beautiful gems of wisdom how much God is in control and involved deeply in all our circumstances with a heavenly perspective. And it's all firmly grounded in scripture.
Max Lucado writes with such illustration. He makes everything so clear, so visual, so common sense. He simplifies what we make so complicated. However, what I appreciated most while reading is that he doesn't paint a picture that is full of rainbows and roses. He is still careful to acknowledge that life is still messy. He includes details of his own life that we understand that he's lived it too, and that he's encountered his own fears as well.
Fearless is a great read for those who want to be free to run counter-current to the fear-filled world that we live in today. We don't have to be overcome by fear. What a good reminder! Lucado assures us that "bravery is still an option" because we have a God who cares about the intricate details in our lives, and gives us the strength to be brave as we trust Him for our lives.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Happy Labour Day :)
Wow, school starts tomorrow! I wore socks for the first time in a long time-- we went bowling today :)
I just finished writing a book review to be published tomorrow, too, and I have a speech contest on Wednesday... but I haven't written my speech yet... It's a "humorous speech" but the thing is, is that I am not funny. SO not funny. I don't know why in the world I signed up for this. Three people smiled at my imitation of Indiana Jen, and suddenly I think I'm Adam Sandler. If you have any comments about what I should speak about, send 'em on!
Well, look forward to my review tomorrow, I can't publish it till 12:01am!
“Teach me to do Your will, For You are my God; Let Your good Spirit lead me on level ground.”- Psalm 143:10
Friday, September 4, 2009
Immunizations and national anthems...
September 4, 2009
I said, "Well, Honey, we need to get you an immunization." I thought she'd be tripped up by the hard word, maybe try to seem grown up enough to not ask what the word meant, or maybe think the word "immunization" means "puppy" or something.
Instead, she said, "Isn't that a SHOT?"
Darn it.
"Um, yes, Sweetheart (read: Miss Smartie Pants Nixon.)" There's no fooling that girl.
She hid under the bed for a few minutes, but, not blaming her one bit, I didn't push it. I just picked an outfit out for her, and talked to the cat who was sleeping on her bed. She complied eventually. She got dressed, brushed hair and teeth. Maybe it had something to do with the ice cream I promised her afterwards. Thankfully, she's wired the same as me. I'll do anything for an ice cream.
We walked into the health centre, signed her in, and she got weighed. 51 pounds! I can't believe that. (No wonder I put my back out picking her up last month!) In disbelief, I made her stand on the scale again. After a few minutes of watching the other babies and kids there to get their shots, too, the nurse called her name. She went walking calmly into the room, and sat down on my lap in the chair. The nurse was so wonderful with her, asked her a few questions, like what her favorite color was, and let her choose a sticker to go on top of the bandaid. Then Keelin pushed up her sleeve, I held her elbow, and the nurse asked Keelin to say her favorite color again really fast.
"PINK!!"
It was done. She had her shot. Not an "Ow." Not a tear. Nothing. She got her heart-stickered bandaid and that was it. So not a big deal. She got a big sticker afterwards, too. And Dairy Queen.
I remember clearly my version of the same shot when I was six. The doctor and two nurses held me down while I cried and screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs, legs kicking, arms flailing, determined not to let that needle puncture my arm. I lost the battle. The lollipop they handed me afterwards did nothing to dry my tears or soothe the pain and the fear of that moment.
Not long after that day, we sang the national anthem at a school assembly. "O'er the land of the free... and the home of the brave...."
For most of my childhood, I thought that the US was my land, but not my home. I wasn't brave, because I cried during my shots.
That's who I thought I was, after all, that's how I acted. Was it true? Why not? That's what I chose as the basis of measurement. Not that I could ride Space Mountain. If that were the measurement, I'd be brave!
I know now what the measuring stick is--it's who God says I am, and what I am because of Him. I am God's workmanship (Ephesians 2:10) and I know I don't have to fear a thing, because He is with me wherever I go.
These days, I sing "O' Canada" quite a bit, in our house of Blue Jay, BC Lion, and Canuck games. "O' Canada, my home and native land....."
Okay, yes, Canada's my home, I live here, but I was born in the States, not my native land...
So, my struggle continues.
*sigh*
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9
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